A Step Toward Falling (27 page)

In editing the play, I've boiled the story down to eight scenes. Gone are all the fun, contemporary high school parts. That would be way too confusing for this crowd. Instead, it's two couples wearing old-fashioned clothes who meet in every other scene and spend the in-between scenes discussing their misconceptions about each other.

As I've edited it, some of the scenes make almost no sense. We don't know why he's asked her to marry him and we don't have the Wickham backstory to explain why she turns him down so angrily. With this crowd, my guess is it won't matter. I know this audience and their attention span. They don't need plot details that they won't be able to follow anyway. They'll enjoy the drama of the fight without understanding the reasons behind it.

Then I'm surprised: driving to our last Boundaries and Relationships class before we put on the show next week, Lucas tells me he's asked Mary if he can talk to the group about the story ahead of time. “Just to prep them a little about the story. Fill in some of the holes.”

“What holes?” I snap. I've gotten too sensitive lately. Today at rehearsal he suggested making a change in the blocking and I couldn't help feeling annoyed. “Why don't we just have one director here, okay, Lucas?”

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “You're in charge.”

Afterward I apologized. I told him I was feeling nervous and I didn't want to confuse Belinda and Anthony
with last-minute changes. “They're finally getting better, but we're not out of the woods yet. There's still the possibility this will be a disaster of fairly epic proportions.”

“Exactly,” he said. Now he tells me, “That's why I asked Mary if we could talk to group about what to expect.”

It seems like a risky idea to me. A boring plot summary may turn them off completely. When I tell him this, he says, “Yeah, I may do it a little differently if that's okay.”

I look over at him and wonder what he has in mind.

“It won't be anything long. Just five minutes, I promise.”

“Okay, fine,” I say. “Go ahead.”

Thirty seconds into Lucas's summary in front of the group, it feels like a big mistake. He starts by saying he wants to talk about the “show” we're putting on next week, which confuses everyone. They think it's going to be a TV show starring actors they've heard of. Sheila is hoping Justin Bieber will be in it.

“No, Sheila, sorry,” Lucas says. “We couldn't get the J-Man for this.”

“But did you even
ask
?” she says.

“It's not that kind of show, guys,” Lucas says, holding up one hand to stop the interruptions. “It's a
play
, okay? We're the actors—Emily and I—along with two of our friends from school. They're not famous either, so don't get your hopes up.”

He flashes me a smile and I smile back. It's nice that he's called them friends and hasn't mentioned their disabilities. There's also this: the room is silent now, listening to Lucas.

“It's an old-fashioned story by this woman named Jane Austen who wrote some books a long time ago about all the rules around people trying to start relationships. Back then the rules were different. They were mostly about how rich your parents were, but there's one thing that's still the same. Everyone judges each other based on the way they look. They meet each other at a party and they all think certain things, like he's really stuck up, or she's kind of silly. They don't take time to ask a few questions and get to know each other.”

It's hard to tell how many people understand what he's saying.

“Has anyone here ever done that? Where you thought a person was one way and then you got to know them and they were completely different?”

I'm surprised. Three people raise their hands. “Oh, I have! I have!” Annabel says. “I hated Subway chicken salad and then I tried it and it wasn't so bad except for the chicken tasted funny and it had apples in it.”

“That's sort of what this story is about that, Annabel. Only it's not about chicken salad, it's about people taking a little time and getting to know each other before they make judgments. Can anyone think of any other examples?”

Sheila raises her hand. I can tell Lucas is hesitating. With Sheila, there's a pretty good chance she'll respond to a question like this by complaining about her bus driver today or announcing that she's bought new shoes. Unfortunately, hers is the only hand still raised. “Yes, Sheila?” he says.

“I didn't like you when you first came to class.”

He laughs at the surprise of this. “Perfect example! Why not?”

“I thought you were too big to be a normal person and you might beat me up.”

He smiles. “And now?”

“I think you're nice and you probably won't beat anyone up.”

He walks over to Sheila and shakes her hand, and does a funny, courtly bow. “That was perfectly on topic.”

He's right, I think. It was. Of course, the nice moment doesn't last too long. When he asks if there are any other questions, there are.

“Will refreshments be served?”

“Can we talk while the play is going on?”

“Will people have to pay attention or can they leave if they don't like it?”

I'm surprised at how well Lucas fields these without any help from Mary. “No, Ken, it's a play, which means people will be right here, acting it out. We've worked hard on it and practiced a lot, so do you think it would be nice to walk out if you're bored?”

Ken looks stumped for a minute, then shakes his head. “No!” he says.

“That's right. That wouldn't be a nice thing to do.”

Afterward in the car, I gush a little. “That was so well done, Lucas. Seriously. Whatever happens next week, I think we'll be okay. They'll be polite and patient. They'll understand the main point we're trying to make. And afterward we'll dance and eat snacks and it won't matter if the show is terrible or not. I'm so glad you did that.”

He looks over at me. “Listen to you.”

“What?”

“The dumb ox had a decent idea.”

I'm flabbergasted he'd say this. “I
don't
think of you as a dumb ox, Lucas. My God . . .”

“Right, okay.”

I look at him. “I
don't.
”

“Okay.” He's smiling, which I hope means he believes me, but I'm not sure. These car rides have become our only time to be together without other people hovering on the periphery, and even here, we're shy with each other, as if there are issues we're afraid to talk about. Is he
really
worried that I think he's dumb? I like him so much I don't understand. I don't know what I could say that would reassure him, except something that would make me sound dumb myself:
I really like you. I really really do.

R
IGHT IN THE MIDDLE
of getting my costume made, we get a surprise. The doctor calls and says Nan is well enough to come home from the hospital.

