Cinderella Sidelined (10 page)

He shakes his head in mock outrage. "Pretty girls get all the perks."
 

My cheeks color almost immediately; I don't need a mirror to know what's happening. My mom always says it's the curse of us poor fair-skinned people, and lord knows, it's been true my whole life. Let's face it: I earned that Tomato Thompson nickname in third grade.

Good to see it's still alive and well.

"Heh, heh, heh," I chuckle awkwardly, and I want to slap myself.

What is wrong with me?

First guy in months to call me pretty -- I think Blaine's gotten a little complacent since we've been together for so long or something -- and I turn to mush?
 

Embarrassing.
 

Get it together, Emma.

Russ ducks his head and tries to hide a smile. "Come on," he says, waving me over to him. "Over here." He looks both ways across the busy street, then holds out his arm to guide me until we're safely on the other sidewalk.

"What, did you think that was going to protect me from getting smushed by a car?" I ask him.

He looks at me with a frown. "Huh?"
 

"Oh," I say, flustered he doesn't get my joke. I pray my cheeks don't flare up again. "Uh, the way you held out your arm. Like it was going to keep me from getting hit or something."
 

Russ glances down at his arm like he's surprised to find it attached to his body. "Oh." He shrugs. "Sorry. Didn't even know I was doing it."
 

I refuse to make eye contact with him. "Nevermind," I mutter.
 

He laughs and walks two steps ahead of me down the street. We pass the place Blaine and I like to come to the most, and I have to force my body not to walk inside because it's what feels the most natural to me.

Heck, being down here with someone who isn't Blaine is weird enough.
 

"Where are we going?" I ask when we walk two more blocks and it no longer feels like we're in Old Town.
 

"You'll see. Not much farther."
 

I try not to sigh and keep following him, which, if you really think about it, is probably ridiculous. I mean, I don't even know this guy. I don't do this much walking for Blaine on a good day! And even though I'd been kidding about the whole kidnapping thing, suddenly I'm starting to wonder...

"Told ya. Here we are."
 

Russ stops in front of what looks like an overgrown jungle with a wooden sign poking out between the shrubs.

"Here? What is this place?"

He raises his eyebrows. "You haven't been to Rollo's before?"

"Uh, that'd be a no."
 

"Oh, you're missing out. Good thing we're about to change that."
 

He pushes his way through a creaky white metal gate and into a lovely -- and surprising -- patio. My jaw drops as I take in the scene around me. Green hedges surround the patio which gives way to a charming dark brown wooden structure that I'm guessing is the actual restaurant itself. Big white lights are strung up and hanging from the trees and pergola near the building. Bursts of colorful plants are mixed with all the green, and a single candle flickers on each table.

Russ leads me over to one in the corner next to a giant tree, right under some of the hanging lights. A waitress appears almost immediately and hands us two menus and two glasses of water before I even have a chance to sit down.
 

"Why did you take me here?" I ask, trying to stop myself from soaking in the romantic vibes the patio is giving off. This doesn't seem like a place I should be with someone who isn't Blaine, and it's a shame, because I want to love it so much.

He shrugs. "I used to wash dishes in the back and Rollo still gives me a discount."
 

And for whatever reason, that's what does the trick. I look at the very matter-of-fact expression on Russ' face when he explains himself and compare that to my fears about how lovey dovey this place is and burst out laughing. He looks up at me in surprise.

"What's so funny?"

I shake my head in between bursts of laughter. "Nothing," I manage to choke out, picking up the napkin to dab away the tears that have started to form in my eyes. "Nothing."
 

He sets down the menu and smiles at me. "Doesn't look like nothing."
 

"Trust me, it's better this way." I reach for my water glass and down half of it in two giant gulps. When I'm done, I feel like I've regained my composure.
 

He shakes his head and smiles.
 

The waitress appears at this exact -- and very fortunate -- moment to take our order. Russ waits for me to go first, so I ask for a grilled cheese sandwich before he orders a small pizza.
 

"So, am I crazy or was it just my name on the cast list before with no part next to it?" I ask Russ once the waitress is gone. "I mean, it's possible I'm just that out of it that I didn't notice."
 

Russ shakes his head. "Nope, it's not you. Mary does all of the plays this way. You'll find out your role once we get into the first day of rehearsals."

"That seems weird."
 

"Yeah, it's not how most directors do things, but that's Mary."
 

"You've known her awhile?"

He nods and takes a drink of water. "This'll be my seventh play."
 

"One in the fall and one in the spring every year of high school?"
 

Russ looks surprised. "I didn't think you'd get that."
 

"Not as dumb as I look."
 

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, and I smile.
 

"I know."
 

"Okay," he says, placing both hands on the edge of the tabletop and lightly drumming his fingers against the wood. "So what's up with you? Why do you look like you spent half the day crying your eyes out?"

My smile vanishes and I suck in some air.
 

"Wh-what are you talking about?" I ask, trying to come off as if I'm still composed, even if I've done a complete one-eighty in, oh, about half-a-second flat.

"Emma, please. I saw your face in the hall when you were getting ready to leave. You didn't look happy. What was that about?"

"I'm fine."
 

"Maybe now," he concedes. "But I'm not so sure about that. And you definitely weren't before."
 

"It's not important."
 

"I think you're wrong."
 

"Why?"

"Anything that makes you upset enough to get tears out of you isn't something you should brush off like it doesn't matter."
 

I let out a sigh and look up at the sky as it slowly starts to darken while day turns to night. "Hard not to cry when your life goes up in flames right in front of you."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Your whole life? Why do I doubt that?"

"Don't. It's the truth."
 

