Being Hartley (25 page)

"Then, finally, finally, they cave," she continues her tale.
"They give me the crappy understudy role on
SMD
because I'm too good to say 'no' to. And you might think that sounds vain, but I'm the best dancer here, and everyone knows it. It's not vanity. It's the truth. I work harder than everyone else. I work longer than everyone else. I want it more. And, now, Rory wants out and I want in. It should be simple, right? A no-brainer. And then you…" she says, giving me the most vicious glare I've ever received in my life, "you come along. Nowhere near as good as me and pretty much self-taught," she spits these words, "and you get offered the job—
my
job—dancing beside Noah, who should be
my
partner. All because I don't have the right last name."

Silence.

We stare at each other, Mara and I, and as her speech sinks in, I think of Allie, who'd told me this much. Things weren't any easier for Mara than they were for her. And as much as I don't like her, I know what she's telling me is true and wrong and that there's even a part of me that feels sorry for her, despite her awfulness.

"Well?" Mara waits for my response.

But I don't have one. There's nothing to say to this, other than, "If it makes you feel any better, I turned the job down. And I'm not a Hartley. I'm a Wallis." They're the dumbest words that ever came out of my mouth, but right now, I just want to get rid of Mara and get out of here.

A look of disgust comes over Mara's face.
"I already know that, it doesn't make me feel any better, and the only thing you are is a half-brained Hartley idiot." And, with this, she leaves, brushing past me and hitting my shoulder as I go.

It takes me a minute or so to pull myself together after this, but when I recover, the first thing I do is step forward and press the down button on the elevator several times.
I have to get out of here in case Mara comes back with that Hartley Oscar Allie was talking about. I wouldn't put it past her. Still, she's wrong about one thing. Hartleys don't always get what they want. After all, very soon Noah will be in LA and I'll be…somewhere else.

Thankfully, the elevator dings again within a few seconds, and this time, there's no one inside.
I step in, close the doors again as fast as I can, and continue on my way downstairs.

-
29
-

When I get to the boardroom, it's been cleaned up and locked, and the best I can do is lean my forehead against the cool of the glass window and stare inside.
I'm not sure how long I stand there, staring and thinking, but it's long enough to calm me down from my Mara run-in. That is, until…

"Thea?" a male voice calls out from down the far end of the corridor.

I jump and bang my head against the glass. I hadn't even heard the elevator open and close. It's dark down there and I can't make out who it is. I think it might be Asher. "Asher?" I say. "Is that you?"

"Always with the Asher," the voice says, as its owner makes his way up the corridor.
It's not Asher after all—it's Noah.

I rub my forehead as I look at him.
"I'm not 'always with the Asher,'" I say. "I just couldn't see who it was, and you sounded like Asher. That's all."

"Fine then," Noah hmpfs, mumbling and grumbling something that sounds like it might end in "Asher Evans."

"Oh, get over yourself." I can't help but laugh at him. "Asher is really nice. He also makes a mean sundae. But he's not you, so I don't find him nearly as interesting."

Noah's face brightens at this.
"Well, if you put it that way…"

I grin at him.

"So I'm interesting?" he checks. "
And
I have hot hair?"

I narrow my eyes
, and Noah chuckles nervously. "So, enough about me. Um, surreal evening, huh?" He glances inside the boardroom. "You couldn't sleep either?"

I shake my head and stare back inside as well.
"It's so weird. To tell you the truth…" I start, but then trail off, embarrassed by what I'm thinking. I keep my eyes focused on the boardroom.

"What?" Noah touches me gently on the arm.

I try and get up the courage to say what I want to say. Somehow, I find it within me and glance over at Noah. "Well, Sonja just offered me everything I ever wanted tonight, and it feels like I'm rebelling against every cell in my body saying no to it all. But good at the same time, because it's not how I wanted it. Not at all."

Noah studies me for a moment or two.
"You actually look a bit shaken."

"Oh, no," I say quickly.
"That would be the other thing that happened. I ran into Mara on my way here."

"Ah," Noah says.

"Yes. She told me a thing or two about how the world works."

"That would be Mara's specialty." Noah chuckles, but then his expression gets more serious.
"Did she know about the job offer? And that you turned it down?"

I nod
, and Noah looks amazed. "I don't know how she finds out stuff, but she's good at it, I'll give her that."

"Probably Sonja herself," I shrug.
"I think they've got a lot in common, those two."

We eye each other, neither of us knowing what to say next, but most likely thinking the same thing, is my guess.
In the end, it's Noah who speaks first. "It's a shame…"

"What is?"

"That you, er…didn't take the job. That you couldn't." Noah shuffles his feet a bit and looks down at his hands. "It would have been good."

"What would have been good?" I know what he means, but I want him to say the words.

And, then, he does…

"Us."
He uses my word, gazing up from his feet then, right up into my eyes, and I realize suddenly that I haven't lost everything I ever wanted tonight. I haven't lost anything at all, because what I thought I wanted so much was only something I dreamed up in front of the TV and not based in any kind of reality.

"You know, from the very first time I danced with Rory, we had this connection.
It was so strong and always obvious—to us and to everyone else. And you know the whole world's been dying for us to get together forever. They have been for years. And Rory will always be one of my best friends, I just know it. But it was never like that. Never more than friendship."

"Oh," I say, not sure where Noah is going with this.

"I guess it turns out I was holding out for another Hartley. Or, like you told Sonja, not a Hartley at all, but a Wallis," he adds.

And then, before I can reply, Noah kisses me this time
, and I suddenly believe every single word he just said.

