Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) (13 page)

“I ordered those charms because my luck has gone bad,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. I ticked items off on my fingers. “Adam dumped me, I didn’t get a part in the one-act play, and I’ve been forced to rehearse with Berger, who, up until a week and a half ago, I couldn’t stand being around.” That came out easier than I expected. As long as I kept those things in list form, I could stay removed from any ache they might bring.

“I like Trey Berger,” my mom said. “He seems really nice.”

Good. She was getting distracted from their agenda. “I’m starting to like him too,” I said, “but my luck is still bad, and I need to do whatever I can to make it better.” I stared my father down. “That’s your philosophy, right, Dad? If a situation needs to be fixed, then fix it. Don’t wait for somebody else to do it for you.”

He frowned a little. “Yes, but that’s not what you’re doing. You bought things that you hope will fix the situation for you. They won’t. You need to figure out what will.”

I clamped my teeth together. Why did everyone think they knew what would help me better than I did? “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

Mom cleared her throat. “What your dad is trying to say is that sometimes people need help.” She gave him a look I couldn’t read. “And we’re here for you. If you want to talk. Or if you don’t want to talk. We’re still here.”

It suddenly felt like somebody was digging their fingers into my chest, about to rip my heart right out. And I couldn’t let that happen. I just couldn’t. I had to stay in control. My parents obviously loved me. And I loved them. But it felt like if I let go, let out all the anger and hurt and fear, it would pour out in a never-ending wave. The pain would never stop.

I was able to stop crying with Berger because I had to. With my parents, I didn’t have to. The tears could go on and on until I turned into a dried-up husk. And I was too afraid to see what life would look like after that.

“Thanks, Mom,” I finally said. “That’s good to know.”

My parents looked at me as if waiting for me to spill my guts. When I didn’t, my dad straightened in his chair. “Right. We’re going to start by making sure we eat dinner together at least three times a week.”

That didn’t sound too bad. Especially since I knew with his schedule, he wouldn’t be able to do it. He usually ate dinner with clients or he and mom attended committee meetings. It was a good week if we ate together even once. “That’ll be nice,” I said. Why not encourage him? It was never going to work.

“And we’re instituting a family get-together once every two weeks that Austin will have to show up for,” he said.

I almost laughed out loud. My brother was going to hate this. If, and that was a big if, my parents could actually get their act together and schedule it all. How could they possibly make a 180-degree change from the way our house had been running for years? I couldn’t see it happening.

And I hoped it failed miserably. “Okay, Dad,” I said.

Twenty-Four

Berger

In rehearsal the next afternoon, Mrs. Mac asked Lindsey to help with the scene blocking. So I sat on the floor in the wings doing my calculus homework. It was amazingly easy to ignore everybody on stage. Maybe I wasn’t really cut out for this theater crap after all.

After about twenty minutes, a pair of legs in tight jeans appeared in front of me. “You’re not paying attention,” Lindsey said.

“Should I be?” I put down my pencil and rolled my shoulders to loosen them up.

Lindsey grabbed a water bottle and took a long swig. “If you want to know how this is done, you should.”

“I watched blocking during rehearsals in October. Is it that much different now?”

“Every play is different,” she said, glancing over her shoulder toward the auditorium.

What was she looking at? “But the process is the same, right?”

She twisted the cap back onto the bottle and set it down. “I guess.” She walked nearer the stage and stared out at the seats.

Was she getting all depressed? Being involved in the scene blocking had made her look more alive than she had in a week. But now she was staring again. Maybe she was watching for somebody.

I got up and joined her. “Another coffee date?”

She flinched but didn’t turn to me. “How’d you know?”

“You look like you’re waiting for someone. Is it the football player again?”

“No.”

“Who then?”

“None of your business, Dragon Boy.”

I laughed. “I’m gonna find out in a few minutes anyway.”

She pursed her lips like she didn’t want to tell me, but then folded her arms across her chest. “Yes, you are.”

“Aw, come on. Is he gonna have to pass a test like the football player?”

