Upper Montclair is a series of expensive homes and more expensive mansions. Mom pulls up in front of one of the mansions. It’s not like a castle or anything, but it’s huge and every light is on.
“This is a nice place,” Mom says.
“Derek’s dad is Thomas Dunkirk.”
“The architect?”
“That’s the one.”
The windows are open, and I can hear Peter singing the title song from Rent at the top of his lungs. All those TV shows about singers and theater people have raised expectations super high in our theater department. People think they have to be singing and dancing in perfect synchronization all the time without rehearsal. But real life isn’t synchronized like that. It’s a mess. Like our theater department.
I open the car door, but I don’t get out yet. I turn back to Mom. “You know how I keep telling you that Josh and I are talking? It’s a lie,” I say.
“Why would you lie about that?”
“I call him, but he never calls me back.”
“Never?”
“Like once every six months.”
“That makes me angry,” Mom says. “I’m going to talk with him.”
“Don’t,” I say. “Let me do it, Mom. I need to have a serious talk with him. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”
Mom nods. “Good for you,” she says.
I get out of the car.
“I’ll get a ride home with someone. It might be late.”
“How late?”
“Mom, it’s a cast party.”
“I worry. I can’t help it.”
“I’ll text you before midnight.”
“Okay,” Mom says, relieved. “Enjoy yourself.”
She puts on her signal and pulls out slowly, even though the road is deserted. I open Derek’s giant front door and walk into the middle of a wild celebration.
“Welcome to Fame Lite,” Grace says when she sees me.
“People are excited about the show,” I say.
“That’s an understatement,” Grace says. “You’re kind of a hero tonight.”
I shrug.
“I’m not trying to get in your pants,” Grace says. “Take the compliment.”
“Taken,” I say.
“Speaking of pants, did you notice I’m out of uniform tonight?” Grace says.
She spins, a cute yellow skirt swirling around her legs. I notice she has a big scab on her knee.
“I’ve never seen you in a skirt,” I say.
“I figured I’d act like a chick for one night. A techie chick.”
“Very nice.”
“Does it make you want me?” Grace says. She wiggles her eyebrows and I laugh.
“I want you as a friend,” I say.
“Do you mean real friends, or the thing where I’m the creepy girl and you’re the guy who pretends to like me but you’re just putting up with me?”
“Real friends,” I say.
Her face lights up.
I catch sight of Reach across the room. He waves.
“What do you think of Reach?” I say.
“He’s a jerk.”
Across the room, Reach does a robot dance over to an ice bucket filled with soda.
“A strangely compelling jerk,” Grace says.
“He’s single, you know.”
“By the look of things, he’s going to stay that way.”
“He’s a good guy. I mean, once you get past the exterior trappings. Like his personality.”
Grace laughs. “Are you trying to pawn me off on your friend?”
“You two might make a good match.”
She wrinkles her nose at me.
Reach comes over and hands me a soda from his robot claw. “You made it,” he says to me. “And Grace …”
He looks down.
“… in a skirt. Interesting.”
“Did you know I have legs?” she says.
“I’ve seen you walking, so I assumed they were under there somewhere,” Reach says.
He glances at her chest.
“I need a soda,” Grace says. “I’ll let you two have some male-bonding time.” She walks into the crowd.
“When did she grow boobs?” Reach says.
“I’m pretty sure she’s had them all along.”
“Boobs. Legs. I need to take my radar into the shop,” Reach says.
“Onto more serious matters,” I say.
“Exactly,” Reach says. “We need to talk.”
We wind our way through the crowd, several techies shouting when they see me and clapping me on the back. Reach and I find a private corner.
“I had a conversation with Johanna,” I say.
“That can be an unpleasant experience,” Reach says.
“So it’s true.”
Reach exhales, his long arms slumping by his sides.
“I had a crush on her,” he says.
“Had?”
“It’s over now. Mostly over. Now I just wince and feel like shit every time I see her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say.
“I was embarrassed. I don’t even know how it happened. It came out of nowhere. Like Ebola. Horny ebola.”
“We had a pact. No secrets.”
“How could I tell you?” Reach says. “She was an actor. I was breaking the techie code.”
“In a soft and furry way.”
Reach moans and covers his eyes.
“She told you about the teddy bear?” he says.
“At least you didn’t do the Altoids tin.”
“Half Crack told me I should do the hair-in-the-tin thing, but I never take advice from that guy.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to get rid of the memory.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Summer?” he says.
