Page 90 of The Lookback

My eyes must be wide as I put the car in park.

“Or something less intense,” he says. “But I really don’t want to waste time, and that means I need to be where you are, and where you are is here.”

“Where I need to be is picking up Emery.” I hop out, but I duck back down so he can hear me. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”

But he’s already climbing out. “I’d like to see the theater again.”

I can’t deny him the chance to revisit. I’ve seen it countless times since he left, and I never fail to think about the plays we did together. EspeciallyThe King and I.

“Did you really like me back then?” Tommy’s hand is braced against the top of the car, but his eyes are on mine.

“I was going to tell you,” I say, “but I heard you shouting at Jed, telling him we were only friends.” I close my eyes and inhale. “I felt really stupid after that.”

He laughs. “I can’t believe how much I sacrificed back then.”

“You were a good friend to Jed,” I say.

“Forget that idiot. I did it for you,” he says. “Because it’s what you wanted. I knew he was all you wanted.”

We were both stupid. I can’t help thinking about all of that again as we walk in through the side door of the theater.

Emery’s not supposed to have practice, but she’s on stage, reading out her lines as Belle, Scrooge’s fiancée. “Oh, Ebeneezer, I have no money.” She sighs. “But can you love me anyway? Can you love me as I am?”

Young Scrooge is played by the boy she likes—she told me when she was cast. He’s suitably handsome, and I’m distracted enough that I don’t even think about the fact that the rehearsal is, in fact, happening, when it’s supposed to be cancelled.

“That’s not what you say,” the boy says. “You got the line wrong, I think.”

“But it sounds better,” Emery insists. “The lines they gave me were so blocky.” She looks pained.

“You can’t change the lines,” the boy says. “You have to read what the script says.”

“Who says we can’t?” a woman holding a large bowl asks. “Mr. Hammerly isn’t even here.”

A half dozen other kids weigh in, but none of them can agree.

“Are you supposed to be practicing?” I finally ask. “Emery’s mother told me to pick her up.”

“If we can’t even get the first act done before Thanksgiving,” Emery says, “there’s no way we’ll be able to do this play.” She’s frowning. “We need to find someone to substitute for Mr. Hammerly until he’s better.”

“I could step in until he’s back,” Tommy shouts.

“Who’s that?” Emery shields her eyes against the stage lights. “Eddy?”

Tommy strides down the aisle toward the stage, his shoulders square, his head held high. Within a few moments, he’s completely taken over. No one is squabbling. No one is lost. He’s making decisions, cleaning up dialogue, and the kids are excited and animated.

“Who is that?” the principal asks.

I startle a bit. “Oh, Tommy’s an old friend of mine. He’s in town for a bit. He owns a farm down south of town, but he was planning to sell it. Now I’m not sure.”

“Does he have a theater background?” Principal Miller narrows her eyes. “He looks competent.”

“He’s directed a lot of community plays,” I say. “And he used to direct plays in this theater when we were in school. Under the direction of our theater director, of course.”

Principal Miller smiles. “Think he’d be willing to stick around long enough to get this one done?”

“I doubt it.” Because if he sticks around until Christmas, I’m doomed. “But maybe he can do it until Mr. Hammerly comes back.”

“Mr. Hammerly had a stroke,” Principal Miller says. “He’s not coming back for a while.”

---