Color drained from her face. “We’re starting up again.” She motioned vaguely toward the stage, where Mrs. Mac was talking to Mike and Parker, and no one looked like they were working at all. She strolled off toward them.

Liar. She didn’t want to talk about the test. Which clearly meant I was right. Whoever was coming would have to pass or not go out for coffee. But what could that test be?
Think, man, think.
What had happened before? When the football player had showed up, Lindsey stood right where I currently was and watched him. He’d walked down the aisle and then picked a seat. So what was the test?

And then it hit me. So hard that I almost took a step backward.

He’d picked the wrong seat!

Simple as that. And the right seat, of course, would be where Adam Castro used to sit!
Man, I’m a genius.
Ha. I wanted to laugh out loud. Lindsey was so into this luck thing that she probably thought it would be lucky for her if a guy sat there. I wished I could walk over and shake some sense into her.

She stood with Mrs. Mac, Mike, and Parker, but it didn’t really seem like she was listening to the conversation. She kept looking toward the auditorium, an almost bleak expression on her face. But when she turned back to the conversation, she put on a
happy as a lark
mask. Geez. This girl spent almost every waking moment acting.

What would it take for that happy face to be real? Probably only time. But maybe … maybe I could do something to help. Something that might help her be her old self again. Why I wanted to do that, I didn’t know. Her old self had been pretty hard to get along with. But that probably wouldn’t be an issue for us anymore—not now that we’d gotten to know each other better.

Maybe I could take her for coffee when her date ended up sitting in the wrong seat. Because that was inevitable. But I really didn’t have time to go get coffee. I needed to get home. Ashley was supposed to be there already with Nana, but she wouldn’t appreciate it if I was over an hour late.

Hell, the easiest thing would be to tell the guy where to sit. A laugh escaped my mouth, but no one noticed. I couldn’t even believe that thought had entered my mind. Getting a guy to sit in the right spot would be messed up. Right? It would make her think all her lucky charms were working, which was the last thing I wanted.

But it would also make her happy, which I did want. Before I could think any harder about it, I gathered up my calculus stuff and shoved it into my backpack. Then I headed for the stairs. I took the farthest aisle because it was mostly shadowed in darkness. I needed to make sure I got to the foyer without Lindsey seeing me. And that was going to be hard with her craning her neck toward the doors every minute.

My pulse quickened with my pace along the wall, but I froze when Lindsey looked out over the seats. In seconds, she had turned back again, and I moved on. This was like playing Red Light, Green Light
.
I move, she turns, I freeze.
After a couple more rounds, I was out the door and into the empty foyer.

What now? Through the windows, I scanned the parking lot until I spotted a likely candidate. He walked toward the theater building, hunched into his letter jacket like he was cold or something.
Wuss.
Who
was
that? Finally he got close enough to identify. And, no. Just no. It was the freaking golf team dude. Seriously? Why would she want to go out with him?

Forget it. I wouldn’t inflict him on my worst nightmare. Wait, my worst enemy. I needed to get out of there. I couldn’t even think straight. But halfway across the foyer, I stopped. Blew out a frustrated breath. Okay, he was a douche, but Lindsey needed some kind of confidence booster. And maybe
he
was that guy.

I went to the water fountain, pretending to drink while I waited for him to come in. The door opened and closed with a whoosh of cold air. The guy nodded at me and headed for the double doors into the auditorium, which would lead to the wrong aisle and the wrong seat.

It’s now or never.
“Hey, you here to meet Lindsey?”

He frowned. “Yeah.”

“Then you’ll want to go this way.” I angled my head at the doors closest to me.

“What?”

It was all I could do to keep from mimicking his irritated tone. “It’s just closer to the seats where”—
Where what?
Think!—
“where Lindsey left her stuff. So y’all can leave faster.” I had no idea where Lindsey had put her books and purse, but it was the best I could do.

He walked toward me. “Are you screwing with me?”

