The Truth About Fragile Things (6 page)

“W
rong again.
You forgot the line about the green thickets.” Phillip leaned against the cinder block hallway, a battered script in his hands. There was no better class than drama for upperclassmen. Mrs. Schatz let us wander the hallways next to the theater to practice our scenes. As long as we are students she trusts who deliver on performance days, the time is largely unsupervised. When I didn’t respond fast enough he rolled his script and hit me on the arm, making a few classmates turn from their scenes to watch us. “What’s your deal?”

“No deal. I just forgot it. Start again. I’ll get it.” I bent so far over my lines that my hair made a black veil to hide the way my lips refused to relax. They are always the first thing to give me away. “I didn’t sleep well,” I added. Even though I had stayed asleep, I spent every minute of my dreams negotiating with Charlotte, begging her not tell everyone. By the time morning crawled into my bedroom it found me pink-eyed and exhausted.

Instead of reciting his line, Phillip scooted across the wide white hall until he reached my hand and took it in his. “Is that weird girl still bugging you? You hid all day yesterday.”

“I don’t have to hide anymore.” I rubbed my red pencil across my paper, watching the crimson streaks gather on top of the black words. “She found me.” I told him how Charlotte had turned up on my doorstep.

“Crazy freshman stalked you to your house?” He turned around as if he expected her to be sneaking up behind us.

“Her name is Charlotte and she didn’t stalk me. She found me. She came to forgive me.” I couldn’t look at him when I said that.

“Forgive you for what? You don’t even know her!”

We’d known each other for over five years and I’d never told him about Bryon. How does one bring that up in conversation? How do you apologize for not bringing it up? A trio of sophomores came into the hall to block a scene and I grabbed Phillip’s hand. “I’ll talk to you inside.” I led him to the stage doors. “Tell Mrs. Schatz that Phillip and I are practicing on stage if she can’t find us,” I told the girls. They agreed before we disappeared, their eyes wide with curiosity, probably from imagining all sorts of carnal activity happening in the empty theater. The heavy doors slammed behind us and my eyes adjusted from the fluorescent hallway to the darkness of backstage.

“I have to tell you something important. Something secret I’ve never told anyone,” I said to Phillip as he slid up a dimmer switch, lighting the wings. The curtains were open so I made my way to the edge of the stage and sat with my feet swinging over the void of the orchestra pit.

He dropped his voice to mock my serious tone as he settled beside me. “What? Did you kill someone?”

Tears popped instantly, blossomed over my lower lids. My voice sounded barren in the silent, echoing room. “Yes.”

Phil stuttered over whatever word he planned to say. I knew I couldn’t leave him holding the impossible weight of my answer so I just kept going. “When I was two I was almost hit by a car. Except a man saw it coming and pushed me out of the way. He died.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked. And I saw exactly what I’d always feared. His eyes flickered as they flashed from shock to appraisal. There is only one way people look at you when they find out your life came at such a price. They want to judge if you are worth it.

I pulled my knees tight against me to still the shaking. “His name was Bryon Exby. He was Charlotte’s dad.”

“Stalker Charlotte? The freaky one? Her dad saved you?”

“Not stalker! Like I said, she came to forgive me.”

Phil’s face was half hidden in shadows but I could tell he was searching for the right words. What a horrible burden, to make someone feel like they have to say the right thing. “Forgive you?” he shook his head, noticed my shaking chin. “It wasn’t your fault,” he reassured me.

“Sort of was. I stepped into the street. Bryon wouldn’t have had to save me if I had stayed where I was supposed to.”

“You were two.” He calibrated his voice to make my argument sound ridiculous. No matter how many people pointed out that fact, it flooded me with relief every time. Phil slid to my side and wrapped his arm tight and warm around my shoulder. I leaned into him, grateful for the gesture. The still air was thick with the scent of sawdust and truth. Phillip’s voice filled the dark room, floating up to the high ceiling. “I’m glad he did—save you.”

I turned to him in the shadows so he could see my surprised smile. “That is really nice.” And because he put on his most sincere and humble face I couldn’t help adding, “Sometimes I think I should date you.”

“Just say the word,” he joked. But it was always a joke, for both of us. He was so much more backup than boyfriend. A safe place to flirt, a safe place to fall. A batting cage for love, but never the ninth inning.

“I could kiss you now to see how it goes,” he said, his face bending over mine, his eyebrows raised in jest.

“Opportunist.” I elbowed him away. “Maybe when I’m a little more desperate.”

“Hard to imagine,” he argued.

“Sadly, that’s true.” I wound my hair into a knot and stabbed my pencil through it. A few dark strands sprung free. “I told her I would help her do something.”

As I explained about the list a strange smile played across his wide lips that annoyed me. As soon as I finished I crossed my arms against my chest. “What?”

“You’re pretty,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Idiot. You would flirt with an extension cord. You were supposed to be listening about the list. What do you think?”

“I think it’s awesome. I’m in.”

My mouth opened in confusion. “You can’t be in. It’s just for us. Charlotte and me.”

“Have you ever been whitewater rafting?” he asked. “How exactly did you plan to tackle that one? Seriously Megan, you backpacking?”

“I … have you been whitewater rafting?” I asked.

Stages do strange things to people. He looked mysterious in the thin light. “Yes. And trust me, you would,” he studied me with a doubtful smile, “need a little help.”

“I really can’t stand you sometimes.”

His laughter bounced over the curving walls. I looked across the empty, red seats and imagined the ghosts of every audience staring at us, leaning forward, ready for the next act.

