"Up...Down...Catch...Switch. Up...Down...Catch...Switch."
I murmured the actions as my eyes followed the small, different-colored balls at the center of the stage that kept distracting me from my assigned task. Miss Lauren Sawyerâour Drama teacher, Counselor, and the lady that was self-hired as my babysitterâwas juggling to keep her mind off her "negative emotions" as she prefered to label them, while the rest of us practiced feigning ignorance at her clear favoritism towards the late comer.
I let myself enjoy the twitch of her eyes and agitation of her partially dead soul for a minute longer before turning back to the blackboard and clearing off half of the individual writings on it.
Miss Sawyer and I have a history that, if I had my way, I'd pluck from my memory and light it on fire. Then I'd stand in my nicest Grim Reaper costume and watch it turn to ashes, a toothy smile on my face and my black watering can in hand. Empty as it would be, the symbolism there would make for a good outro on her otherwise revolting presence in my head.
See, the thing is, Miss Sawyer believes I need therapyâhah, as if!â and, in the past, she had made sure to verbalize this point whenever the opportunity arose. The opportunity here being whenever my mom was in earshot.
She has this silly notion playing in a loop on her mind that losing my father broke me way more than I was letting on and that I needed to be committed. Involuntarily. To a psych ward.
Ha...
She only stopped voicing out her unwanted opinion when mom went off on her for calling me crazy. Still, because of her, mom's always worried about me, always on edge, as if I might, I don't know, harm myself in some way.
That's why mom keeps the meds in her room, away from my wandering hands. She even put a lock on it after my little stunt the other day, can you believe it? My own mother doesn't trust me! It's like she thinks I'm too dumb to think of other ways to go about it. Like throwing myself off a cliff.
Hm, maybe The Cliff would do.
I chuckled at that, waving my hands in the air hysterically. That didn't come off too well among my fellow club members. Luckily, Miss Sawyer was too busy moping to notice my screw up and I got away with it with only a few judgmental and slightly scared stares from others.
Anyway, back to Miss Sawyer.
This woman thinks that, mentally, I'm as stable as an old, rickety bridge and I know she should have her license revoked. It's not like she was a real psychiatrist. Just a really opinionated councilor that thought her word was the Bible and everything else was not worth an ear. She'd do anything to have me hospitalized.
Yet, at the youthful age of twelve and a half, I had somehow managed to scheme this 'oh so wise' woman into a common ground and avoid the claws of isolation from my family by way of my very own arsenal: blackmail, a last resort if I ever got backed into a corner and needed a way out.
I had threatened to pull out her hidden file of failed prescriptions and distribute it to the public with one click of a button on my old laptop. She had caved instantly.
In the end, we shook on it after I agreed to publicly give in to her delusions in order for her to save face by admitting that I had needed help, that I was as crazy as she wanted everyone to believe, and that it would be best if she oversees my progress from mourning my dad.
In return, she'd hold off on the crazy talk and get off my case. She ended up cutting the process of moving me over to the next town for treatment short. Still, the humiliation I had felt from doing that still haunts me to this day and the guilt of having mom cry over it carved a permanent wound in my chest.
All of those factors made this moment all the more enjoyable. It was a challenge trying to hide my grin of satisfaction. One that I failed at horribly, seeing as all heads swiveled in my direction once more at my partially concealed chuckle in disgust.
I ignored them.
Miss Sawyer had put me in a bird's eye view of her to study my behavior some more. Which meant I was part of management. As in, I managed everybody's attitude here and worked behind the scenes, mostly making props and lending a hand to just about everyone.
I was everywhere, really.
Stagehand wouldn't quite explain my occupation. I also helped the scriptwriter and acted small parts in the play. Like a singular dried out tree or the table. Oh, they loved making me the table.
Most errands were left to me since I knew just about every store in town.
It's like I said, the Smith's hands are like magic and we go above and beyond to exercise our talents as much as possible. Most store owners take advantage of this. They call us up whenever they need help. Cash gets all the discounts he can wring out of their wallets but I was too shy to put a price or profit on my work so you can probably guess who they call up more.
Miss Sawyer suddenly stopped her juggling, the balls coming to a rest in her left hand as her eyes once again drew to the entry. I watched her face droop when she found nothing but air and she sighed. Her hands fell to her sides in disappointment. I don't get why she's so upset. It's not like this wasn't a regular occurrence.
He always comes late.
Not that it's his fault...