In the car ride over, Mom says she's nervous that Nan'll be mad about her cleaning the house and throwing things away. I tell her I'm nervous Nan'll still be mad about the play.

We're both surprised, though. It turns out the only thing Nan criticizes after she's been home for an hour is
the bonnet Mom is making for my costume. “You don't have any decorative elements. There's no fringe and there's nothing to that bow.”

“You're probably right, Nan.” Mom smiles. It's nice to hear Nan sound like her old self especially since she looks so different now. She's very thin and hunched over and it looks like her skin got too big. Even her hands look different. In the car ride home she told us she wished she'd died when she had the heart attack. Now she has to change everything she eats. No salt anymore. Nothing from cans. “I just don't know if I see any point,” she said. It sounded like how I felt after the football game. I was never hungry and I thought there was no point in eating because nothing tasted good.

Now Mom says, “Would you mind helping me with it, Nan? You've always been a better seamstress than I am.”

Later, while they're both working, I tell them Emily has no bonnet at all, and Mom says, “Well, Nan'll have to make that one, I don't have time. I've got the rest of your skirt to finish.”

Mom stays up almost all night to finish my dress and the two bonnets in time for the dress rehearsal. The next morning she drives me to school with Nan in the car. Each of us carries a different thing into my classroom. I carry the dress. Mom carries one bonnet, Nan carries the other. Nan walks so slowly that it's hard to stay with her. Finally we tell her to sit on a bench and we'll take the bonnet the rest of the way. I can tell she doesn't want to do that, though. She wants people to see her bonnets and say they look great.

That's when Emily walks up and says, “Oh my gosh, it's your costume!”

I haven't told her about the bonnet we made for her because that's my big surprise. Now I say, “This one's for you,” and I point to the one Nan is holding.

I want her to be extra happy, so I'm giving her the one with more frills.

“Oh, that's so nice!” she says and even though Nan doesn't like hugs that much, she gives her a big one. “It's beautiful! I love it!” She puts it on for a second which makes her look silly because the rest of her clothes are a T-shirt and jeans. “Thank you both so much for doing this and for letting Belinda be in the play. She's amazing. Wait until you see her.”

I'm happy she says this looking at Nan and Mom. It makes me think maybe everything will be all right. Nan will see that doing the play was a good idea and she'll forgive Mom for saying yes I could do it. I don't know for sure that this will happen but it seems like it might.

After school, at our last rehearsal, Anthony and I both wear our costumes which are so much better than Emily and Lucas's costumes, it's like we're acting in different plays, one with good costumes, one with bad costumes.

“You guys look so good,” Emily says. She's wearing a long skirt that she tied around her waist like an apron. She looks like a pioneer, not like a lady. The bonnet helps a little but not that much.

“You should have a real dress,” I say to Emily. And then I tell Lucas, “And you shouldn't wear that outfit at all.” He has on tan pants and a blue suit jacket. He looks like a big
teenager going to church, not like a man in the 1700s.

Then I remember something else I have to do and I get nervous again. This whole week, I've had a hard time sleeping. Last night I couldn't sleep at all so finally I got up and typed a letter:

Dear Mr. Firth,

I hope that you are well and that your wife and children are well, too. I wanted to write and tell you that I have some news. I'm going to play Elizabeth Bennett in a short play version of Pride and Prejudice. I am very excited but I'm also very nervous. I have not acted in eight years. I used to be a very good actress. Some things have happened to me that I still don't want to tell you about. I don't know if bad things happening to a person can change them forever. I'm very nervous and I used to never get nervous at all. Sometimes other kids would get terrible stage fright and I'd have to go on for them or do their job. Now I'm worried that might happen to me. Do you ever feel this way? Like you might throw up or maybe have a heart attack? I asked my mom and she said twenty-one-year-old people usually don't get heart attacks, so I think maybe I have stage fright.

I am worried that I may ruin the whole show because of a panic attack. My mom has panic attacks and they are terrible to watch. If you have time, you can either write me a letter or just think about me. That might help.

Your friend,

Belinda

Writing to Mr. Firth helped a little but I still couldn't sleep after I go back to bed. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept thinking about Ron and Mitchell Breski.

I've decided maybe Nan is wrong. There are some things you try to forget and you can't. Since that one time in the cafeteria, I keep thinking about everything terrible that happened at the football game, and how I have never talked to Emily and Lucas about it. I don't know if they remember it the way I do, but I don't think I can do the play until I ask them a few questions. I'd like to ask them: What happened? Why didn't you help me? He was hurting me and I was crying and you both ran away. That is not okay.

I hope if I talk about it, I will stop thinking about it so much. I don't know if it will work, but I'm going to try.

This morning I told Mom what I'm going to do. She said I was brave and she thought my instincts were probably better than hers. This made me feel good except I don't know what instincts are.

When I asked her she said, “Your common-sense feelings about people.”

“Yes,” I said. “Except for Ron. I was wrong about him. He didn't deserve to get any presents from me.”

“That's true,” Mom said.

And even though it's sad to think about this, I wasn't sad for too long because I've got a new idea. Something I can do with my box of presents. It's a good idea but I'm not going to say anything about it because I want it to be a surprise.

For now, we still haven't started rehearsal and I know I have to say something, but I also know I don't want to say it in front of Anthony. While Emily and Lucas are talking, I ask if Anthony would mind leaving the room for a few minutes.

“Where should I go?” he says.

“I don't know,” I whisper. “I need to talk to Emily and Lucas about something private that doesn't involve you, so it doesn't matter where you go. You just shouldn't be here.”

“I don't understand. Why do you have something private that doesn't involve me?”

“It just
is
,” I say. “Trust me.”