Between You & Me (2 page)

The moment you step out onstage, people start forming an impression of you. Just as you're already forming an impression of me.

She looks at each of us with crystal-cool blue eyes, the warmest cool you've ever seen, like water in the sun.

MIA

And you're already telling me something about yourselves.

Self-conscious, I swallow and ease back in my chair so as not to seem too keen. She sees me, and asks my name. “Phyre” sounds louder than I expected, embarrassingly so, like flames are leaping and I'm the first to notice. She smiles.

MIA

Phyre here seems ready to learn something new.

She looks at Ryan, rocked back on his chair, his arms folded across his chest. She gestures for his name, which he volunteers with emphasis.

MIA

Ryan, it seems, thinks he might have better things to do!

People laugh. She crosses her arms like him and, embarrassed, he tips back farther, then flails with that falling sensation and comes back onto four legs with a bump. He blushes and looks at the floor. He clearly thinks she's hot, which is probably why he's trying to play it cool. She lightens up.

MIA

Maybe he just wants us to think he has better things to do. Either way, physical life is a key element when creating a character onstage.

Mia walks between the desks, crisp and perfect, her white shirt tucked seamlessly into a high-waisted navy skirt. My shirt is lily pink with white pinstripes that flutter as I look at them. Compared to her, I look like I slept in my shirt, then rolled to school. She adjusts her collar as she passes me. I smell something sweet like lavender.

MIA

So! Let's get to know each other.

She slides back onto her desk, crossing slim ankles that swing gently as she picks up the class list, pressing her pen tip to the first name. I glance quickly around the room. Everyone else seems the same as ever. Elle, in the first row, pouting under blond bangs, is arranging the ribbon at the waist of her yellow top. She always looks glazed but usually turns out to have been listening, and—case in point—her hand goes up when Mia calls her name. Eva, beside her, the picture of concentration, perfects her hair clips for her turn. She has a prissy expression but I think it's the natural arrangement for her face. Mia is looking up brightly to memorize each of us. Kate meets her gaze attentively. Good at everything and intimidating in the chameleon-like way she fits into every group, Kate somehow manages to seem equally interested in everything.

Mia calls my name. She already knows who I am but for some reason my heart picks up pace when she looks at me.

MIA

Phyre.
Great name!

—Rhetorical maybe but here's my chance to shine graciously. Still thinking … something clever on the tip of my tongue … and she's moved on! I turn to see you smiling at me. I can't hide much from you, which is a mixed blessing, but I'm usually never tongue-tied, so I guess you've noticed. I glare at you halfheartedly as Mia calls your name. You return her nod warmly and for the second time today I see how comfortable you're getting with everyone.

Bella, amid a circle of boys behind me, raises a hand for her name. She's “hot,” honey-hued curly hair loosely pinned up, looking casually perfect with no apparent effort, as if she spent no time achieving
perfectness
. To make matters worse: she's nice. Ryan, next to her, has regained his confidence and is whipping Tony with his ruler. Most people think Ryan's good-looking, which makes him even less bearable—and, worse still, he
is
, so there are grounds to be cocky. I see glimmers in his eyes of the true him, someone real and scared, and then I like him for a second, until he speaks. Tony catches my eye again. At first glance he veers toward scruffy but I think he's effortfully disheveled. I've seen him look quite neat until he sees his reflection and tugs his shirt out of his pants. He'd be better off if he didn't traipse around after Ryan, so that's probably his greatest flaw, but then high school compromises people's abilities to think for themselves.

Cara brings me back with her cheerful greeting when Mia calls her name. Her greatest talent is to seem impervious to peer pressure, which means she is—she's on her own raft of cool. Reaching the end of the list, Mia sets it down beside her.

MIA

First things first! To be real, you have to know yourself and your reactions. We're looking for truth, and to find truth we need trust. That's where we'll start. Trust.

She looks around the room and smiles conspiratorially.

We need space. Follow me!

And as she hops off the desk, I glimpse someone who's not just an adult suspended in circumstance but a person, with a childhood, a life, her own reality. She isn't hiding. We can see her figure, the way she moves.

