Summer Unscripted Read online

  I’m lost. Weren’t we just admiring his hotness?

  Ella sees my look of confusion and leans over the table, lowering her voice. “I think Annette’s dating a restaurant guy, which means it could be him.”

  “Or not.” I shrug. “If you don’t know, he’s fair game.”

  “Nope.” Ella shakes her head violently. “If there’s even a chance Annette did or does have a thing with him, he’s not an option. The sister code is even stronger than the friend code, and you don’t share boys with your friends.”

  Okay, that makes no sense because—

  “You theater kids all date each other,” I remind her.

  “We hook up with each other,” Ella clarifies. “It’s just sharing tongue space. You don’t really get together with someone your friend was really with. That’s bad form.”

  Huh. I can’t tell if Ella is warning me away from Milo, or saying we’re friends despite her blackmailing ways, or just making conversation.

  “However, Cory is mine for the sake of Who Wouldja.” Ella gives me a huge smile. “Guess you’re stuck with Beret Guy.”

  I decide to play along. It’s more fun that way.

  “Ugh.” I slump overdramatically. “You know his songs will all be super emo.”

  “I bet he smokes skinny cigarettes.”

  “He’ll call me by his mother’s name.”

  “He wears socks to bed. And leg warmers.”

  “He sits down to pee.”

  Ella bursts out laughing—“Lazy!”—which makes me laugh along with her.

  “Deal breakers.” I compose myself and lean across the table, making my face serious. “Also, Beret Guy weeps after sex.”

  That remark sends Ella into another gale of laughter. I look around the restaurant to make sure we’re not disturbing other diners. A new customer is walking in. He’s tall and lanky with shaggy black hair and a concert T-shirt from an old British punk band. I reach over to flick Ella on the arm. “Dibs,” I tell her.

  Ella follows my gaze and, just like that, her smile drops away. “Interesting.”

  “What?” I take a second look at the guy, which is when I realize he undeniably reminds me of someone.

  Milo.

  I don’t know what that means, but it can’t be right. It can’t be good.

  “Nothing.” Ella averts her eyes. “I thought you liked blonds, that’s all.”

  All the good humor washes away from our table, leaving us in an awkward silence that goes on far too long. I’m thankful when Annette returns to drop our check on the table. “See, what’d I tell you? Thirty percent off.”

  I pull out a credit card and toss it onto the paper as Ella digs through her purse for bills.

  “Split it?” Annette asks, and we both nod. She takes it and trots back toward the front of the restaurant.

  Cory arrives at our table again. He takes our cups and napkins, and after he disappears into the kitchen, I look back at Ella. “He’s really cute. I think you won the game.”

  Even though I’m confused about the nature of the war currently being waged, my words are an offering of peace. But Ella doesn’t seem to realize that.

  “Yep.” She doesn’t even look at me. “I’m a winner.”

  We’re into the second week of rehearsals. I now know Zeus! from start to finish, beginning with Leda’s dance and ending with the Greek-Trojan battle in which Achilles is killed by Paris and Paris is killed by Zeus. This theater thing must be growing on me, because I find my heartstrings tugging when Milo falls and then again when the lightning bolt hits Tuck. When Tuck crumples, Pollux runs out and catches him as he “dies,” lowering his body to the ground before standing to deliver a stirring monologue about the travesties of war. Then the entire cast emerges from the right wing and trudges across the stage while singing a mournful dirge.

  It’s a very dramatic ending.

  On principle, I’m still irritated by Ella’s blackmailing me to stay. In practice, however…I’m getting used to being around her.

  The Tuesday before our first tech rehearsal, we all end up at McKay’s again. I was hoping Tuck would be there (preferably without Gretchen), but when Ella and I take a reconnaissance lap around the place, he’s nowhere to be seen. We grab a booth and order the McKay’s special to split: a toasted croissant, cut in half and filled with two scoops of vanilla ice cream, then drizzled with hot fudge and topped with a cherry. Our waiter places it between us, giving Ella the chance to yet again practice her new skill. I time her, and she spits the tied stem into her hand at exactly fifty seconds. “I should get a prize,” she tells me.

