Page 113 of Just Ten Seconds

My breath catches a little. Dean has been doing a great job of avoiding me. He drops Amanda off at the front of the theater and then comes after hours to work on the set. If he’s here, it means he assumed I’d already left.

“Have a good night then.” I start to walk away, knowing that my being here will cause him distress and that’s the last thing I want to do.

Amanda doesn’t say good-bye. She only picks at her cast and tosses more on the floor. I look at her with a tilt to my head. This is unlike her. She’s usually so jovial and inviting.

“What’s the matter, Amanda? And please don’t tell me nothing because your cast is starting to look like someone took a bite out of it. Talk to me. What’s up?”

She looks back at me and gives a grimace. “I hate my stupid cast. It makes me fall all over the place. It itches and smells. The kids are starting to make fun of me. It’s distracting me, and I can’t think of my lines.”

I nod my head. “It does stink,” I say and then add, “Not your cast. I’ve never noticed a smell. I mean, the situation. It really stinks. You have every right to be upset.”

She looks up with a quirk of her brow. “Really? Everyone else says to get over it and grow up and stop being a baby.”

I walk closer, putting my arms on the top of the stage as I look up at her. “I’m not gonna say any of those things because it would only negate your feelings, and I think what you’re feeling is valid.”

“What does that mean?” she asks.

I want to laugh at her innocence. She’s only eight, but sometimes, I forget.

I rest my chin in my hand and look at her. She looks so much like her mother with her deep brown hair, but when she glances at you, it’s with her father’s eyes.

“Do you remember the day your dad carried you into the café? You were hurting and in pain.”

She nods her head. “You were really nice.”

“Because I knew you needed help. That cast”—I point to it—“should never be looked at as something you hate. It’s healing you. You broke a bone, and it’s magically being put back together. How awesome is that?”

“I still hate it. I can’t dance, and I’m going to fall in front of everyone on opening night.”

“You’re not, and you know why?”

She looks up at me in wonder of what I’m about to say.

“Because despite that cast, you still got a lead role in a play where third graders never get roles. You weren’t going to audition, but I wouldn’t let you give up. You practiced and nailed the role. If you could be Flounder with a broken arm, imagine what roles you’ll get when you’re completely healed.”

Her head sways to the side. Her hand no longer picking at her frayed cast. “I guess. But what about my lines?”

“You’ll just practice some more. There’s time,” I explain. “And if you fall onstage, don’t worry. The play is about being under the sea. You can just pretend you meant to do it and swim across the stage.”

My joke gets me a giggle from her.

She looks up at me and gives a shrug. “I’m scared.”

With my hand on her knee, I tell her, “The best things in life are scary. But when you overcome it, you’re gonna feel like the star of the show. You’ll be so happy, I promise.”

She smiles, her tiny body dancing a little in her seat. “Do you want to go over the lines with me? Just for the one scene at the beginning.”

I put my tote on the floor of the stage and lift my butt up, so I can sit next to her. “I’d be honored.”

As I take the script out of the tote and sift through to find the scene she’s talking about, I hear a noise behind us. Dean is kneeling by a coral reef display, using a screwdriver to set it in place.

I swallow and hold up the script, asking if it’s okay. I know he’s not crazy about me, but I hope he doesn’t mind me working with Amanda outside of the set theater rehearsal hours.

He gives a nod, and it makes me smile. He has no idea how much his approval means to me even if it’s for this small moment with his daughter.

“Who peed in your Cheerios?” Mr. Kenner asks as I pour him his morning coffee while balancing an empty tray with my other hand.

“Um, no one,” I say.