Page 56 of Okay, Cupid

“I feel like that’s a normal thing to say.”

“Yeah.” She kicks her feet as we continue along our path. “I don’t know, I’m angry at her, but I’m not angry with her, if that makes any sense. I was angry at her, but I was also happy. That she got away from this life she clearly didn’t want to live. It just sucks knowing that I’m one of the reasons she didn’t want to live it.”

“Alice …” I pause.

“Please don’t say something corny like ‘It’s okay to not be okay.’ I don’t think I can handle it.” She lets out an odd sound, one that’s clearly trying to be a laugh but doesn’t quite sound right.

“No,” I tell her. “It’s not okay that it’s not okay. And it doesn’t have to be.”

She stares at me, water behind her eyes.

“I can’t imagine what that feeling is, what you’ve been through.” Yeah, maybe we’re both missing parents in some way or another, but I never knew mine. “And it’s not okay that your mom did that to you. You don’t have to pretend that it is.” Okay, I guess I’m in full-blown therapist mode. The last thing I expected when I walked through these doors was to have this heart-to-heart with Alice.

But … I like her. She’s a nice person, despite the rocky exterior that she’s built around herself. Maybe I don’t know her as well as Neve, or Huy, but I do feel like I know her in a way.

I feel like she’s my friend.

And it’s clear that this has been weighing on her.

She wipes at her eyes without thinking, and of course they come back streaked with black. “Ah, fuck!”

“Come on.” I close the gap between us. “I keep a bag in my locker.”

On the other side of the school, we’re in complete privacy. I offer Alice a wipe to clean both her eyes, giving me a mostly fresh canvas to start from.

“Thanks,” Alice whispers.

“Of course.” I ready my primer. “It’s my fault anyway.”

“Right.” She laughs, rubbing the primer into her skin. I don’t own any foundation that matches her more golden skin tone, but with some careful blending, I can make things work. “Thanks,” she says softly. “For what you said back there.”

“No thanks needed.” I use a deeper shade of eye shadow to blend out the foundation and concealer she has on. I know I told her that I don’t know what she’s feeling, but at least Alice got to know her mother before she left.

I stare at her carefully, drawing her eyeliner in an extremely careful single stroke. Replacing her eye shadow and mascara, I look at my work.

It feels good to know what I’m doing.

• • •

Once we get to the auditorium, we find Mr. Lawson racing around. I’ve never seen an actual chicken without its head, but if I had to guess what it looked like, I’d say Mr. Lawson is doing a pretty good impression.

“I thought this was just a showcase for some kids,” I whisper to Alice.

“It is, but I’ll remind you that the number of kids who sign up for orchestra helps determine the budget every year. The more kids he has, the more funding. Not enough kids and …” She makes a cutting motion at her throat, sticking her tongue out for a little dramatic effect.

“That’s harsh.”

“The public school system, baby!” Alice sings. “Mind you, the county didn’t bat an eye at the cost of the football field renovations last year. But Mrs. Jackson, the art teacher, has to buy canvases and paint out of her own pocket.”

I step backstage with Alice, where she switches into flat shoes and grabs her drumsticks. Mr. Lawson manages to squeeze in two full rounds of rehearsals before the time for the doors to open comes, at which point the curtains draw to a close and we’re allowed to step backstage to get water and snacks.

Soon enough, though, we’re being called back out. Alice and I nod at each other as we take our seats, and I close my eyes, breathing. It feels weird to say that I’m nervous when my only responsibility is to flip pieces of paper. But it’s nerve-racking to be faced with this many people.

Imagine my surprise when the curtain is pulled back after Principal Kurt gives a rousing speech on the importance of arts and music (which earns a silent scoff and head shake from Mr. Lawson) and I see all the seats are filled, with some kids and parents left standing since they came in late.

Immediately, I can pick Leah and Cal out of the crowd, and they both smile at me, Cal taking a picture.

I smile back, but my eyes wander, looking for someone else.