“Same reason as you.”
“We let girls get between us,” Reach says.
“Love turns you into a maniac,” I say. “There’s no other explanation.”
“We need a new pact,” Reach says. “Friendship first, girlfriends second. A close second. But definitely second.”
I raise my soda.
“Here’s to getting girlfriends,” I say, “so we can put them second.”
We tap sodas and drink.
“You really made a tiny Macy’s bag?” I say.
“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Not for at least six months.”
I hear girls laughing down the hall. I scan the room, trying to locate Summer.
“What are you going to do about your own actor problem?” Reach says.
“What do you think?”
“Are you asking for my advice?”
“I guess I am. Imagine that.”
“I think you should grow a pair,” Reach says. “Actually, I saw you out on that stage tonight. You already have a pair. A big pair. You just need to swing them a little bit.”
“It could get embarrassing,” I say.
“We’re techies. Embarrassment is like mother’s milk to us.”
“In that case, I’m going to take a walk,” I say.
“Try the living room,” Reach says. “And hey—I’ve got your back.”
“I’m glad,” I say.
I throw him a salute and step into the crowd.
As I walk through the house, I’m surprised to find things divided just like they always were. There are actor rooms and a techie rooms, actor conversations and techie conversations. Part of me thought that tonight’s show would bring everyone together in a new way. But it feels like people left the show and went right back to business as usual.
I find Summer in the living room like Reach predicted. The whole theater department is in here, divided like Germany after World War II, techies on one side and actors on the other.
I walk through the techies. They seem excited to see me, maybe a little surprised, too. I’m not exactly known for my social “A” game. I shake hands as I go and I’m friendly to everyone, but I don’t stop walking.
I pause when I get to the dividing line between techies and actors.
That’s when I see Derek.
He’s deep in actor territory, talking to a large group and gesticulating. I can imagine what he’s been saying about me.
I ruined his show. I did it on purpose. I don’t care about the theater, only about my career.
Who knows what else?
Summer isn’t in his group. She’s all the way on the far side of the room near the unlit fireplace.
I head towards her. There are some actors in my way, and I excuse myself. I’m almost there when Derek appears in front of me, blocking the way.
He smiles like he’s happy to see me.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, and he sweeps his arm in a circle around the gargantuan living room.
“You mean your dad’s abode,” I say.
He shrugs.
“He built the house. But he’s out of town, so we all get to enjoy it,” he says.
“I thought he was coming to the show,” I say.
“I thought so, too,” Derek says.
Derek looks sad, and for a second I feel sorry for him. But then he starts smiling again.
“It’s not a problem,” he says. “In fact it worked out better for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“If my father had been here, he wouldn’t have seen my show. He would have seen your giant candelabra. By the time he gets back next weekend, we will be up and running, tech and all. Then he can see the real thing.”
Derek laughs to himself.
“Yes, indeed,” he says. “Tonight was exciting, but next weekend is going to be groundbreaking.”
He steps back and puts his arm around Summer.
“Lots to celebrate,” he says.
It’s not like Summer melts into his arms. Far from it. But she doesn’t shrug him off either. I can see where this is headed. I’m out of the picture now. He’ll pick up where he left off with his design, with Summer. It’s his theater department again. He’ll go until he gets what he wants or until he’s bored.
The thought is almost too much for me.
I want to run away. Maybe Mom is still outside, and I can get a ride home with her. Maybe nobody will remember that I was here.
But I’ve spent my life running from moments like this.
“I want to talk to Summer,” I say.
Derek’s eyes widen in surprise.
“But does she want to talk to you?” he says.
There’s one way to find out.
“Hi,” I say to Summer.
“Hi,” she says.
The room quiets down. I can feel the actors and techies behind me, watching.
“I don’t want to be the funny friend,” I say.
“What’s the funny friend?” Summer says.
“You know, the guy who hangs around you, and you tell him all your secrets or whatever, and then he smells like your shampoo.”
“What are you talking about, Ziggy?”
“I don’t want to be just friends.”
“Who do you want to be?” Derek says. His arm is still around her shoulders.
“I want to be more than that,” I say to Summer.
I feel my face burning.
“I don’t understand,” Summer says.
“I’m trying to tell you that you’re special,” I say.
“She knows that already,” Derek says.
“Maybe I don’t know it,” Summer says. “Maybe I want to hear it.”
