“I’m just telling you what he said.” He shrugs. “How’s it going, by the way?”
“Cross country?”
He nods.
I lean back in my chair. “Okay. I’m less sore than I used to be.” That first week was so hard. Hardy wasn’t kidding about investing in some Advil. My legs hurt so badly I could barely get in and out of chairs, and going up the three flights of stairs to my classes at school made me wantto cry. Thankfully, the stage of constant pain has passed. Now, I just need to figure out how to get better. “I still have to walk some of the courses, but I’m crossing the finish line.”
“That’s great.” He smiles, and I’m struck by how similar it is to Connor’s. They look nothing alike, but their smiles are the same. The only difference is when David smiles, it’s genuine and kind. There’s always a touch of malice in his brother’s when it’s directed at me. “You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thanks.”
We sit in awkward silence. I’m not sure what else I can say. The natural progression is for me to say that I’m only doing it for Citrus Scholar. And the natural progression fromthatis to ask more about Connor and how he’s doing. Both are conversations that would break this strange agreement we have, so I keep my lips shut. It’s for the best.
Besides, David is on his phone again. He’s been typing away on it since we got here, barely paying attention to me. His brows furrow as he stares at the screen.
Now it’s my turn to ask, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says distractedly, his thumb hovers above the screen like he’s trying to decide how to respond. Then, he closes his eyes and sighs.
I fight the urge to reach across the table. I remind myself that we’re not really friends, just friendly. “David,” I say softly. “What’s going on?”
He opens his eyes. “Just some theater stuff.”
“What kind of theater stuff?”
He sighs. “Apparently, we’re still short on stagehands.”
I perk up. Theater is not my thing. I don’t have the bandwidth to memorize lines or practice, but I still need more options to round out my resume. The performing arts might fill a much needed space. How much work could being a stagehand be?
David shakes his head. “No.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking about joining theater.”
I laugh. “How did you know that?”
He motions at his eyes. “You get this little crinkle right here when you’re about to suggest something crazy.”
I jerk back, equally shocked and impressed. No one has ever noticed that kind of thing. At least, not that I know of. Lily is my best friend and knows my deepest, darkest secrets. I don’t want to dismiss our relationship, but this feels different, like I matter enough that someone has noticed the small things. I stare at him wide-eyed.
His cheeks get red. “Sorry. It drives Con—” He clears his throat. “It drives my family crazy when I do that.”
I wave him off. “That’s okay. But what if I did want to join theater?”
“It feels wrong, like I’m betraying my brother if you join.” He picks at his nails. They’re already chewed down to the quick. There’s nothing left to spare.
As much as I want to fill that spot, I don’t want to do it at David’s expense. Surely there’s a way that it can happen that’s a win-win situation. An idea comes to me. “What if you offer it to Connor first? See if he wants to be a stagehand.If he doesn’t, then maybe I can consider joining. That way, I’m not taking anything from Connor that he wants. He even gets first dibs.”
There’s no way Connor will join theater even with Citrus Scholar on the line. He may be smart, but he’s also popular. Theater doesn’t exactly fit into that image at our school.
A corner of David’s mouth lifts into the smallest smile. “That’s actually not a horrible idea.”
“I know.” I perk up in my seat. “You fill the spot, which saves the day for the play. And either Connor or I get to add another activity to our repertoire.”
He nods, mostly to himself. “Yeah, I think this is going to work. Thanks, Ella.”
“You’re welcome, Now, let’s try to focus on this essay.”
