Finding June (6 page)

“No green goop today?” I asked.

“Not today. Besides, berries have
antioxidants, which are good for your skin. We don’t want you to
show up to your first table read looking like your skin is made of
rice paper, now do we?” she asked. I instantly brought my hand up
to my cheek in horror and she realized her mistake. “You don’t have
rice paper skin Bliss. I’m just making sure it stays that way,” she
clarified.

“Thanks Gran,” I said with a grin. “Bottom’s
up!”

This drink pleasantly surprised me. Even
though Gran had called it a berry smoothie, I still expected it to
have some hidden green or brown thing in it. However, it was
actually pretty good, which made the drinking process much easier
than it had been with the green goop. I polished the drink off with
gusto and jumped out of my seat to show I was ready for the day. It
was hard to tell where my newfound energy had come from, but the
fact that I had a table read with Lukas Leighton in only two short
days may have had something to do with it.

Gran seemed ecstatic about my enthusiasm and
beckoned me into the living room, where she had lined the floor
with the silk Indian pillows that seemed to be coming out of every
corner of the house. “I thought we’d start off our workout today
with a little yoga,” she said, as she lit some incense in a stone
holder.

I feel that before I go on, I should point
out that my grandma is a bit of a hippie. She's completely
dedicated to the art of acting, of course, but her methods are a
bit . . . well . . . hippie-ish. Dad always called her a high-tech
hippie because she was all earthy and organic, but couldn’t go
anywhere without her smart phone. So, as I prepared myself for a
round of yoga that I was sure would kick my butt, I tried to ignore
the heavy perfume coming from the incense holder.

After a few minutes of "clearing my mind,"
(or at least clearing it of everything except a certain someone I
would be seeing again on Thursday) I arranged myself into my least
favorite pose: Garudasana, or the “Eagle Pose.” It wasn’t that this
pose was terribly difficult—for most people. Unfortunately, I
lacked a basic sense of balance, so to stand on one leg with my
other foot tucked behind my knee and my arms twisted like a pretzel
with no chance of catching myself if I fell . . . well, needless to
say, it was a pretty deadly combination. I stared intently at a
spot on the floor, trying to maintain my balance and actually
managing to clear my head—until Gran spoke.

“Now, June, I want to talk to you about your
shining new opportunity on
Forensic Faculty
,” she began,
instantly making me wary. “You’re going to be on set a lot—more
than a month, if you only do four episodes. You’ll have a studio
teacher on set for those days you’re filming for eight hours. But
just because you aren’t technically in school doesn’t mean you can
slack on your school work,” she said with a note of finality.

I tried to respond and reassure her, but even
thinking about speaking made me wobble in my current yoga stance.
Instead, I settled for a reassuring (though pained) smile in her
direction while I tried to ignore the bead of sweat running down
the side of my face. She took it as her cue to keep talking.

“I know I’ve never put much stock in school .
. . or at least I’ve never told you how important it is. I just
want to make sure you haven’t gotten the idea that I think school
isn’t important, Bliss,” she said from her position next to me.
Gran was simply amazing. She was obviously much older than me, (she
was my grandmother, after all) but she could hold a yoga pose
better than me. Probably better than anyone, really.

I finally managed to speak, feeling that this
one-sided conversation wasn’t going to reassure her. “Gran, I
promise I’m still going to get good grades. I’m not going to get
into BYU by batting my eyelashes at the admissions office,” I said,
causing me to lose my balance and fall into a heap on the floor.
Now I could see why the pillows were scattered everywhere. Gran had
taken precautions against my notorious clumsiness.

“Well, good. I just wanted to make sure we
were on the same page . . . And on that note, I wanted to mention
something else,” she started, though she quickly interrupted
herself by saying, “Natarajasana, Bliss,” indicating that I should
get into the "Lord of the Dance" pose. I did as I was told,
bringing my leg up behind my back and reaching back over my
shoulder to grab my foot. Needless to say, it was painful and very
unstable.