We were all waiting for him, the star of our production. Our main man. Mr. Notoriously Popular. The king of our town's theatre. Or as I like to call him, Just-In. Though, I don't think he'd appreciate me calling him that out loud.
He hadn't shown up to school since his fight with Cash, and now he was late for our yearly first official meeting. As usual.
Just when I had begun creating imageries in my mind of him having been kidnapped by aliens, he burst through the connected doors, eliciting gasps from everyone present and leaving me sulking in the corner.
Okay, I admit it. Seeing him come in just then put a wet sponge on my mood. I was really looking forward to hunting down some aliens. It was a small town after all and everybody knows how much aliens love rural areas.
I think it would be best that I lay off the paranormal section for a while. I'm starting to think like a weirdo. My eyes drew to Miss Sawyer.
God, no.
Mr. Worldwide threw his bag in one of the empty seats and strode down the aisle to join us on the wooden stageâone of the only three we had in town. Except he didn't join us, opting for a front row seat instead.
I looked from our now seething instructor to an aloof Justin. The others didn't show it on their faces but I could tell that they were at least a bit ticked off with his tardiness. I know I am. An explanation would be nice right about now.
"I have shifts at Beacon's on Saturdays." He cut through the tension as if he could hear my thoughts. I narrowed my eyes in suspicionâmaybe I shouldn't hold off on the alien abduction theory just yetâwhile everyone else's face lit up in recognition.
I mean, of course.
It was a pretty small town. There were about two handfuls of actual convenience stores here, minus the two or three small shops that were bound to close down any minute now from lack of any actual business. We had a bowling alley, thoughâalways packed with old raisinsâand about three gaming centres.
That's got to count for something.
It's not always boring. We do Thanksgiving together. Our Mayor, Hero's dad, always plans annual bonding events so it's not so bad. And the neighbors are nice. Well, my neighbors are nice. Justin's however...I don't know. He lives in the more underdeveloped part of town. The part with bad people. Hero's dad says he's working on it but, so far, I haven't heard of any major changes yet. Only the big golf field he's built for the upper class has been brought to my attention by our town's old beauty. Mom would rant ceaselessly through an entire day whenever she was reminded of it by something or other.
She hates our mayor, but he loves her. He'd go out of his way to impress her. But that's a whole other can of worms that I'd rather not open. Ever.
The unfair upper-class treatment is the main reason Cash and Justin had argued last time. The girl Cash had messed with used to be a friend of Justin's. She was one of those silver spoon people, the rich, stuck up types that thought they could always get their way no matter what. Turns out, she hadn't seen Justin as a friend but as a means to an end. The end here being my brother and Cash, after reading her like an open book, took matters into his own hands and taught her a lesson she'd never forget.
That didn't go down well with Justin. Although he appreciated Cash's willingness to help, he didn't like how he went about it and that led up to their argument.
As told by my brother a few days ago. Right before we got caught staying up until the sunrise by our mother.
Justin caught me staringânot intentionally. I had zoned out completelyâand my eyes scurried back to the board, my hand swishing the duster over the chalk in a hurry.
I hope Justin escapes this town after graduation. Few get the chance to and among those, many end up returning and settling here for the rest of their lives. Like my mom.
Donovan's parents were lucky. They had no attachments here but mom did. She stayed loyal to the town and loyal to my dad's memory. She was trapped here by duty. Like her mom had been. I'd be breaking that chain. Cash would too.
Since our town only has three relevant high schools, most graduates leave for college while others decide to undergo more torturous boredom by taking over the family business or just staying because they 'felt like it.' It's ludicrous, I know, but people actually like this tight, small, cramped up space. They breathe the still air to live and live to breathe the still air.
Ms. Sawyer had already brought out a summary leaflet of the first jumpstart acts we were going to be working on. My stomach gurgled as I stood at the sidelines, watching as everyone got handed a copy. I already knew what everyone would choose since Halloween was fast approaching and only one of the choices had to do with that.
It was a short play of a bit of a freaky slash comedic thriller, written by Terry, the nerd Donovan plays chess with, and me over the summer. So while everyone else had been hanging out at the pool, the Cliffs or doing something fun with their lives, I was meeting up with Terry at our local library to get these done. We had finished the drafts but it still needed editing. It doesn't take a lot of brainpower to know who that job had been tossed onto.