  “You’re going to get a boyfriend.” I motion to the booth across the aisle from us, where a guy we don’t know is watching her performance. He shoots Ella a thumbs-up, and I burst out laughing.

  A second later, Milo plops down beside Ella. “What’s so funny?”

  My insides light up with no warning, but Milo obviously doesn’t have the same effect on Ella. She abruptly stops laughing, dropping her spoon with a clatter. “Gotta pee.”

  Milo immediately slides out of the booth, springing to his feet. “Hey, if this is girls-only time, I don’t need to stick around—”

  “Nope.” Ella cuts him off as she also slides out. “I think I might play some darts, after all. Feel free to stay, have some chocolate. My roommate and my ex hanging out—it’s just what every girl wants.” She says it like a joke, but I don’t think she finds it funny. “Stop. Stay. Seriously.”

  Milo looks startled, and after Ella stalks away, he hesitates before sitting back down. “Do you want to go after her, or…?”

  “No.” I say it automatically, and then, after a second, I realize it’s the truth. I don’t need to chase after Ella just because she’s having an inscrutable hissy fit. I’d rather hang out with Milo.

  However, I really—like, really—need to find out what happened between them. In general Ella’s overdramatic, so I’m sure it was something that normal humans wouldn’t even consider a bad thing. But I want to know, just in case.

  In case of what…I don’t know.

  Milo sits across from me. He picks up Ella’s discarded spoon and looks at it for a moment before setting it down. “That would be gross, right?”

  “Give it.” I hold out my hand so that Milo can place the handle of the spoon into it, and then I wipe off the ladle part with my napkin. “There you go.”

  We both ignore the fact that he used to put his tongue in Ella’s mouth, so using her spoon shouldn’t be that big a deal.

  “You are a dream.” Milo accepts it and takes a bite of ice cream, apparently not noticing the way my cheeks go hot at his offhanded compliment. “So what do you think of Zeus! these days?”

  The job is insane, my life is a mess, and I make no sense whatsoever. But, sure, let’s talk about the ancient Greek musical drama.

  “When I was a kid, I had this book of Greek myths. I remember the one about the guy who flew too close to the sun and the story about Pandora’s box.” I scrunch up my nose, thinking through what bugs me about our play. “But Zeus!…I guess I’m confused about our Zeus. About how he’s written.”

  “You mean, because he’s supposed to be this big god hero, but then he smites Paris?” Milo gives me a sympathetic smile. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

  “Yeah. It’s like he turns out to be a villain, but only accidentally. And the way Hugh struts around onstage, it’s like Zeus doesn’t even know he’s the villain of the story.”

  “To be fair, that’s the deal with villains.” Milo leans across the table. “The best ones—like those who are written in the most complex, interesting ways—they never know they are villains. They have their own reasons for their behavior.”

  I find myself nodding along. “They justify their choices.”

  “Right. Because otherwise they’re just happenstances of plot.”

  I fold my arms and sit back in my seat, thinking about it. “The best villains are like real people. Wh
en they make a bad choice, they don’t always know they’re making a bad choice.”

  Like me choosing to come to Olympus, chasing Tuck.

  “Exactly.” Milo points at me with his (Ella’s) spoon. “The very best villains have some redeeming quality about them. Something that makes them three-dimensional.”

  “Something that makes them human.”

  “Right.” Milo grins at me. His grin—and there’s really no other way to put this—it’s breathtaking. “No one is ever all good or all bad.”

  I stare at him across the table, and then I shake my head and take another bite. Having fleeting lustful thoughts about Ella’s ex-boyfriend is all bad.

  It’s all kinds of bad.

  •••

  When Ella and I step into our dark apartment, we’re both startled to find Annette in the living room. She’s on the couch, talking in a soft voice into her phone. When we walk in, she jerks to her feet before heading into her room. Ella turns to look at me. “Twenty bucks says it’s the busboy.”

