How was the performance?
It went off without a hitch.
Z was good?
He was competent. But…
But?
But everyone was on edge. The theater group at St. Ann’s is like a family within a family. And we knew there was a cat among the pigeons. Moreover, it felt like… We all felt as though the acid incident was a prelude, and the real tragedy was yet to come. We were all holding our breath, waiting for something to happen. But I don’t think anyone guessed how bad it would be.
—Police interview with Quincy Laughlin, senior at St. Ann’s
It isn’t right to have one person mean so much.
At rehearsal, when I thought Z hated me, my words came out in a jumble. I could scarcely remember to breathe. But then, everything fell into place.
During the performance, I kept looking out from the wings to try to spot you. It was too dark though. I figured you were likely in the very back, since you hated sitting next to strangers. But the thought of you, watching me and smiling, buoyed me. Even with a thousand eyes on me, I hardly felt jittery at all. After the performance, there were three curtain calls. Reese floated about backstage, calling the cast “inspired” and “a revelation.”
And I understood because that’s what Z was to me.
I was hugged and congratulated by people I didn’t even know. But I didn’t care about them. There was only one hug that stood out in my mind, and it was the first one I received, the second the curtains swung closed. Z wrapped his arms around me, kissed me on the ear, and whispered, “You’re a fucking acting maniac, Lady M.”
How could I not love him after that?
Not that I didn’t already love him.
I mean, as a friend.
Of course, Z was incredible. I doubt classically trained actors with years of experience could have churned out as moving a performance. Still, he went around, congratulating every last actor, every last stagehand—from Quincy, who’d been a perfectly acceptable MacDuff, to someone’s twelve-year-old little sister who was in charge of making sure no one tampered with the water bottles again. He made everyone feel important.
News of the water-bottle incident had spread like wildfire and definitely rattled the quiet student body of St. Ann’s. Principal Cole gave a speech before the performance about how they were taking what had happened very seriously, determined to get to the bottom of it, et cetera, et cetera. According to Rachel, the police had come after Z and I left. They’d questioned people, searched the gymnasium, and found the empty vial in a nearby trash can. They took the vial in for fingerprinting. But really, the only person who got a strict tongue-lashing was Lincoln for not taking more care in storing his chemicals. In fact, rumors swirled that his job was on the line.
No doubt Z loved that.
After the performance, I spent as long as I could backstage. Nobody ate the Great Job! layer cake from Shaw’s supermarket—partly because, as you know, layer cakes from Shaw’s are always crappy and partly because everyone feared it was poisoned—but we all stood around it, congratulating one another. Parker hadn’t been onstage, so she just kind of slinked into the background. Tonight was my night, for once. I’d never felt so adored, so a part of the St. Ann’s family.
Being onstage must release endorphins because I was pumped, and so was Z. He looked hotter than I’d ever seen him. After we changed, he came out of the dressing room wearing his jeans, a raggedy T-shirt, and the immaculate, royal Macbeth cape. He held it in front of his face, like Dracula. I giggled. Then he reached into the garment bag I was holding, which had my costume I was returning to wardrobe, and pulled out my regal red cape. He swung it over my head and tightened it at the neck. “I vant to suck your blood,” he said.
“Not if I suck yours first,” I said, making my pointer fingers into fangs and wiggling them in his direction.
He grabbed for me, and I shrieked and ran away. Laughing, he chased me all the way out to the hallway, where I stopped short. He caught up to me and threw his arm over my shoulder. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. I swatted him away.
Because my parents and your mom were there.
I looked for you, and my heart sank as I realized you hadn’t come. I knew it was a long shot to ask, what with your anxiety. Still, I’d hoped. I know you didn’t want to let me down.
But you did. I understand why, but it hurt me not to see you there. I suppose after what I did to you at Perahia, I deserved that little turnabout, didn’t I?
I introduced Z your parents, and they all told me how wonderful I’d been. Then they heaped their praise on Z. Your mother told me she was so happy for me and hugged me tight.
I told your mom, “I’m sorry Andrew couldn’t be here.”
My father cleared his throat. My mother hooked her arm through mine, as if expecting me to collapse like a house of cards. But all I was thinking was that maybe it was better this way. You were where you wanted to be, and I was where I wanted to be.
Oh God, you could cut the awkward silence with a knife. Their eggshell smiles told me everything. They’d watched Z chase me out into the hallway and grab me, coming in close enough to kiss me.
They knew I’d betrayed you.
The only person who wasn’t awkward was Z. He smiled and tossed his cape over his shoulder, wordlessly taking it all in. Then he told me he’d swing by my house at seven the next day for the dance, and I nodded and waved good-bye.
He turned on his heel and sauntered down the hallway and out to the parking lot, still rocking that cape of his.
I suddenly felt goofy in my cape, so I untied it.
He had no one. Not a single person from his family had come to see his brilliant performance.
And yet I still envied him as he escaped into the cold November night.