“I know you know this, but when you’re
actually in the thick of things it becomes easy to forget . . .
well . . . to forget what’s important,” she said seriously, easily
holding a "Tree Pose" as she spoke. “Just remember that being
around the same people in such a unique situation every day can
skew reality a bit. You grow close to people faster than you
normally would, and sometimes you think you have feelings that
aren’t really there.”

I dropped the foot I was holding behind my
head to turn to her. “Are you talking about Lukas Leighton?” I
asked, coming off a bit more defensively than I meant to.

“I know you’ve only met him once, but I can
see those stars in your eyes, Bliss. I just want you to be careful
and keep your real friends close,” she said, bring her hands up in
surrender, preventing any fight that could have started. “Whenever
you need a break from the limelight or a reality check, you should
give Joseph a call. He’s a very grounded young man.”

I sighed deeply and wiped my wet forehead
with the back of my hand. It was amazing that standing still could
be a workout. “I know, Gran. I’ll make sure I stay grounded,” I
told her. “It’s only a small part anyway; I don’t think you have
much to worry about.”

“You’d be surprised how much popularity can
come to a pretty girl like you from just a small part,” she warned,
making me wonder if I’d been a little naïve about what I was
getting into. “But I’m not trying to spoil this for you. I just
want to make sure you’re going into this whole thing with your eyes
opened.”

“Thanks Gran,” I said honestly, feeling that
if I had someone with her experience on my side, I’d be all
right.

“Well, that’s enough serious talk, Bliss.
While you do your aerobic workout, I’ll make you some grilled
salmon . . . it’s good for you hair,” she said with a smile, even
though she knew I hated fish.

“You know dark chocolate is loaded with
antioxidants,” I countered at her retreating form. “It was worth a
try,” I mumbled to the empty room.

CHAPTER 7

Wednesday came and went with lots of
stomachaches throughout my classes and Joseph constantly reassuring
me that I had this whole thing in the bag. By the time I woke up at
four o'clock a.m. on Thursday morning, I was ready to call it
quits. My stomach had been in knots all night, making it impossible
to sleep, and I already had four panic attacks and one minor
nervous breakdown in the time it took me to get ready. I didn’t
really know if I could handle this.

For the table read today, I chose my powder
blue knee-length sundress. It had ruffled cap sleeves and a V-neck
with a sash that tied around the back. I wore this dress whenever I
could because I loved the pattern. The entire dress was printed
with white flowers and red and yellow birds, making it look very
50s. I only wore mascara on my eyes today, to offset the red
lipstick I was wearing (I didn’t want to look like I had used a
spatula to put my makeup on). And my wild curls were pinned
strategically so that they piled up on the back of my head in a
mass of curly chaos.

I slipped on some powder blue ballet flats as
I ran out the door to meet Joseph outside. My table read wasn’t
until one, so I’d make it to most of my classes before Gran picked
me up at noon. That gave me approximately seven more hours worth of
nervous breakdowns and worst-case scenarios playing out in great
detail in my head.

Joseph stood outside of his car, looking as
comforting as ever, though his eyes were a bit red and tired. I
smiled guiltily at him. I’d texted him about a hundred times
throughout the night, unable to be left alone with my thoughts of
everything that could possibly go wrong today.

I walked up to him and gave him a tight hug,
scrunching my eyes closed in an attempt to make the outside world
disappear for a second. Now, don’t get me wrong. I was absolutely
thrilled to be going to my first table read for
Forensic
Faculty
, but the idea of being the newcomer in a room full of
seasoned veterans was completely and utterly terrifying.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said after Joseph and
I got into his car.

“Don’t worry about it, June,” he answered
warmly. “I’m your best friend. It’s my job to stay up until three
in the morning comforting you,” he remarked with a yawn.

“There are just so many ways I could screw
this up today,” I admitted. I knew this because I’d already made a
mental list of the various ways I’d make a fool out of myself.

“There are a lot more ways you could blow the
entire cast out of the water,” he countered matter-of-factly.

“Like what?” I asked skeptically. As a
general rule, it wasn’t nice to put someone on the spot when
they're trying to cheer you up, but I was scared out of my wits and
needed some reassurance.

