Melt All the Ice

Scene 1: Beekman Theater

Tony Milligan

"Hi, Tony," Lisa smiled brightly as soon as she spotted me.

"Hey." I smiled back and went over to hug her. "Hi, Alison," I said less enthusiastically, and she seemed surprised that I didn't ignore her presence.

"...Hello."

Playfully, I nudged Lisa's arm. "I'm excited to see your movie, future academy award winner."

"I've been told we were too clichè for choosing the film noir genre."

"Can never go wrong with that."

"Let's hope not." She sighed, nervously. "I'm just glad the movie screening was today and not earlier in the week. We wouldn't have had a fighting chance."

"Why?" Alison asked.

"All anyone could talk about were the ratings going around. They would have been passing the sheet throughout the theater and no one would pay attention to the movie."

"Are they done with those now?" I asked, looking at Alison, and she knows exactly why.

"I think everyone ran out of writing space," Lisa responded when Alison avoided eye contact.

"Hm."

"Well, I have to get inside." Lisa leaned in and gave me another hug. "Thank you for coming. You'll tell me what you think of it, won't you?"

"I know it's great," I said, reassuringly.

Alison took Lisa's parting as a cue to leave as well, but I caught her before she could go.

"Alison." She turned around, apprehensively. "Off to make another contribution to the smear campaign?"

"What, are you wearing a wire this time?"

"No, but I saw the chart."

"Didn't you hear? Everyone did."

"Who had the pink pen? The one with the glitter in the ink?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It was used to make the poll...so, it has to belong to someone in your new clique."

"Do you want to borrow it?" She snarked.

"One of you gave Jace a 5, Garret a 2, and me a 10."

"I'll be sure to ask who."

"No need, Brooke and Evelyn wouldn't rate me that highly."

"And I would?"

"You did." I shrugged. "Do you hate me or not, Alison?"

"I never said I hated you."

"Do you like me?"

She rolled her eyes. "You have Sabrina to do that."

"Sabrina and I are friends," I replied and watched as her eyebrows drew together. "She wants to focus on her relationship with God."

Alison scoffed and nodded. "So you're running back to me."

"I didn't run away from you."

"I don't like you," she said, bluntly.

"Okay," I accepted and began to leave her alone.

"I-" she started to speak, but when I faced her again, she lost her will. "Nevermind."

"Would you like to come over this weekend?"

"I would never step foot inside your house," she said, her voice softening and revealing the root of our issues.

"My parents are going to Syracuse. They won't be back until Monday."

Scene 2: Beekman Theater

Heather Blakely

We're meant to be seated according to our Homeroom class. It is meant to keep account of our attendance.

The lucky few showed up after most of the chairs were filled and they got to sit conveniently next to whoever they chose.

I'm not even near an acquaintance.

Leo and Elle walk in...too late to get seats next to one another.

There's an empty spot next to me...

I don't know which one I'd rather not sit by.

My focus remains on the screen as if the movie is already showing. I will pretend I never noticed either of you.

"Here is an open seat," Mr. Vogel tells him, and Leo lets out the deepest sigh of frustration.

There's a divider between the seats— a standard armrest that doubles as a cup holder. It isn't as if we're shoulder to shoulder, but he's still trying to sit as far from me as possible in his chair...and it makes me feel horrible.

All it took was a glance. I looked at him for only a second. We made brief eye contact and it was over just as quickly as he got up and walked toward the exit.

That's all it takes now.

I shouldn't care...he doesn't care...but I do. I hate myself so much for caring that you hate me.

Before I could overthink it. I'm hurrying after him.

He was standing in the lobby but went for the door leading outside when he saw me.

"Can we talk?" I asked, both of us carrying this animosity outdoors.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I need to say something to you."

"Too bad."

I sighed. "I'm going to do it anyway." He's turned away from me but I just know he's rolling his eyes. "I didn't mean what I said."

Leo shrugged. "I did."

"Great."

He huffed as he faced me. "Can you stop following me?"

"No," I replied. "I only said those things because of what was written in the letter."

"I didn't read your fucking letter."

"I know...and she didn't tell you what was in it."

"Because I don't care," he argued.

"That's fine, but I have it," I said as I reached into my bag. "I taped it together so that you could read it."

"I don't know how else to tell you that I don't give a fuck, Heather."

"You don't have to." I tried to hand him the haggard, wrinkled, sad sheet of paper but he started to walk away again. "Fine...I'll just read it." There's nothing to lose but the rest of my self-esteem.

"Save your breath," he announced.