"So what happened?"

"It's not -- "

"Emma." He stares hard at me, like he knows I'm going to trivialize my conversation with Coach Morris again. And I am. "Out with it."
 

I press my lips together. "Let's just say my future isn't going to be what I thought it would."
 

Russ lets out a low chuckle. "That's it? Join the club. Do you know how rare it is to end up where you think you will? Can't plan life, Emma."
 

"It's not supposed to be like that. When you work your butt off for something for days, months, years, you're supposed to get the reward in the end. You're not supposed to lose it all."
 

He stares at me thoughtfully. "Maybe you are if it means you'll get something better in its place."
 

"Nah. There's nothing better than this."
 

"What?"
 

"Volleyball," I say, finally allowing myself to speak the horrible, unimaginable, unthinkable word out loud.

"Yeah, I know, you hurt your wrist," Russ says, looking confused. "It'll heal."
 

"Not fast enough for UMT."

"Michigan Tech?" he says, reaching for his water. "What's that about?"

Another sigh escapes. "You know how you when you're little and somehow you get this big idea of what your life will be like one day? Like how fun and cool college is gonna be and stuff? And then for whatever reason you settle on your dream school and that's it for you forever?"

He frowns. "No," he says. "Can't say I know too much about that."

I blink in surprise. "Oh. Um, well...that was me with Michigan Tech," I say, trying to continue without feeling too deflated he can't relate. "From the minute I heard about that school, I wanted to go there. Needed to go there. But then volleyball happened. I started playing and I was good. No other way to say it. Every coach I've ever had knew I'd get a scholarship one day, and I did. But none of them are good enough. I need an offer from Michigan Tech."
 

"And you haven't gotten one yet."
 

"No, nope, I got one," I say, and he looks at me like he's about to congratulate me, but I shake my head. "I got it a couple days ago before a game. The day I cracked up my wrist, actually." I smile wryly. "Went into that game like nothing could touch me. And look what happened." I flick the hard plaster that makes things as simple as unfolding a napkin a pain in the butt.
 

"Yeah, that sucks. How long is it on for?"

"Comes off in six weeks. Almost five now. Then the doctor will tell me when he thinks I can play again."
 

"That's not too bad."
 

"It is when your whole life is volleyball," I argue. "And it is when it costs you the same scholarship you'd worked like crazy to get."
 

Russ runs his hand over his mouth. "Are you kidding? They took it away?"

"Found out this afternoon." I take a deep breath, determined not to burst into tears in the middle of this beautiful, lovely patio. "Coach Morris was all, 'yeah, but you still have other scholarship offers' and all I can think about is how much I don't care about them. And then that makes me feel like a crappy person because I'm the only person on the whole team to even get a scholarship. I don't know."
 

"Yeah, that's a tough one."

"And so now I just feel like I have nothing," I babble on. I'm pretty sure Russ had no idea what he was getting himself into when he got me started down this path. "No volleyball. No teammates. No scholarship. It's all I've known. I'm going to be stuck in this damn small town forever."
 

I'm expecting Russ to shower me with sympathy, but all he offers is some kind of half-shrug. "Change happens, Emma. That's all this is. And Phoenix isn't exactly a small town, you know."
 

"Okay, but I don't have to like it."
 

He nods. "True, I guess. But why not do something about it?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like join the play."
 

"I already made the cast list."
 

"Exactly. But are you going to take your role?"

My forehead creases. "Well, yeah."

He looks at me in surprise. "Oh."
 

"I don't know why I'm telling you this."
 

"It's my face," Russ says. "Everyone says I have a very friendly face."
 

I stare at him for a few seconds and he sticks his tongue out and makes his eyes bulge, and I can't help it. I start to giggle. "You have something," I tell him, relieved the dangerously awkward spell of the last conversation seems to have broken.

He opens his mouth to respond but the waitress appears, carrying a plate of grilled cheese in one hand and a pan of pizza in the other. She sets them down in front of us and we smile at each other.

"Dig in," he says, pointing to my sandwich. "If this conversation didn't make you feel better, that grilled cheese sure will."
 

And as I lift my food shakily with one hand, his words slam in to me and almost make me not hungry at all.

Russ, I realize, could tell how upset I was this afternoon.

And Blaine hadn't said a word.

CHAPTER TEN

I'm fidgety all throughout the rest of the week. It's Friday, finally, so I guess some of that's to be expected, but it's also the first day of rehearsals. Russ had said when he dropped me off at home the other day that today would be casual and just Mary giving us our parts in the play, but I still catch myself absently jiggling my leg and chewing at the skin along my left thumbnail all day.

When the final bell rings, I'm all set to sweep my books into my bag and bolt from the classroom.
 

It's hard to believe I'm so nervous about the play, but I guess there's something about knowing that maybe I can still be good at something when it suddenly feels like I can't do anything right.
 

I seem to keep forgetting that I sang "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" at my audition. Mary's probably humoring me and my role will be to sweep the stage between scenes to keep everyone safe or something silly and useless like that.

It's not like it'd be much of a surprise with the way things are going lately.

I let out some air and walk up to the auditorium, ready to get this day over with, and get in some quality time with my bed.
 

"Yo." Russ is by my side within seconds of me hauling open the door and walking inside. It's like he's been standing next to the door waiting for me. "What took you so long?"
 

I briefly close my eyes, take a deep breath and sigh. "It's nothing."
 

"You sure about that? Looks like you've been sucking on a lemon."
 

"Yeah, I'm -- what?" I turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Sucking on a lemon?"
 

"Don't look at me like that, Em. It's a normal phrase."