The sun is warm, bathing the playing fields in golden light. There is grass beneath our feet, and the smell of wet leaves.
We felt rebellious stealing through the deserted halls during class. Mia claps her hands together, more with excitement than authority. Her shirt still has the perfect unrumpled tuck even when she pushes up her sleeves, the white fabric luminescent in the light.

MIA

Okay. Pair up and spread out in two lines facing each other.

We pair up with a glance and you head to one side of the field as I go to the other. Squinting in the glow of sun, I can see the fuzzy haze of my own eyelashes. Mia gestures to my row, calling across the grass.

MIA

This side, close your eyes, and run toward your partner.

I hear some laughs ring out but she's serious, so I close my eyes tentatively, my eyelids flickering. It's hard to close your eyes when you're so awake. I'm in a world of her voice.

MIA

Give yourself to the moment. Feel the ground under your feet. You can't think about falling. Just think about running.

With just the pinkish black of my eyelids to look at, everything moves slower. I take a step. My mind puts bars around me that root me to the spot. There's nothing near, I tell myself, not even a shadow, and I can hear your voice calling. So with my eyes squeezed tight shut, I run. Really run! My other senses feel stronger. I hear my name alone on the sound waves. Sometimes the ground falls away, and I stumble but stay on my feet and keep running. I must look like a crazed three-year-old, my steps short and knees so high. Your voice gets closer and closer until I feel the jarring of your hands on my shoulders and open my eyes to see you and, beside you, Mia.

MIA

Good, Phyre.
Excellent!

This is where it starts, the very beginning.

We're in town, in Peele's,
The coffee shop on the corner
, as it says in reverse lettering on the glass beside us. School ended a few hours ago but I didn't feel like going home. We're at our favorite window table, peering out into the street. It's warm and cozy in here; outside, the street looks steeped in blue. I
can smell autumn in the air and I'm wearing a scarf for the first time this fall. I tug my pink cuffs over my hands and wrap my palms around my mug, sliding an elbow across the copper tabletop so I can get a better view, beneath
corner
, of Elle and Jen crossing the street. You take a sip of hot chocolate and run your fingers through your sun-lightened hair, a gesture I'd know a mile away.

YOU

Summer has changed people, don't you think? This year feels different—

A figure sweeps by the window, a figure I recognize.

ME

There's Mia!

I'm sure that's her, in the plum-colored jacket with the collar turned up. Something in me wants her to turn and see me but as I rub away the mist from my breath on the window that separates us from the world, she disappears into the bookstore on the corner. I could go after her, casually bump into her. It's strangely tempting, the idea of seeing her in this world beyond school. I turn to say so but the waitress appears with my smiling pumpkin cookie, and my chance is lost.

My cookie stares up at me, its smile mocking me. One of its icing-eyes was smudged in the making and it looks like
it's winking. I pick it off and suck the icing from my finger. You're talking about who's already got together this year. I watch you stir your hot chocolate and do the same. It's starting to feel too warm in here and I'm grateful for the cool air that spills in each time the door swings open. You catch my eye and smile, reviving my attempts to give you my full attention. It's a good thing I didn't go tearing down the street after Mia. I sit back in my seat, trying to feel glad I stayed, but my eyes flitter back and forth till the light begins to fade and the glass starts to show a reflection of myself.

In the crisp air, Peele's glowing windows behind us, I can't help glancing hopefully into the bookstore. It's been nearly an hour but something still stops me from walking straight past. I swing around the awning in the doorway for a better look and the perfect excuse comes to me.

ME

Did you see the reading list for English? There are a couple of things I don't have. Wanna take a look?

I try for an indifferent nod toward the bookstore and you smile obligingly and follow me in without seeming to give it a thought.

We walk the shelves at the perimeter of the store but I don't see even a glimpse of Mia's plum-clad figure.
Get a grip, Phyre
. I shake myself. She wouldn't still be here, she has better things to do than live in the bookstore! I scoop up a few books as my interest in pretending to shop vanishes and head straight to the register. You meander behind, flicking through books, actually interested, actually in the moment. I wish I didn't feel as strangely distracted as I have all day. You reach the counter and buy something—from the glimpse I get, not a school text, but a book on cinema, which is weird; it's more my thing. We head back into the evening air.