I
didn’t see
Charlotte again until the next day when her cafeteria tray landed on the table in front of me. I think she planned it to startle me because she approached from behind and let it fall with an unnecessarily loud clatter that sent a few french fries flying.

Her eyes were steady and strong, piercing me when I spun around. Phillip looked up from his homework and I knew he was thinking too many things to decide on any one to say.

“So where do you think we start?” she asked. My classmates looked to me for an explanation and I was afraid she was going to keep talking in that loud voice.
Since you killed my dad should we go on a campout this weekend?

I shuddered and lowered my voice, hoping she’d follow suit. “Let’s eat outside.” I didn’t wait to see if she followed me, but when I stood I sensed Phillip, almost like a bodyguard. I headed into the courtyard, grabbing a spot on the hard packed dirt under a scrubby tree.

“What’s
he
doing?” she asked as soon as she reached me.

“He’s…” As soon as I started speaking Phillip gave me a smile calculated to annoy because translated into English it meant,
You can say anything you want. I’m not leaving
. I didn’t argue because I knew he was there for me, making sure nothing happened I couldn’t handle. “He’s sort of like a puppy that follows me around. Hard to get rid of. Just ignore him and throw scraps of food.”

Phillip laughed and I patted the ground next to me for Charlotte. She lowered herself without taking her hostile eyes off Phillip. She didn’t like him. Certainly didn’t trust him. “Is he your boyfriend?” she asked me while she stared straight into his face. He loved it. He flopped at our feet and took a bite of his hot dog.

“Yeah, Megan. Am I your boyfriend?”

“Shut up,” I advised him. “He is my friend and he is an insufferable flirt so don’t think any of it means anything,” I told Charlotte.

“I like the word insufferable,” he mumbled through his bite. “I’m going to use that in a sentence today.”

“Make him go away,” Charlotte ordered.

“If you knew him you’d know that I can’t. You get used to him. And besides, he’s the only one who knows. He wants to help us.”

Charlotte shot up, her food untouched. “I’m out,” she announced. “Forget it.”

Phillip caught her around one ankle. “Stop. Don’t go. I promise you’ll like me.”

I gave a wry laugh in spite of Charlotte’s scowl and the heat in my stomach. “That’s what he says to every girl,” I mumbled. I rearranged my expression into something more serious. “Charlotte, please stay. He will shut up now. He’ll only help when he’s useful. He knows how to raft and backpack.”

Charlotte kicked her foot, forcing him to let go and turned to both of us. “I can’t believe you told him. Are you laughing at me?” I saw both fear and fight in her eyes. If she thought we were mocking her she would kill us first and worry about it later.

“I swear we’re not,” I told her. “I am so sorry. He’s my friend and he is going to behave. Didn’t you ask me where I think we should start?”

Charlotte waffled, her weight tilting toward us and then away before she finally sat down, refusing to look at Phillip. “I want to know which one we should do first.”

“Do you have the list?” Phillip asked and she shot him a scalding glare.

“What?” he asked, looking to me to defend him.

“She has it memorized,” I told him. “Could you write it down for me?” I asked her.

“I did.” She pulled a piece of notebook paper from her pocket and I unfolded it on my lap. Phillip strained over my shoulder to study it.

“Definitely skinny dipping. Let’s go tonight,” he said with a wicked grin that didn’t shrink under Charlotte’s withering glare.

“I hope you dive in with piranhas,” I muttered. He mimed covering up his nether regions, but I refused to reward him with a laugh. “Phillip, if you don’t stop we’ll do everything without you.”

“Fine,” he relented. “You can’t raft now. It’s September. The water is too low. She could try out for the play. Too bad it’s not a musical. More parts,” he offered.

Charlotte’s eyes grew hard. “Who’d want to be in a play?”

“It says perform…”

“It never says in stupid play,” she interrupted me. “Are we in second grade?”

Phillip raised his heavy eyebrows. “Plays aren’t for little kids.”

“He was a lead role in our musical last year,” I said, not ready to admit my own place in the theater department. “And he was only a sophomore. He can coach you.”

“That’s supposed to convince me?” She snarled at Phil. “I wouldn’t go anywhere near him.”

Phillip pulled his lips into a dangerous smile. “Good. That way I don’t have to waste my time on a freshman. You’d never get a part no matter what I taught you.”

“Time out. I’m getting a twitch!” I called, pressing the corner of my eye.

“You have a big head,” Charlotte informed him.

“Don’t we know it!” I agreed. “But he can act. And we can help you.”

“Megan can show you how to be all hoity toity.”

“Watch it,” I warned him. “He means I’m in the drama department, too. We can help you together. I don’t know how else you’d perform. Do you play an instrument or something? Do you sing?”

Charlotte tried not to answer by growling a nondescript sound, but I refused to accept that. “Unless you have a better idea, the list says perform on a stage and by dumb luck, we both know how to do that, if you let us help you. Or you could do some interpretive dance for the school…”

“I’ll think about it.” Charlotte crossed her arms, warding off the reality of what we were saying.

“No. No thinking,” Phillip said. “Thinking too much is insufferable.” He shot me a smile. “See? I did it.”

Charlotte met his dark eyes, refused to smile as his buttery voice. “Stop talking to me like I like you. I think you’re a jerk.”

Phillip ripped off another bite of hotdog, his grin widening. “That doesn’t worry me at all. You, on the other hand, are kind of growing on me. You’re so sweet and all.”