“How about the fact that you look like a
perfect little silent film star?” he began, holding up his pointer
finger as he drove. “Or the fact that you’re by far the best
actress Mr. Carroll has ever seen,” he said, still counting. “Or
your very hip and awesome entourage.” I looked at him, puzzled for
a moment. “Me, June,” he said, as if I’d just blanked on what 1+1
equals.

“Oh, right!” I exclaimed, embarrassed by my
complete lack of comprehension this morning. “And what a supportive
entourage you are,” I commented with a grin. Joseph just glanced
over at me and scrunched up his nose like he always did when I made
a sarcastic remark.

“So, I know this is the last thing on your
mind right now, but I was just thinking about homecoming,” Joseph
said as we pulled into the gas station to get our hot
chocolate.

“That’s coming up soon, isn’t it?” I asked,
having forgotten all about it in the excitement lately. Homecoming
wasn’t really a big deal to me, mostly because it wasn’t like I had
some crush that I wanted to ask me. More than likely, Joseph and I
would go to homecoming together, stay for about five minutes before
realizing all of the music was horrible and it was just an excuse
for people to be . . . well . . . very close to each other (to put
it nicely), and then we would go back to my house and watch a
movie.

“We’re still going, right?” he asked,
glancing at me sideways a bit uneasily.

“Yeah, definitely . . . unless you wanted to
ask Xani to be your date,” I teased, poking him in the
shoulder.

“You got me,” he said sarcastically, getting
out of the car while I followed suit.

“She’s a cute girl—that's all I’m saying,” I
told him in a singsong voice as the bell above the gas station door
announced our entrance.

Hazel, a beautiful girl with skin the color
of cherry wood, stood behind the front counter, flipping through a
magazine. She smiled by way of a greeting as we walked in. She
always worked the early morning shift, so she’d quickly grown used
to Joseph and me stopping in every weekday at the crack of
dawn.

“I think I may pass on the hot chocolate
today,” I admitted to Joseph, watching while he filled up his
cardboard cup with steaming, too-rich hot chocolate.

“Knowing your stomach, that may be the best
idea,” he agreed with a nod. “I’ll just pay really fast and then
we’ll get this show on the road.”

I stood back by the hot chocolate machine
while Joseph paid for his drink. He talked avidly with Hazel about
whatever she was reading in her magazine. She said something that
made him laugh, and I couldn’t help but notice how his smile made
his eyes crinkle up in the corners. It was his squinty smile; my
favorite one. Joseph was just one of those people who was nice to
everyone he met—even crazy Xani, who always threw herself at
him.

Joseph began to walk toward the door, waving
for me to join him. As he stepped outside, he pulled his grey
button-up sweater tighter around him.

“Skinny tie not keeping you warm?” I asked
teasingly.

“For your information, all the best people
wear skinny ties,” he countered. “Harold Lloyd wore one.”

“Did Buster Keaton? Because if he did, then
I’d be convinced,” I said with a wink.

“Didn’t he wear bow ties? Maybe not . . . I
think I’m confusing my actors.” Joseph scratched his head in a
contemplative way, and we spent the rest of the drive to seminary
arguing over who was better between Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd.
What can I say? We were nerds.

After seminary, we actually managed to make
it out the door and in to zero period theatre on time. Mr. Carroll
wasn’t standing on the stage in his normal "lecturing" position
because he was giving us today to work on our skits. This
revelation gave me a small jolt as I realized we’d be performing
those skits tomorrow. I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to
handle having so much going on at once. We hadn’t even started
filming the show, but I already felt overwhelmed by school and my
new part.

Joseph and I resumed our practice in the
green room where we’d been rehearsing for the past two days—without
the kiss in the scene. Today, however, Joseph had brought our
actual bag of money and we were ready to pull out all the stops. Of
course when I say "actual bag of money," I mean, "actual pillowcase
stuffed with board game money." He plopped the sack down next to
him and began his pacing back and forth to start the scene off. I
tried my best to forget about all of the stress I’d been feeling
this past week and focus on the task at hand. After all, I had
promised Joseph I wouldn’t have some great performance on the show
and hang him out to dry on our skit.