Between You & Me (10 page)

When my mind returns to the steps, you're kindly holding out your gloves to me—but at that moment Mia comes down the path with Mrs. Keen and I forget about the cold. Everyone is flooding forward to the waiting bus. I hang back, reaching halfheartedly for your sleeve, aware of our proximity to Mia in the failing light. I'm hoping to sit up front with her, find out more about her. Chatting to Cara, you push ahead with her onto the bus and drop into a seat halfway back, reaching out to save space for me. You see me lingering and peer quizzically over the seat backs. With Mia in mid-conversation, I
dismiss my tinge of disappointment—maybe we'll talk later—and make my way back to you. Given the rocky start to our friendship this year, it's probably a good thing.

Quiet ride. I've been trying to be more open with you recently, so I should tell you my news about tomorrow. Tucking up my knees, I lean against you. You shift your weight, to accommodate me maybe—still, you feel strangely tense. I can't see your face because you're looking out the window but it's getting dark out so I catch your vague reflection in the glass. I'm about to speak when Cara's face appears over the seat in front.

CARA

Hey, kids. You're quiet!

Neither of us replies.

Pipe down. Don't make me come back there.

She wedges her face between the seats.

You're a wacky pair!

I smile and you do too.

How about this theater malarkey? Not bad. Phy, I've got a new video camera. Maybe we could play around with it over the weekend?

I smile and nod. Sounds like something that could get Mia's attention. We're nearly there and up at the front of the bus she's turned and is kneeling on her seat. She calls above the rising hubbub.

MIA

Collect a ticket from me as you go in, everyone. And pay attention tonight. You're going to have a paper to write.

People groan. She smiles.

We're crowding through the doors of the theater, past the review posters with stills of the cast and printed quotes:
Thrilling. A tour de force. Mesmerizing from start to finish.
Excitement pulses in my chest. This is what I want, to have
my picture with a quote beneath it in a theater like this. We crowd past the bar to the mezzanine stairs, carpeted in plush crimson and studded with tiny bulbs. At the top, Mia stands beside the velvet curtains framing the doors to the auditorium. She hands out tickets as we pass her. I take mine and smile. She doesn't see me.

Mia takes her seat in front of me across the aisle as the giant chandelier dims. I look at her in the darkness, the curtain rising. She's looking at me! No, what I thought was the light in her eye is her earring glinting in the aisle lights. My eyes adjust to the dark and I can see the same concentrated expression she has in class when she watches us. The stage lights come up, finally taking my attention. I imagine myself up there with the lights, the audience, the adrenaline. It could be me, I know it could, and every moment I sit here, I wish more and more that it was.

We crowd into the bar area at intermission and watch people swan away from the bar with their wineglasses, making comments that sound like the posters. We have just found an alcove when I see Elle with her arms around someone. I crane my neck with curiosity and swallow my reaction. She's kissing Tony! Tucked over by the bar stools, in a corner lit by a blue bar light that makes her yellow top look green, they're making out. So, the skirt did the trick! I elbow you in the side and point them out. You make a “to each their own” face. Turning away, I can't help thinking about Tony's lanky embrace—I guess the boat has sailed there, then. I hadn't heard anything about him liking Elle all of a sudden and that gets to me. It's not that the attention had been nice but it seems fickle. I'm more certain than ever that Tony is not what I want—maybe I'm just a little envious of how much simpler it would be. I flick through the program and we talk about the play instead. You're sweetly sincere, so I manage to forget about the goings-on in the corner and look forward to the second half. A brassy bell rings to send us back to our seats, and I scan the crowd for Mia as we herd back into the auditorium. She is talking to Kate, in the attentive way I've seen before. I look instead at the chandelier and push away my feeling of jealousy, a sensation I've come to hate more than any other. I wish I never had to feel it again.

We traipse out of the auditorium into the glare of the foyer. Seeing a play stops time—makes the real world seem so harsh. I blink in the light and, realizing that I managed not to think about anything else for the past hour, I cherish the moment. The sight of Mia disappearing through the doors into the night ahead brings back my excitement for tomorrow and the familiar brow-furrowing pang that seems always with me nowadays. We follow her out and, under the light of the evening street lamps, I remember the faint sense of importance that I started the evening with. She hasn't spoken to me yet. The evening wasn't what I thought it might be but there's always tomorrow. Tonight I'm happy to slide in beside you in the darkness of the bus.

You lean against the window, and I lean against you, and we watch the lights go by in silence.

Meet me tomorrow
is now today. It feels like forever since yesterday and yet today came so fast. By the time I got home last night, my anticipation had tripled and I couldn't sleep. In my head I practiced appropriate responses to the possible conversations we could be going to have. I've spent an hour getting ready for school and this afternoon still feels like an eternity away. I'll go crazy! I've had a few spoonfuls of cornflakes and now I'm staring at the bowl, wondering why I would ever want to eat. Mom comes in and asks me if I liked the play. I'm too preoccupied to be chatty.
Not hungry?
she says.
Not like you, hon. Everything okay?
She hugs me as I leave for school and for a second I want to stay in that hug forever. Then, drawn by the thought of Mia, I am out the door.

Nearly there! Fifteen minutes to go; today, fifteen minutes feels like a lifetime. Final class of the day and we've been let out of history early. Given my concentration level, I couldn't even tell you it was history. I slip into the courtyard ahead of everyone, wondering where I should wait. I mentioned at lunch today that I'm meeting Mia, so you know not to stick around. The library! It's quiet—there's never anyone
there—and, thinking that peace and quiet might help, I head quickly for the doors.