“I hope you’re going to have some respect for the curse tonight,” Portia said as we walked into the cafeteria for lunch. “This is our last run before opening night. We can’t have any slip-ups.”
“Whatever.” I headed for the football players’ table, not even bothering to get food. Some of the guys on the far end were telling a story that involved milk cartons for props, but Tommy let his attention lapse long enough to pat me on the leg and smile when I sat down next to him. I’d stopped seeing him outside of school, trying to gradually distance myself until it would feel natural to break up. I didn’t want to hurt him more than I had to.
I watched Portia get her lunch and pause at a table to talk to one of the guys from the lighting crew. For the last few weeks Peter had been completely phoning it in at rehearsals. He didn’t act openly miserable, but the depression was just under the surface and everyone noticed it. Portia started taking over for him on stuff like costumes and the set construction. She’d become the unofficial director at this point and we all knew it, even Peter, because he’d started asking her opinion on certain scenes in our last few rehearsals.
When she finally sat down at the table, she started right in on famous female directors—which ones she liked and how underrepresented women were in the profession.
“It’s not like a complete boy’s club,” she said between bites of bread stick. “There’re plenty of female role models. Penny Marshall is the box office queen, but I think Sofia Coppola really sets the style for the next generation of filmmakers.”
Even though I wanted to roll my eyes about her sudden career obsession, it was actually a good fit for her. Portia’d successfully directed the rumor mill for years. Maybe that’s why we’d been such good friends: she’d been my director and I’d been her actor.
“You gonna make movies, Portia?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah. The U doesn’t have a great film program, but it’s not a bad place to start.” Portia talked to the table near Tommy’s hands. She never looked directly at him.
“You should put Hattie in your movies. She can be your star.” He flung an arm around my waist and drew me closer on the bench.
Portia smirked at me. “She’s welcome to audition.”
“Hey, let’s get together tonight, since you’re going to be busy this weekend with the play.” Tommy’s fingers clung to my ribs, like he was scared to lose his grip on me. He’d definitely noticed my avoidance of him outside school and was in denial.
“I’m busy tonight with the play, too.”
“It’s the dress rehearsal,” Portia added.
“That’s not going to take all night, is it? I’ll pick you up afterwards. Some of the guys are getting together at Derek’s. We’re going to figure out plans for the cabin this summer.”
He’d been bringing this up a lot lately—some annual trip to a cabin up north where kegs, bonfires, drunken streaking, and loose girlfriends were the norm.
“I told you I don’t know if I can get off work for that.”
I tried to put some space between us, automatically glancing toward the corner table where Peter sat with Mr. Jacobs. He had a book open where his lunch should have been and his head in his hand, but he wasn’t reading the book. He was staring at me. As soon as our eyes met, he dropped his gaze and turned a page.
Oh, God, I still loved him. Despite everything, despite his pregnant wife, despite the fact that in a few weeks I might leave and never see him again, I still loved him with everything I was. Even the pain was all mixed up with love inside me.
For the first time, I didn’t want to use Tommy to make Peter jealous. And I didn’t think I could use Tommy to make me feel better, either, even though he had grown on me over the last months. He was sweet and simple, trying to plan these high school trips for us, always talking about going to the U and how much I would like it there. In his eyes, the future was all mapped out. I always knew what he was thinking and what he would say next, and he loved everything about me. He reminded me of a dog again, one that kept following me around and wagging its tail no matter what I did. But you can’t have a relationship with a dog.
“Well, you’re not working after the rehearsal tonight, right?” Tommy asked, still hopeful. “Come to Derek’s and you’ll see how awesome the cabin is going to be.”
“I don’t know how late it’s going to go.”
He looked so disappointed that I couldn’t help adding, “You can come see me tomorrow on opening night.”
He groaned. “Boring.”
“You’ll love it. There’s witches and sword fights and severed heads. Blood everywhere.” I was being totally honest. Tommy seriously loved horror movies.
“Are you the innocent, screaming girl?” He laughed, completely forgetting he’d run lines with me only a few weeks ago.
“No.” I patted his hand and moved it off my waist. “I make the blood run.”
After school I put on my costume, which was just a simple white sheath. I thought it looked too Greek, but Christy Sorenson was in charge of costumes and she didn’t want to hear it. They’d made them in Family and Consumer Science and had to sew four sets each, one for each performance and an extra for the dress rehearsal, because we were basically going to ruin them each night. After Macbeth murdered the king, he and I put our crowns on, but then before every scene we had to drizzle more and more red corn syrup on our shoulders, like the witches were making the crowns bleed. That was Peter’s idea. He told us, back when we were deciding set design and interpretation, that you had to make Shakespeare visual. Most people couldn’t follow iambic pentameter very well, but everyone knew what a knife meant when you pulled it out. So the whole play was heavy on stage direction and gestures. There was a lot of sword waving, which the guys loved. Obviously.