What You Always Wanted (36 page)

A tingle worms its way through my body. A revelation. A truth I've known but needed a boost to believe.

I can act. And I love it. The characters. The lines. The stories to tell. That's what I want to do. That's what I'm good at.

I look at Sarah and the boys.

That's what
we're
good at.

We store our props in the dressing room and find some empty seats to watch the rest of the show, but I hardly know
what's happening. My mind is still whirling, reviewing our performance and wishing we had the opportunity to do it again. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun onstage.

The competition ends, and Mrs. Morales steps into the spotlight. “Let's hear it one more time for the students of Fernwood High!” The audience cheers wildly. “While our judges come to their decision, we've got a special treat for your entertainment. Please welcome Jesse Morales, with musical accompaniment by Shauna Riggs, Donna Lufkin, Jeffrey Pratt, Colter Light, and Michael Sparks from the Fernwood High Orchestra!”

Wait, WHAT?

With the clapping and dimness of the theatre, my head is so clouded. I have to rub my eyes to make sure everything's working right.

I turn to Sarah. “Did she say Jesse? As in—”

She nods and nudges me to look at the stage as a few colored lights paint a soft glow on the sparse set. A set that I recognize immediately. A three-tiered wooden platform sits upstage to the right, with a chair and a small table strewn with newspaper to the left. An open sheet of newspaper is spread on the middle of the floor. It's from
Summer Stock
. My favorite scene.

Jesse's carefree whistle fills the theatre as he walks slowly across the stage, hands in his pockets, and I'm likely one of only two people in this building who know the words that melody represents. It's the song “You Wonderful You.” He continues whistling, starting on the tapping, and it's only then that I realize he's wearing the outfit too: tight yellow polo shirt and blue pants with the cuffs rolled up, exposing his ankles.

I think I'm having a heart attack.

The kids from the orchestra take over for his whistling with their horns and a few strings, and he's flying through the routine, exactly how Gene does it, incorporating the noises of a squeaky floorboard—a sound effect by someone offstage—and the shuffle of newspaper along with the taps. He does the whole number, even picking up the newspaper at the end, reading it and walking offstage, whistling again. It's perfect. He's perfect.

Why is he trying to kill me?

The audience goes mad, standing on their feet and clapping so much that Jesse has to come out and take a bow. I'm sad my mom planned to leave to feed Christopher just after my performance, because she missed one epically epic surprise with my name on it.

Eyes wide and unfocused, I'm still sitting numb in my chair when Mrs. Morales announces my name along with Brian's, Ryan's, and Sarah's as the first-prize winners. There's an acceptance, Brian makes a speech I don't hear, and the next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of the middle of the theatre as people around me cluster in groups to chat and filter outside.

And there's Jesse, still in his yellow shirt, though the tap shoes are gone. A sheepish grin dances on his face.

“Before you say anything,” he begins, “this isn't some big announcement that I'm jumping back on the stage. I'm not. I just wanted you to know that I'm not ashamed of this part of me.”

I swallow, taking a beat to compose myself. “So . . . you don't care if the guys make fun of you for this?”

He shakes his head. “First of all, did you notice the standing ovation? That's not something I'm going to forget after a few
jabs.” He laughs it off, but I know he loves the attention. “But also, you sort of opened my eyes to something.”

“
I
did?” My hand finds my chest and rests there, heartbeat running wild.

“My real friends aren't going to care what I do.”

My eyes spill over, and happy laughter sputters out of my mouth.

“Whoa,” Jesse says, taking a step toward me. “Why are you crying?”

The happy laughter twists into near sobs, which I fight with all my strength to control. “I'm so sorry. It was wrong of me to try to change you like that. You were right, about everything.”

He reaches for my hands, and I anchor to his like a lifeline.

“I thought I knew what I wanted,” I continue, “and instead of seeing it in you all along, I annoyed you with my whining until you couldn't take it anymore.” I swipe at my nose. “I can't stand whiners, and I totally was one.”