* * *

We head for LA early the next morning. As soon as we get back, Uncle Erik gets the family physician to give Rory a good once-over, and by the afternoon, we learn she's fine, though low in iron according to her blood tests, but that's an easy fix.

The following day, around lunchtime, Rory, Allie
, and I are lazing by the pool with a pitcher of iced tea and a fresh stack of magazines when Uncle Erik comes out with the cordless phone. "There's a call for you, Rory," he says, with a grin. "And I think you might want to take it."

"Is it Oprah?" Allie sits up in her lounger.
"Or is it just Asher?"

Uncle Erik gives her a look.
"No, it's not Oprah. Or Asher. It's Bunny."

Rory gets up and hurdles over Allie's lounger to take the cordless from him when she hears this.
For the first minute or so of their conversation, all we hear are "uh huh"s and "mmm"s and "Yes, of course that would be possible"s. And we might have heard something more after this if Allie hadn't gotten up and started dancing around her sibling like that annoying younger sister Rory thought she never had (think again), and she had to go inside.

"Good one, Allie," I tell her as Rory closes the glass door behind her.

"Sorry." She sulks her way back over to her lounger and slurps on her iced tea. "Do you know what she's calling about?" she asks her dad, who's taken Rory's seat.

But Uncle Erik just shrugs and keeps right on grinning.
"It's not for me to say. I'll leave it to Rory."

Instantly, I know it's really good news.
I get up from my lounge chair. Dad's out at a meeting, but Mom's here. "Mom!" I yell at the windows upstairs. "
Mom
!"

She's downstairs in a flash.
"Sit," I tell her, when she appears, pointing to the edge of my lounger. "We're waiting on good news."

So, the four of us wait, tapping our feet, watching the door, until Rory comes running out again.
When she does, she stops in front of us all and shakes her head. "I can't believe it. That Bunny is amazing. I'm out!"

I can't believe it either. "So they're just…letting you go?
No fuss?"

"I think it went above Sonja's head in the end, so no, no fuss.
I have to fulfill my commitments till the end of the summer season, but that's it. Which means only two more shows to shoot and one live appearance at a mall. Oh, and they're insisting on a farewell show as well. But that's all there is. Then I'm out!" She claps her hands together. "Out!"

"And Noah?" I ask.

Rory grimaces. "Mara will partner him until his contract ends. But I've asked him so many times and he says he truly doesn't mind. Mara's always nice to him."

We all sit in silence.
After the week we've had, it's almost too much to take in.

"So now what?" Allie is the first one of us to regain our senses.

This question seems to stop Rory in her happy tracks. "I don't know." Her hands fall by her sides and a look of confusion comes over her face. "I hadn't really thought this far."

My mom gets up from her lounger now.
"And that is exactly what we're going to see your new agent for this afternoon. Congratulations, sweetie." She goes over to give Rory a hug. "Welcome to your new life!"

The rest of us wake up to ourselves then and race over to shower Rory with hugs and kisses.

"I know the first thing you can do, jobless one." Allie pulls back from her hug, still holding one of her sister's arms.

"And what would that be?" Rory seems suspicious
, and I can't say I blame her.

Everyone waits for Allie's response.
"You can help me sort out my group's dance recital. It's two weeks from tomorrow, and we're a mess. Now that it's not all about you, I think it should be all about me."

We all laugh at this, including Rory.
"Well, you
have
just spent a week racing around after me, so I might be able to help you out. How about this weekend? Thea can help out as well."

"Sounds good," I agree.

"And I'm sure if Thea's helping, Noah could be persuaded to help out too," Rory says, raising an eyebrow suggestively at me.

* * *

As it turns out, Rory, Noah, and I have a fantastic time helping out Allie's group over the weekend. Asher, however, gives it a miss, saying he'd probably just make things worse (true enough). On Sunday afternoon, as the four of us are driving home (in our old friend Frank, the Prius!) and everyone's happy, there's a moment where I glance at Rory and realize how good it was to see her enjoying herself today. There's no part of Rory that's over dancing. She was only ever over
SMD
.

"Hey, look," Allie says, pointing out something as Rory brings the car into the drive.
"There's Asher. On the front steps."

"That's weird," Rory says, frowning.
"He said he was definitely coming over for pizza station tonight, but I thought he was busy this afternoon."

But as we get closer
, and Rory pulls the car up, we can all see everything isn't right with Asher, and by the way he races down the front steps, he's been waiting for us to arrive.

* * *

Asher hurries us inside the house. "I only heard about it an hour or so ago. I can't believe no one told you guys yet."

Rory grabs her cell out of her bag then and inspects it.
"I think they might have tried," she says, holding it up. "There's more than a few missed calls and texts here. We wouldn't have heard our cells over the music in the studio."

"What is it?" Noah says, keeping pace with Asher.
"What's going on?"

"Grab a laptop
, and I'll show you," he says, mysteriously.

Rory grabs her laptop, hands it to Asher
, and we all take a seat in the lounge on either side of him. Within seconds he's on YouTube searching for something. "Here it is," he says, bringing up a video.

"Hey," Allie says immediately, "that's…us."

She's right. It is us. From that first day in LA. From Allie's tap class.

"Wait.
What's it called?" Noah is staring at the title.

"The Other Other Hartley," Asher replies, as we all keep watching the travesty of tap playing out before us, not entirely understanding what's going on.

"But that's what they've been calling you, isn't it?" Noah looks over at me.

"No," I tell him.
"I'm the Other Hartley, remember?"

"Oh, right." We all return to the video again.

And then, as we watch it play out before us—as we watch how the footage of the tap class has been cut up—we start to realize exactly what's going on.