Page 12 of The Lookback

Jed looks a little uncomfortable when he says, “Does he have enough guns and elephants for transporting them?”

“I don’t think they have elephants in America, Your Majesty,” I say.

The children all laugh. It irritates Jed, I think, but Mrs. Rasmussen claps. “That was wonderful. You’re a natural at this, Jedediah. You have a sort of grumpy energy that really works for King Mongkut. It’s why I chose you for the understudy. Keep channeling that sense of indignation, just as you have been, and you’ll be perfect.”

Jed smiles, then. Everyone loves to be praised, I think, but Jed more than most. All of his parents’ attention always went to Clyde. I don’t think I realized quite how starved for affection he was until this moment.

Not that I pity him. He’s the one ignoring me. But now, when he reads his next line, I see his attendance here for what it is. Hope that he’ll get some recognition for once. “No elephants in America?” He sounds horrified.

“None.” I shrug.

“No wonder he’s not winning.” Jed sighs like it’s the saddest thing he’s heard, not to have an army full of elephants for gun hauling and whatever else elephants do in war.

We run through the scene a few times, and he gets better each time, playing on and expanding the things he gets right. A part of me wishes Tommy could just bow out now. A few more practices like this, and maybe. . .

But the second Mrs. Rasmussen dismisses us, Jed shuts down, like a light that’s electricity has been cut off. He just goes dark.

“You did great today,” I say, trying to get him to look at me again.

He shoves his script in his bag and loops around me.

“Jed,” I say. “Wait.”

But he doesn’t. He’s out the door and swinging a leg up over his bike seat before I can even grab his arm.

Tommy’s waiting by my bike, already holding my bag—his backpack on front and mine on his back. “Give it time. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“You’re not a thousand years old.” I huff. “You don’t know how long it took.”

He’s laughing as he hops on his ancient bike and takes off, creaking and squeaking along behind me.

“You should stop taking me to my house,” I say. “It’s way out of the way for you.”

“I don’t mind,” Tommy says, breathing a little heavy. “My mom would kill me if I didn’t.”

“If you didn’t,” I counter, “Jed might actually take me home. He lives next door, remember?”

“And if he doesn’t step up, you’d have to go all the way alone, which I won’t risk.” Tommy said the same thing every single day of rehearsals, and although Jed did get better and better about looking at me and saying the proper lines during practice, he didn’t soften at all after Mrs. Rasmussen dismissed us.

Until the day we practiced the scene where someone calls King Mongkut a barbarian. On that day, after seeing how the king’s unable to admit when he’s wrong, how both of them have to pretend he’s right when he’s not, I’ve had about enough of Jed acting like I don’t exist when we’re not reading lines. He may be playing a prince, but he certainly isn’t one in real life.

The second Mrs. Rasmussen dismisses us, I leap in front of him and grab his bag. I’m out the door and almost to his bike when he finally calls my name.

“Amanda!”

“Mandy, that’s not yours,” Tommy says, as if he thinks I don’t know whose bag I’m stealing. He’s always been a great liar. It’s why he’s great at acting and directing.

“Wait, isn’t it?” I turn toward Tommy. “Yeah, I think it’s mine for sure.” I sling the straps over my shoulders. “Now, let’s go home. I have homework to do. And we have that big test in English tomorrow. I need to finish studying.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Jed’s fuming.

“Unless.” I freeze. “Did you want toguesswho else’s bag it might be, Tommy?”

He’s suppressing a smile, which is classic. “I thinkyouought to guess, Your Majesty.”

“That’s enough,” Jed says. “Give me my bag.”

“Did you hear something?” I ask. “It almost sounded like someone was talking to me, but that can’t be. There’s no one here whodoestalk to me.”

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