He wraps his arms around me, and I blubber onto his shoulder.

“I'm so, so sorry,” I keep on, in case the message hasn't gotten through. “I love who you are and what you can do, and I think you're amazing. And I miss you.”

His head rests on top of mine as he says, “All of that, right back at ya.”

After a few minutes of holding each other, we sit in the still-crowded auditorium, but he keeps an arm around me, so I snuggle against him.

“How did you know that was my favorite dance?” I finally ask.

He kisses my temple. “It wasn't that hard to figure out.”

“You're incredible. I hope someone filmed that, because if not, you'll be doing it again.”

Now he kisses my forehead and holds it longer. “I took care of it.”

“You're amazing. Did I say that already?”

“Well, I think you're pretty amazing too. You were incredible up there tonight.”

“Thanks.” I smile, nestling closer to his side. “And I'm sorry, if I didn't say that already too. If you want to be a baseball star, that's what I want too.”

I feel him exhale underneath me. “You want to know what kept me in dance as long as I stayed with it?” I nod. “Girls in leotards.”

“Get out.” I slap his arm.

“Seriously. I got to hang out with a room full of them every day, dance close to them, lift them. I mean, you get to touch girls pretty much everywhere. Why wouldn't I want to do that?”

“Ugh, you're such a guy,” I scoff, though I can't stop smiling.

“But when I started showing potential with baseball, my dad wouldn't let it go. Then I grew to love it, and Dad talked me into quitting performing—”

“But you still dance on your own.”

“Yeah. It's a great workout, so I like keeping up with it. It would be a waste to just let everything go that I spent years learning. But training and preparing for shows, it takes too much time away from baseball. As much as I might get annoyed with my dad for his micromanaging, it's still what I want for myself.”

I let this sink in. “I know I didn't see much of your practice before you got beamed, but from what I could tell, you're just as good at that as you are at dancing. I think you're going to go far; I really believe that.”

He hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my face up to look at him. “Thank you for saying that.”

He presses his lips to mine and I lose all awareness of where I am. Oh, how I've missed this. The floating, the spinning, the chills. When we surface, I lean over the armrest between us and snuggle back down against his chest. I know we can't sit here all night, but just a little bit longer. I need to soak it in. Believe it's happening.

“It's about time you two kissed and made up.” Tiffany's voice cuts through my daze, echoing through the near empty theatre. “Speaking of kissing, did y'all see the lips on that guy who was helping you with music, Jesse? The taller guy on the end. I don't know what that instrument is called. One of the horns.”

“Oh.” Jesse clears his throat and crosses an ankle at the knee, relaxing deeper into the chair. “Sorry. He doesn't like girls.”

“Ugh, figures.” Tiffany rests her fists on her hips. “What about the guy next to him. He wasn't too bad looking.”

“Colter,” Jesse says, amused. “I'll introduce you.”

“Sweet, thanks! Great job with the tappity-tapping, by the way. Super hot.” She flips back her ponytail from in front of her. “Okay, I'm outta here. Congrats on the win, Maddie. Y'all were awesome!”

As we watch her nearly skip down the aisle, Brian and a short, ginger-headed girl make their way toward us.

“Hey, we're about to leave,” Brian says, “but I wanted you to meet Kristi.”

“Oh!” I spring to my feet and extend my hand, but she flings her arms around my neck.

“It's so good to finally meet you,” she says in a thick and adorable Southern drawl. “Y'all did
so
good tonight!”

“Thanks!” I say, returning the hug. “I'm so glad to meet you too.”

“I've never seen that movie, but I'm dying to now!”

“We'll watch it tomorrow,” Brian says, reaching for her hand to pull her close, ears flaming red. He's completely smitten, and it's adorable. “I borrowed the DVD from Maddie to practice.”

My work here is done.

After I introduce her to Jesse, Kristi and Brian leave to get frozen yogurt with Sarah and Ryan to celebrate. I decline the invite in favor of staying with Jesse alone just a little longer. I'm hoping there's a way we can ride home together.