  “Cute Cory?” I smile at Ella. “Well, one of the Reynolds sisters should get him, that’s for sure.”

  Several minutes later, Ella and I are in our beds. Moonlight glows between the bent mini-blinds, striping across my comforter. I squirm, trying to get comfortable, before I ask the question that’s been weighing on me for days. “So what’s the deal with you and Milo?”

  There’s a silence, during which I wonder if I shouldn’t have asked the question. Then I hear Ella shift in her bed. “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t have any friends here.” I didn’t realize how pathetic that would sound until the words hit the air.

  “Hul-lo.” It sounds like she’s saying it with a smile, but I can’t be sure. “I’m in the room.”

  “Um…and blackmailing me.” But I say it lightly so she won’t take the words too seriously. “Really, Milo is so nice. What gives?”

  “Sure, Milo can be nice. He can also be…not nice.”

  “Like how?”

  A long moment passes, and then I have to strain to hear Ella’s voice. “He cheated on me.”

  “What?” I bolt upright in my bed. That can’t be true. It doesn’t sound like the Milo I know.

  Except…I don’t really know him, do I?

  “I know, right?” I hear shuffling from Ella’s side of the room and see her silhouette rise in front of the window. She’s sitting up too. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

  Suddenly, Ella’s attitude makes a little more sense.

  “We started dating near the end of last summer,” Ella continues. “It was still pretty new when Mandy went to a party and saw him hooking up with one of the dancers. I wasn’t allowed to go to parties last year, and I thought maybe Mandy got it wrong, but then I started asking around. It turned out he was hooking up with two dancers. Not at the same time. Two different dancers, two different parties.”

  My heart drops. What Milo said was true: the best villains don’t know they’re villains. It’s too much to explain to Ella, so all I say is “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. If he had just broken up with me like a normal person, it would have been bad enough, but instead I have to hear about it from Mandy while she’s giving me a bottle of green body paint. Milo and I never even had The Talk. We just kind of…fizzled.”

  “You didn’t get a real ending.”

  “It was…”

  I finish the sentence so she doesn’t have to. “Embarrassing.”

  “Yeah. People started avoiding my eyes. Milo was the asshole, but it was like I got punished for it.” She settles back into her bed. “It’s fine for you to be friends with him. I just thought…you should know.”

  I’m glad she told me, but I hate having heard it. I don’t want Milo to be a villain. I want him to be one of the good guys.

  As I slide back onto my pillow, a thought flashes through my brain. One I shouldn’t ask.

  “I didn’t have sex with him.” It’s like Ella read my mind. “I haven’t…ever.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Are you kidding?” Across the room, Ella props herself up on one elbow, facing my bed. “You’re a virgin?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Should I take her surprise as a compliment or an insult?

  “Oh, it’s just…” She trails off. The moment goes on so long that I have to prod her.

  “Just what?”

  “You and your little gang of three. You have, like, this all-access pass to every social event somehow. You go to all the parties.”

  It rubs me the wrong way. “Just because I go to parties doesn’t mean I’m having sex at them.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just thought…you and Marin and Sarah seem older or something. Like you’ve got more going on. I assumed you’d have more experience.”

  Marin and Sarah have more going on: plans, ambition, a future. Me, though—I’m like a human skipping stone, splashing across life’s surface, going after one thing and then another. Sure, I might make a lot of ripples, but they always disappear.

  “Who do you think I would have slept with? I never hang out with the same guy for very long.”

  I never do the same anything for very long.

  “That doesn’t always matter.”

  “I know, but it does for me.” I try to untangle the reasons why. “I don’t want to do it just to do it, you know? If it’s not right.”

  This time the pause is long enough that I wonder if Ella’s fallen asleep. “But how are we supposed to know when something’s right?”

  “Are we still talking about sex?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m clearly the wrong person to ask.” It’s late enough and I’m tired enough that the truth is coming out. “Just about every decision I make is the wrong one.”