Anyway, it was sure to be another hit within our small little town. I'm sure Miss Sawyer only put the other plays there to make it seem like a choice. She was a huge Halloween Enthusiast. And she says I have issues.
I busied myself on the board, doodling my time away while they argued among themselves about who would be the best fit for what.
My name was called once. I'd be helping Arnold and Olivia bring their ideas to life. Miss Sawyer didn't need to announce it, though. I know for a fact that, just like last year, I would be running around and helping everybody with their duties all at once, getting judged on whatever break I took, and putting up with people's crappy attitudes.
Kids here think calling me Hedgehog's an insult, and that being known as a faceless freak hurts me, but honestly, I love putting on that smelly costume and shutting the world out. Hiding my face is how I cope and I'm not going to give that up anytime soon just because a couple of kids make fun of me for it.
It was my hope that if I hid myself from them, they'd all just ignore me like I did them.
I flinched as a cupcake smacked the board, right where my hand was and fell splat on the stage. One of the cupcakes that Donovan had sworn would get me friends if I shared some with my club members today.
"Oh, sorry, my hand slipped."
I wish my hand would slip and leave a five-finger watermark in the middle of his face. That would wipe that patronizing grin off for sure.
"Clean that up." Miss Sawyer ordered, not even looking at Arnold. He pushed off the prop desk and jogged on over to the mess, his snickers reserved for my ears only.
"You're missing out, you idiot." Terry moaned, holding his half-eaten cupcake up in salute to me. "Don't mind him, Harley. He's just goofing around."
"Yeah, how'd you make this?" One of the girls, a freshman still unaware of my history, asked, savoring a bite. "It tastes so good."
My mood lifted as one by one, they all piped up with compliments. Looks like Donovan was right. What am I saying, he's always right.
They moved on to the protagonist which would be a 'female', a lady. She was a clueless, people-pleasing clumsy girl. As much as I expected from a woman written by a man. Terry had laughed at my suggestion to switch it up a little this year. He's not mean to me like the others, just really egotistical.
He thinks his writing has no flaws and leaves no room for correction or improvement in his genius. I think his writing's decent, but it'll never be great.
The options of the female lead wavered between Cheryl, a short and beautiful white girl, and Peony, a short milk chocolate brown girl. Their friends called them Cherry, because of her red hair, and Pea, because of her chest area. Yes, I know names. I am so interesting.
As you can see, there wasn't much light for tall girls on this stage. People would rather stare at short girls who stumbled over their lines and had about as much talent as a rock than tall girls who actually could act to save their lives. Not to hate on Peony or Cherylâthey're not even that bad, if I'm being honestâbut it's always been the two of them hogging the limelight like every other person here were just the supporting characters to their main leads. At that sour thought, I drew further away from their conversation. I didn't expect my name to even float in there on accident. It just wouldn't happen.
"Harley."
...then again accidents aren't meant to happen or they wouldn't be called accidents. This was freaking intentional. A rare phenomenon had really occurred. My name had been spoken. Not to pull the drawing board closer or fly to the nearest convenience store. No, my name had been called out as a suggestion and I was at a loss for words.
I audibly gasped when a hand came around my shoulders out of nowhere and pulled my disoriented, quaking form that was still holding the duster into the ring and conversation.
Justin's smile hinted that I shut my trap if I didn't want to be thrown off the stage like a frisbee as he pulled me next to the other stagehands. He sauntered down from the stage, abandoning me in the mix of his action's consequence.
"Harley?!" Like a choir to the church, they sang my name in harmony and symphony. Except, this time, there wasn't a hint of praise in their tone. They were the perfect picture of a rabies-infected horde as all their eyes glared into the judge's seats below where Justin had retreated, his feet kicked up on the counter and arms crossed in defiance. His eyes were pinned on Miss Sawyer, a hidden message that she caught on to as we all waited for her verdict.
She looked back at me, shushing the torrents of protests that were coming from the others and my face fell.
"She did do well in her last performance." Yeah, way back when you didn't think I was crazy. "Tell you what, how about we host an open audition around...hmm, let's say, next week Wednesday? and then we'll decide who would best fit the role. In the meantime, we'll all focus on the stage setup. That sounds fair, right?"
Before I could buckle up my big girl pants and offer my opinion on the entire subject, Justin's eyes shot up to mine, a sign that I shut up, and waved me down to him.
"You can ask."