When we sit back down, I clear my throat and muster the courage to ask the heavy question I'm not completely sure I want an answer to. “So, I need to know something.”

He leans into me. “Anything.”

“I need to know you don't feel pressure to be with someone like . . . Gabby. I'm not going to cause problems for you or anything, am I?” I hold perfectly still, waiting for his response.

“You're worried about my dad.” He nods, understanding, but then the nod evolves into a shake. “Don't be. Ever. Please. He gets it. He fell in love with my mom, didn't he?” The corner of his mouth perks in its cute little way.

He said love and didn't flinch. My insides warm.

“I'm proud of where I come from,” he continues, “but it's only a part of who I am. I have to be my own person, and know what I want for myself. And what I want is to be with you.”

My cheeks hurt from grinning like a fool. “That's what I want too.”

“Oh, you haven't left yet.” Mrs. Morales approaches us fast. “You kids did so good, I can't stop smiling!”

We stand and Mrs. Morales pulls her son into her arms.

“I'm so glad you decided to do a talent show instead of a big spring musical,” I say.

“Me too, me too. Listen,” she says, switching to serious mode. “I've been looking for you. I've already got the rest of your team in my office. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell want to meet with y'all.”

My pulse races as I brace myself for clarification. Anytime someone calls you to their office, it's an automatic sinking feeling. “Who?”

“They're talent scouts. They work for an agency downtown. I've known them for years; they're completely legitimate. Anyway, they thought the four of you really put together something special.”

Talent scouts!
This has to be the thing Rica was being so cryptic about. I'm surprised she didn't make a huge deal about it to throw everyone off their game. But then she'd lose her advantage of being the only one who knew how important our performances were tonight.

“Whoa. Who else do they want to talk to?” I ask.

“A few from the orchestra and Rica.”

Of course.
I can only console myself with the hope that one day she'll get the wake-up call that forces her to change the way she treats people.

“And Jesse,” she adds, beaming at him.

Jesse raises his hands and shakes his head. “No way; this was a one-time thing. Unless they're also baseball scouts, I'm going to pass.”

She nods, her smile breaking only a fraction. “I told them that's what you'd say. Just know, they said they were extremely impressed and you did the famous number proud. And I'm proud too, of course.” She places a hand on his shoulder before turning back to me. “So, can you be in my office in a few minutes?”

“Yes, ma'am! Thank you so much!” I call as she scurries back the way she came.

Jaw slack, I turn to Jesse, whose smile is wider than I've ever seen. “This could be good, right?”

He laughs. “My little Marilyn.” He lifts me into a hug, twirling me in a circle, and my wig falls to the floor.

I snatch it and comb my fingers through my real hair, matted and sweaty. “Ugh, I'm sorry you have to see me like this. I feel disgusting.”

He shushes me with a finger to my lips. “You're beautiful.”

“You are.” I smile a stupidly giddy smile and bury my face in his neck. “Have I mentioned how sorry I am?”

“Stop it.” He palms the back of my head and makes me look at him. “No more apologizing. We're good, all right?”

And because I've missed his lips so, I lean forward until we're touching, ever so softly. “All right.”

Clasping my hand, he leads me to the side aisle to make our way to his mom's office for my meeting. I'm buzzing with anticipation, no idea what they're going to say. Do they come right out and offer something? Representation? Classes?

We make it to the front hallway and a flash of yellow catches my eye. I look up to the doorway just in time to spot Angela leaving with . . .
Red
? And they're holding hands! I'm about to squeal when I realize Jesse didn't see, and I decide to save that discussion for later. But this smile isn't going away any time soon. This whole day is proof that time changes things. You just have to have the patience to see it through.

“You know,” I say, tugging on his hand, “I still haven't heard you sing.”

“You will.” He flashes me that smirk I haven't seen in so long. “We've got plenty of time.”

“Yeah.” My insides tingle. “We do.”