  Ella shifts in her bed. “Maybe you’re not as wrong as you think you are.”

  Maybe you don’t know me well enough to say that.

  I pull my comforter up to my chin and nestle into it, beginning to drift off. As I do, the last thing that occurs to me is that this conversation has made things clearer. I need to stop letting myself get distracted by Milo. I didn’t come here for him.

  I came for Tuck.

  Ella tells me that cue-to-cue rehearsal is the worst, and she’s not wrong. For endless hours, we start and stop the show so that the light people and the sound people and the set people and the fire people can all get their crap together.

  The most annoying scene is the one I hate the most anyway: when Paris sails across the Aegean Sea so Helen can fall in love with him. The “sea” is made of giant strips of multihued blue canvas. Those of us who are lowly cogs in the vast machine of Zeus!—we hold the ends of the canvas strips and wave them up and down to make “waves.” Paris and his army traipse between them as we pull the cloth across and off the stage, so it looks like the army has arrived on dry land, simulating their landing in Greece. The first million times we attempt this scene, the lights have to be adjusted because Del doesn’t like their colors or focus or something. Finally, the lighting people get that part down—by then my arms are killing me because that stupid canvas is heavy—and I run backstage to green up for the war-prep scene. Except that when we return to the stage, looking like many, many human-sized Statues of Liberty, Del isn’t ready for us. So I have the supreme pleasure of sitting beside Ella in the front row of the amphitheater while, over and over and over again, Paris strides into a garden to see Helen for the first time.

  Helen is sitting on a rock, chilling with her friends, when Paris arrives to be wowed by her beauty. He lets us know this by pressing his hand to his heart and saying a bunch of extremely poetic things. Helen starts to ask, “Who are—”

  But then Eros shoots her with an arrow of love. “—youuuuu?” She finishes the question in a trill because, thanks to the arrow, she’s now hopelessly and eternally smitten with Paris.

  It doesn’t seem so difficult, but Gretchen cannot get her timing right. The love
arrow is not a real arrow at all but a stage effect. There’s a twang-zing sound, and a light beam hits Helen in the boob, which means that she needs to be in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time, and it’s just not happening. The few times she does get it right, either the sound tech or the light tech misses the cue. Rehearsal of this scene goes on forever, and the whole time I’m aware of Milo sitting in the row behind us.

  I’ve managed to avoid him all day. He waved at me this morning, but I pretended not to see him. Later, as Ella and I were walking out of the dressing room, he came up to us. “I think I owe you a McKay’s special,” he said to Ella. “I ended up eating most of your half last night.”

  “It’s fine.” She shrugged and walked off.

  He looked at me. “I tried, right?”

  “Whatever.” The word came out of my mouth exactly as chilly as I intended it to be, and I immediately followed Ella as she strode away.

  But not before I saw the flash of hurt on Milo’s face.

  Now, sitting in the first row of the amphitheater, I’m way too aware that he’s there, probably wondering what happened between last night and this morning to make me treat him like this.

  Or—what do I know?—maybe he hasn’t given me a second thought. He wouldn’t be the first boy here to barely notice me.

  I’m considering turning around, maybe just to make eye contact, when everyone stands and I register that finally—finally—stupid Gretchen has gotten her stupid cue right three times in a row and we can move on to the next scene. So maybe later.

  Except later never comes.

  •••

  The used-book store on Nine Muses Street is small but well stocked—at least the mythology section is. I find a tattered copy of the book I had as a child, plus a newer, slim one that seems to be a family tree of Greek gods and goddesses.

  Finding a section of the shop devoted to theater is more difficult, and it takes me a while to locate the most appropriate book: Theatre for Dumdums. I wonder if the author is a dumdum or if it’s supposed to be a joke, since that’s not even how you spell “theater.” But since beggars can’t be choosers, I buy all three books. If I can learn the language here, maybe I’ll understand the people who speak it. Maybe I’ll find a way to connect with Tuck.