"Why did you do that?!" The question flew out of my mouth before I could get a grip on my emotions. He arched an eyebrow, his eyes moving in my general direction before focusing back on the stage where everyone else was doing a brilliant job of explaining to Miss Sawyer why this was a bad idea.
"Because I can."
"Perfect explanation." I quipped,nodding sarcastically at him before lunging onto his shoulders and squeezing. Hard. "How the hell am I going to perform in front of the whole town?!"
Justin cleared his throat and I realized we were getting a few weird stares from some of the girls atop the stage. I let go with a nervous chuckle, patting his shoulder so that they'd see he was still in perfect condition and I wasn't strangling their only beacon of hope at a good show.
Ha, pun most definitely intended.
"You've done it before." He said. "Just do what you did last time and you'll be fine."
End credits. This time from yours truly.
"You're dragging it."
"I don't think you understand." I exhaled calmly. "They hate me. This is going to be a disaster."
"If they hate you so much, how come the last time you were on stage was the only time this theater got a taste of success?"
"I was twelve then and a joke to the entire town. People laughed for days. It became a trend. 'Harley the Reindeer' are you kidding me?"
"It was memorable. People liked it. There was even merchandise."
"I didn't see any merchandise..."
"That's crazy." He drawled out and turned fully to take in my shocked expression. "Seeing as it was Cash that ran that entire thing."
"He did what?"
"Yep. Strung it till it was dry and still left it to hang. Classic Cash."
"You'll be calling him Broke when I'm done with him." I muttered then groaned. "No wonder he had so much pocket money that year. He even tried to convince me to take pictures with people."
"Seems perfectly reasonable." Justin shrugged. "That was a fun year."
"It was humiliating!"
"Too bad. You're doing it." He shrugged. "Principal Hemsher says you're competing for Miss Beauty this year which means you being the star of the show would attract the oldies who can't stop creeping after your mom to save their lives. They want to see what her legacy is capable ofâ"
"Screwing up, that's what I'm capable of."
"Doesn't matter." He said. "You'll bring in traffic. See, Harley, life doesn't just open doors for people like me. I have to carve my own doors then lodge them open with a crowbar which is why I'm even considering this in the first place. I'm looking for a sponsor to fund my acting and you're going to help me get one by pulling your weight in this play."
"I don't see how me embarrassing myself could possibly be the key to you finding a sponsor but good luck with that. I'm out."
"I'm not asking."He laughed, pulling me back down. His grip on my hand was enough of a sign to hear him out. "You're doing it whether you want to or not."
"You Populars sure are entitled." I grumbled under my breath. I sighed. "Justin, I don't even know if I'll get the part."
"Oh, you will." He said, matter-of-factly. "I'll help you go through your lines and, I don't know if you're aware of this but you have a really expressive face, Harley. Like right now. I can tell you want to bite my head off even with all that hair in the way."
I forced a smile.
"That's unnerving to look at." He clicked his tongue and laughed. "Look, I'll get my sponsor and you'll get the recognition you need to win the beauty pageant. It's perfect." He said. "Besides, why shouldn't you get a chance? It's not like they're any better."
I frowned, my attention going to where he had nudged his head. For that, I didn't have an answer. I know that there are a lot of others who would hate 'hedgehog hair' playing a major role in this year's show and not them. I really didn't want any trouble. I had managed to be as neutral as possible until senior year. Well, as neutral as I could be without nature's interference. Changing that would draw a whole lot of attention my way.
The bad kind.
"Justin?"
"Yes, my golden ticket?"
I almost laughed.
"Why have you been skipping school?" I asked and he shrugged. "Are you that mad at Cash?"
"What? No." He shook his head. "I'm not mad at Cash. He was right in the end. I've just been busy lately."
"And the bruises on your neck?" I couldn't help but run my mouth. It was just too noticeable. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for going this long into our conversation without bringing it up.
"Oh, these?" He rubbed at it before pulling his collar up. "One of my girls got a little too rough in bed andâ"
"TMI!" I cupped my ears and he laughed.
"You asked, I answered."
"Tell me to mind my business next time." I groaned, feeling sick to my stomach and not just because of my period cramps. My next wordsâa mumble, reallyârequired me to hide my reddened cheeks. "Just come to school already. There's a lot you're missing out on. You're destined to repeat a year if you keep this up."
"Alright, mom." He rolled his eyes, chuckling when I involuntarily maxed the redness in my face. "I'll show, don't worry." He sighed, lowering his gaze to his lap and mumbling,
"I'll show."
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