Tommy comes and asks me just before the dress rehearsal to pick one of them. “Do you still want me to ‘get sick’?” He makes air quotes with his fingers. “Or no?”
I’m just choosing which one should play King Mongkut, but still, it feels meaningful in some way.
Tommy’s a better actor, but he’s done several plays. His parents won’t care much whether he does the performance or sits out. To Jed, this could change how everyone sees him—his mom, the other students, and maybe even himself. I also agreed to do this whole thing to try and mend the unhappiness between me and Jed.
I ignore the part of me that wants to perform with Tommy. “Yes, get sick so he can do it.”
Tommy stares at me calmly. “You’re sure that’s what you want, right?” His gaze is steady, his eyes intent.
“Right,” I say. “That’s always been the plan.”
“Do you think after the play, he’ll quit being so stupid? Do you think doing the whole thing will convince him to forgive you?”
“I think that the one time we really worked on theShall we Dancescene, Jed looked at me—actually looked at me.” I sigh. “I think if he’ll just let go of his anger, he’ll finally forgive me, yes. I don’t know whether the play will be enough, but I’d like to try. If nothing else, we’d be working together on something again.”
Tommy stands still, frozen for a moment, staring.
“I know you’re a better actor,” I say.
Tommy frowns.
“But Jed and I were friends for so long.” I sit down on the ground, my head leaning against the wall. “We played Monopoly every single day for like three summers. We helped each other with our chores. We studied together. He came to my rodeos, and I went to his basketball and football games and cheered.”
“We do those things now,” Tommy says. “Well, except for the Monopoly thing.”
I realize he’s right. He does come help with my chores. And he eats most meals with me—lately, anyway. He studies with me. He rides in rodeos too, but he usually does calf roping, while I do racing. “If he ever gets over himself, you’ll like him,” I say. “He’s funny and smart.”
His broad shoulders droop a little, but he says, “I’ll go tell him.”
I can’t help tiptoeing along behind him and peering around the corner when Tommy goes to tell Jed that he’s too sick to perform. Jed’s brow furrows when Tommy reaches him.
“Hey, man,” Tommy says. “We should talk.” He grabs his stomach.
Jed presses his lips together, his whole face pale. He looks like he’s upset, but what could have made him mad?
“Why?” Jed asks.
“I know I said I only needed you to be the understudy, but you know why we have understudies, right?”
Jed frowns.
“The thing is, this morning when I woke up, my throat?—”
Jed doubles over then and pukes all over Tommy’s shoes. When he straightens, he’s wiping his mouth.
“Are you. . .” Tommy backs up a little. “You’re sick?”
The groan Jed makes can’t be faked.
“Go home, right now.” Mrs. Rasmussen comes tearing around the corner, her eyes wide. She barely stops in time to avoid slipping on the puddle of bright orange puke. “Oh.” She throws her hand up over her mouth. “Get Nelson in here. Throw some shavings on it for now, and I’ll come sanitize it later. We’ve got to start if we’re going to have time for a full run through.”
Nelson, when he arrives, looks like he wants to cry.
I don’t really blame him.
“Well.” Tommy turns around. “I guess best-laid plans of mice and men and all that.”
Which is how, when the curtain goes up—or rather, with our little theater, when it slides to the side—I’m preparing to meet Tommy as King Mongkut, not Jed.