I could hear Ashley’s voice in my head:
Lose the self-satisfied smirk, Doodles.
I lifted my hands and worked to keep my expression friendly. “No, man. Just go that way.” I pointed at the doors. “Six rows from the front.”

He eyed me for a few more seconds. “Okay, whatever.” He pulled open one of the doors, and it shut behind him with a dull thump.

Well. I’d done it. Might be right up there with some of the stupidest things I’d ever done. But it was up to him now. I hadn’t told him an exact seat. That would’ve been too suspicious.

I went to the other double doors and opened them just a crack. Huh. He’d actually done what I said. Sixth row. Three seats from the aisle. Not exactly where Castro used to sit, but close enough. Now I’d see if Lindsey thought so. Or if I’d gotten the whole test wrong.

But nope. Lindsey turned and slowly walked to the edge of the stage. Even from the doors I could see she was smiling. She signaled for Golfer Dude to wait, then returned to Mrs. Mac. A few seconds later, she went into the wings. Obviously headed for the stairs.

I needed to either sneak down the side aisle nearest me to get backstage or hide somewhere out in the foyer. It would be seriously bad if she saw me. But I didn’t do either. For some reason, I couldn’t stop watching. Already wearing her coat, she walked up the aisle toward the guy, though
bounced
might be a better description. Her smile was huge, beaming with some inner glow. It didn’t hurt that she was standing directly under one of the lights.

Golfer Dude stood to meet her, and they talked for a sec, then started for the doors, staring at each other.
Holy moly
, she was gorgeous when she smiled like that. Something pinched in my chest, and I shook myself. Right. If I stayed here they would see me when they came into the foyer. But I was too far away to dash inside the restroom. So I waited until they’d pushed their doors open before entering the theater on my side, and moving quickly to the safety of the darkness.

The doors never reopened behind me. She probably hadn’t even noticed my door shutting. She was too busy gazing at Golfer Dude. I rubbed the back of my neck. I could only hope that I hadn’t made a huge mistake.

Twenty-Five

Lindsey

I opened my mouth to answer Nick’s question, but some machine gave out a loud, long grating noise. They must’ve been grinding beans. Nick smiled and sipped his coffee. He liked it black—which was so gross—but that was the only strike against him so far. This was the least boring he’d ever been. And I still couldn’t believe he’d sat so close to Adam’s old seat. Things felt like they were finally going to change.

The machine stopped, and it was back to the normal spoons clinking against mugs and rolling conversation that made up any coffee shop. But this one happened to be The Coffee Bar, which was owned by Berger’s parents. Were they here? I’d never met them before, but there wasn’t anyone of parental age behind the long bar where people sat on barstools drinking espresso and lattes.

“You were saying?” Nick asked.

I smiled. “Yeah, so this is the first time in a couple of years that I haven’t had a part in one of the plays. It feels really weird.”

“I bet.” He rested his arm on the table, gazing at me with those blue, blue eyes. “You know, sometimes when you don’t get what you really want it gives you a chance to try something new.”

How philosophical of him. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Ever tried golf before?”

He had to be kidding, right? He couldn’t possibly be talking about golf this soon in the conversation.

Nick laughed. “From your expression, I’ll take that as a no.”

“Weeellll.” I lifted my shoulders and tilted my head. “Golf is something that my parents have always done. And I’ve never wanted to be like them.” I grinned. “I rebelled kind of early, I guess.”

“Did you ever play
any
sports?”

I sipped my hot chocolate. “Just some soccer when I was little. I was happier putting on shows for my parents.”

“Oh, really?” He leaned a little closer. “Anything on video I could use for blackmail purposes?”

If he only knew. “There’s plenty recorded, but you’d be wasting your time. I was too adorable to be embarrassed by those videos.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled like he was really into me.

I hadn’t seen a look like that in what felt like forever, and I should’ve been excited, but for some reason it felt a little weird. Time to ask a few questions. “So have you ever played any other sports?”

He relaxed back into his seat. “Oh, sure. Soccer, of course, some tennis, but it didn’t take me long to get hooked on golf.”