“Yawn,” Derek says.
“Tell me more,” Summer says.
Derek looks pissed. He takes his arm off her shoulder.
“Give it your best shot,” he says to me.
“First of all, you’re pretty,” I say. “And cool. And funny. And pretty.”
“Ziggy, I have to be honest. You’re kind of laming out here,” she says.
“Please be quiet for a second,” I say.
“Tell her to shut up,” Derek says. “Smart move.”
“Why should I be quiet?” Summer says.
“Because I’m trying to tell you something important,” I say.
She takes a breath and waits.
“I’m so bad at this,” I say.
“You’re doing pretty good now,” she says.
“I like you a lot,” I say.
“In a friend way?” she says.
“In a girlfriend way.”
She looks into my eyes.
I’m used to actors looking over my shoulder, looking past me, looking straight through. That’s not what Summer does. Not now.
“Well, Ziggy. That’s something to say.”
“It sure is,” Derek says. “A little cliché. Not at all poetic.”
“I’m a techie. I’m not good with poetry. I’m better with the real thing.”
“Is this the real thing?” she says.
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“I think …,” she says.
And then she pauses, biting her lip with her right front tooth. I see the little line there, the scar from the accident she had when she was a kid. I wish I had been there when Summer fell. I would have put my arms around her and hugged her until she stopped crying.
“I think …,” she says again.
“What?” I say softly, because I can see she’s struggling with something.
“I think it’s good news, what you said.”
“Why is that?” I say.
“Because I like you, too,” she says.
“Theater people care about each other,” Derek says. “It’s natural to be friends.”
“As more than a friend,” Summer says. “As a boyfriend.”
Derek’s smile goes away.
“You two are creeping me out,” he says.
He looks across the room at the group of actresses who play the fairies. There’s a new girl there. A freshman.
“Cheers, ladies,” he calls out, and heads towards them.
“Thank God,” Summer says. “I thought he’d never leave.”
“You don’t like him?”
“I mean he’s talented and all. But a little bit of arrogant Brit goes a long way,” she says. “Anyway, he’s just jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Of you. Of what a star you were tonight.”
“Do you think so?” I say.
“I was impressed,” Summer says.
I glance behind me. Reach and Grace are standing across the room watching us. They both give me the thumbs-up at the same time.
“To tell you the truth, I’m surprised you want to talk to me at all,” Summer says.
“Why?”
“You were pretty angry in the practice room.”
“You were acting like a jerk,” I say.
“I know. I deserved it. That was stupid of me.”
“Very stupid.”
“Ouch, Ziggy.”
“What happened? You totally changed overnight.”
“I freaked out. Derek was telling me things, the actors were talking behind my back—add that to the pressure of the show opening, and I kind of went crazy.”
“Are you going to go crazy again?”
“I don’t plan on it,” she says.
Just then a song starts to play. A love song from the musical West Side Story. A giant whoop lets go from the actors in the room.
“What about your just friends speech?” I say.
“I don’t want to be just friends. That would be terrible,” Summer says.
A bunch of actors jump up and start doing dance moves. Soon actors are spinning around us, singing the lyrics as loud as they can, doing fakey vibrato and loving every minute of it.
“I think we should dance,” Summer says.
“Slight problem. I don’t know how,” I say.
“Put your arms around me,” she says.
I wrap my arms around her back, and she pulls me in close. I smell the delicious Summer smell.
“Hold me tighter,” she says.
And I do. We stand in the middle of the party, our arms around each other. There are some weird looks from the actors in the room, but some smiles, too. Most of the techies are smiling.
“What now?” I whisper.
“We have sex,” she says.
“Really?”
“Ziggy! Are you serious?”
“I don’t know these things!”
She gives me a playful punch on the arm, then pulls me towards her.
“Just rock back and forth,” she says in my ear.
We sway in each other’s arms, barely moving as people dance around us.
I think about my dad. I wish he could see me like this. I start to get the empty feeling inside, so I hug her tighter. The feeling doesn’t go away. It just gets softer, like I can feel it and still be okay.
“How do you feel?” Summer says.
“Like I’m waking up from a terrible dream,” I say.
Summer pulls me close.
“Wake up, wake up,” she says. “I’m right here.”
I think about what the cast party would look like from the catwalk. People’s heads bobbing up and down, moving closer and farther apart. Music heard from above. Fun viewed from up high and far away.
I’m not sure yet, but I think it’s better down here.