"They asked us to write a goodbye letter about what we'll miss when we leave school. I wrote this one first but I couldn't let anyone else see it...which is funny now," I tried to laugh but my body couldn't find the humor in this...his couldn't either. "Okay," I swallowed hard. I wonder what would have happened if my mother read my father the things she wrote in her diary before they were together. I wonder if it would have felt as painful as this. "I will miss when everything here didn't remind me of being with you. I'll miss when I didn't feel bad for thinking about you. Writing about you. I will miss when I didn't do either," I read...in what could be called a mumble. But I've barely got his attention anyway...as if this isn't embarrassing enough. My teeth gritted. "I lied when I said I was happy for you.

I'm not. Not even a little bit." Leo finally looked at me. "It angers me, actually. That you have her. That there is a her. That she exists to you...I hate you...and that's easier to say than admitting that I regret not answering when you asked if I still loved you. I regret you...but you regret me more, and-" I shook my head, "that's not fair..."

"Heather-"

"I understand how feelings go away after a while. You made 'a while' a matter of months, and I resent you for it. I am still unraveling my feelings from my body, because every part of me loved you. So, I guess...I will miss you." I put the paper down and avoided the mistake of another glance, fleeting look, or brief eye contact. This time it would be me racing toward the door. "That's it...that's why Elle took it...that's why I said those terrible things to you. I was embarrassed and sad and I thought-"

"Come here, butterfly." He pulled me in against his chest and his arms wrapped around to keep me close.

I held him so tightly I'm lucky he didn't make me stop.

There's no way he can move...but I don't want him to...and he's not trying to.

He smells like himself...the way I remember him, but now with a hint of cigarettes. I wouldn't even know if you started smoking again. You belong to someone else.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, allowing myself to be buried in the shirt he's wearing.

"Sh." He soothed me, his hand caressing my head while I lay on him. "...I hate that you told me any of this."

"You were never supposed to know."

"Why?"

"Everything has changed...nothing is how it was."

"You went away."

I let him go, stepping back and putting another ocean between us.

"And you moved on, I see that. But I don't want you to believe I ever thought you weren't good enough for me. I was trying to hurt you and I regretted it the second I said it because it couldn't be further from the truth." I thought the world of you, Leo...nothing less.

He nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" I asked for reassurance.

"I believe you. I'm sorry I made you do this."

"It's my fault." I put my head down, staring at the retched letter in my hands. "I shouldn't have written it. I shouldn't have..."

"It's okay," he said sweetly, his tone of voice comforting me enough to be able to look him in the eyes again. And that's all we do—stare. There's more that can be said but we don't speak the same language anymore...

"Are you going back in?" I asked. I don't know where to go from here other than back. Back to how it is now. We can't stand out here forever saying nothing.

"Yeah..." Leo puts his hands in his pockets. "We shouldn't go at the same time though."

Back to how it is.

"No, you're right."

"You can go first."

"No, you." I step aside as if I'm in his way somehow. "Go make sure Elle's happy."

"Alright," he nodded...but didn't leave just yet. I couldn't look at him anymore even when I knew his eyes were on me. Seconds of missed connection passed until I finally heard his footsteps passing too.

Scene 3: 70th Street

Audrey Michaels

I check the address on my card one more time before peering past a couple in front of me to see inside the house. This is the correct place, unfortunately. There is a Dorian Gray-esque portrait of Maisilyn above the fireplace.

I thought the devil came from hell, not an upper East side townhouse.

When the couple is allowed in, I see that they exchanged their invitations for name tags.

Ew. What is this, a convention?

"How tacky," I said aloud.

"Name, please?"

"Audrey," I sighed as they wrote it on a white sticker.

"Have a nice night," the employee said, and I ignored him because he's got to be kidding me.

Grudgingly, I stuck the tag to my dress and paced slowly to the other victims of this god-forsaken gathering.

Why isn't that beast among them? This event is full of Botox and gray hair.

"Can I help you find something?" A man asked as I stared down an empty hallway.

"Oh, no, I'm waiting for someone."

"The infamous Audrey," he gasped and gestured to my name tag. "I've heard so much."

"Have you?"

"It's lovely to meet you, I'm Graham Brody, Maisilyn's father. She goes on and on about how great you are."

My eyes squinted. "Does she?"

"I'm surprised I haven't met you sooner. But she was pleased that you accepted our invitation for tonight."

"It was an offer I couldn't refuse, believe me." Your daughter is a basket case.

"I have to thank you for challenging Maisilyn this year. Whenever I see her going the extra mile it's because Audrey does this and Audrey does that," he said, oblivious to the insanity behind it.

"Yes, I know."

"Audrey," Maisilyn popped up beside me like the weasel she is. "I wasn't aware you arrived."

"We were getting acquainted," her father responded.

"She's the mayor's daughter."

"I am well aware," he dismissed her to continue speaking to me. "I've met with your father a few times, actually."

"Oh, how nice."

"He is proud of you, and I understand why. My daughter loves to surround herself with impressive people."

"Thank you, Mr. Brody."

"You have to promise to allow us to have you back soon. My wife will be so sad that she missed you after all that Mais-"

"Father, you have a penchant for exaggerating," Maisilyn stops him before he can talk more about how much she talks about me. "We all have better things to do. It isn't that important."

"Isn't she argumentative?" He asked me and added a playful chuckle. "I told her she has the makings of an attorney, but she insists on politics."

I laughed with him as Maisilyn stewed on the outskirts of the discussion. "I know who I'm voting for." Anyone other than your byproduct.

"You two enjoy. I don't want to occupy too much of your time," he smiled and waved us off, though his daughter looked on the verge of patricide.

She crossed her arms at me. "He's generous with flattery don't let it go to your already oversized head."

"I won't, it's the only thing you haven't tried to steal from me."

"I haven't stolen anything."

"You either want my life or you're trying to clone me."

"You're only here because my father wanted to meet Mayor Michaels' daughter. He thinks playing nice with your dad will get him an endorsement in the future. That's all."

"Get real," I laughed, "he wanted to meet me because you made him believe we were best friends. My appearance is to keep up your sad lie. Can I go now or would you like an autograph first?"

"Don't fall all over yourself," she scoffed, pushing past me and sauntering away from the obvious truth. I'm her idol.

This is too good.

"You look up to me, don't you, you precious thing?" The lovely embarrassment that took over her face knowing that her plan to torture me with this boring party backfired. The classic black-and-white theme turned into Maisilyn's obsession with Audrey.

"I don't look up to you." She paused midway to her destination.

"Sure, you do."

"Why would I? You're stuck up and rude."

"Pot meet kettle."

"No, I treat people the way they treat me. Meanwhile, you're turning your nose up at everyone without having as much as a conversation."

"Excuse me? Did we know each other before you decided to become the bane of my existence?"

"I knew you," Maisilyn revealed quite dramatically before she kept walking. I followed her into what seemed to be her room and...shockingly, she sleeps in a daybed rather than a coffin. "See, you wrote 'Have a nice summer!' in my yearbook," she showed me, "the standard message for people you don't think are worth more. That's why you can't even remember it."

"You're bitter over a yearbook signing?"

"We have had two classes together the entirety of high school, Audrey."

"That's so many," I said, sarcastically.

"I talked to you in both, and you treated me as if I didn't exist. But, you see me now, don't you?"

"Oh, my god, who cares? What do you want from me?"

Her hands grab hold of my arms and she pushes me until my back is against the wall and her lips are on mine.

You are crazy.

...And good at this.

Scene 4: Johnny's Grill

Leo Rylin

Elle's fingers combed through my hair while she's sitting next to me warmly gazing at my face.

"Give me a kiss," she said.

And I looked at her, our noses brushing past each other's before our lips touched. I pulled back kinda quick...it's been hard to be affectionate today— receiving or giving, but she wasn't done with me. Her mouth pressed to mine again and again in a series of short kisses until we were stopped.

"Ugh, get off of each other," Claudia complained before grabbing Elle's arm.

"Do you want anything?" Elle asked since she was being pulled toward the counter.

"Can you get me a drink?"

"Yeah, be right back." She kissed me one last time.

With them gone, it's just me and Danny.

"Where's Matt?" He asked.

"Fuck if I know, fucking asshole." He's been dodging me because he knows what he did. Every time I try to call or stop by his place, there's some excuse— work or band practice or whatever the hell he's lying about being up to.

"You gotta hash it out."

"I don't care. I've got bigger shit to deal with now." I sighed. "Have you talked to Val lately?"

"No, why?" He said, immediate concern on his face. He got to the 'I love her but I'm not in love with her' phase.

"When you did that heart-to-heart about missing each other— what was that about?"

Danny shrugged. "Just letting her know I still cared about her."

"Even though you weren't supposed to?"

"Who said I wasn't supposed to?"

"I miss Heather. I still care about her...a lot. I'm not supposed to."

"Oh..." he leaned back against the seat and sighed like I was putting extra stress on him with this.

"I like Elle. I don't even want to date Heather again but-" I shook my head and let out a deep breath.

"What?"

"I don't feel right. I'm a bad person."

"You're not."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because now I can't stop thinking about..."

Elle comes beside me again, getting in her chair and moving real close. "Want some fries?"

I watched her for a second—this nice fucking girl who would die a little if she could read my mind.

I nod and she picks one up, dips it in ketchup, and then brings it to my mouth.

"Thank you," I said as she fed me.

Elle smiles and grabs another, just happy to be here and do anything that shows how much she likes me. Even if I like her back—I'm not worth the change in my pocket.

I was pissed when I started having a crush on Heather— and this isn't the same, but it feels just like it.

Every time she clicks into my brain, I get mad at myself.

Washing dishes and thinking about her.

Watching tv and thinking about her.

Listening to music and thinking about her.

Trying to sleep and thinking about her.

Fuck.