Page 25 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
Rhett didn’t take it. He only looked at it. “That’s okay. You can write me the tardy.”
A murmur swept over the class. No one had challenged Mr. Gervis’s policy this early in the semester.
“It’s not a choice,” Mr. Gervis said. “You’ll do it, or you’ll find a different elective. I believe beginning ceramics has an opening this period.”
Rhett coughed. “Can I do one I already have memorized?”
Mr. Gervis put his hat away and gestured to the stage. “Certainly. Take it away, Mr. Hawker.”
Rhett shrugged and vaulted himself up instead of taking the stairs. He turned to the audience but looked out slightly above us and cleared his throat. “Hey, old man. You home tonight?” he asked, and it sounded like a prayer. Because it was.Cool Hand Lukewith Paul Newman, the monologue in the church. I recognized it right away. As Rhett delivered Luke’s lines to God, his volume didn’t range much, but his intensity did perfect justice to one of my favorite movie scenes. When he finished the final line, “I guess I’m pretty tough to deal with, huh? A hard case? I guess I gotta find my own way,” the class erupted in applause over his interpretation. His small nod showed that he appreciated the clapping. I wondered why he had it memorized. Maybe he’d done drama up in Chicago.
He didn’t seem the type, but what did I know about him?
Nothing.
What did I want to know about him?
A much more complicated question.
He took a seat to the far side of the auditorium and Mr. Gervis smiled at him before outlining the tasks for the hour. The costuming and set design teams didn’t need to play audience today, so Mr. Gervis dismissed us to go backstage and called up the actors for improv activities.
In the design studio, I lifted what I now thought of as Livvie’s skirt out of my cubby—the one made of the green corduroy I’d liberated from Delphine’s stash—and smoothed it out on my desk. I liked the shape and feel of it, and I went to work pinning it and cutting it out. It didn’t demand as much concentration as pattern-making, and my mind wandered to the stage. Would Rhett be game for the goofy direction improv sometimes took?
After another ten minutes, I couldn’t resist peeking. Most of the behind-the-scenes people like me were already watching from the wings, which wasn’t normal on an improv day. I guessed they wanted to see him in action, too. He sat at the edge of the stage while Kristen Comeaux and Jake Zachary improvised a scene where he snatched her purse only to discover that it housed her precious twin ferrets. Waves of giggles rolled over the small audience.
I moved slightly left for a better view of Rhett, but it distracted him, and his eyes locked with mine. He tilted his head, waiting. I jerked back out of sight, embarrassed to be caught looking. Except hiding when he caught me staring was even lamer. I leaned out again. He was still staring.
I’m sorry about lunch, I mouthed.
At this, he shrugged and nodded. Mr. Gervis shot him a glance then followed Rhett’s gaze to me. He held up his hand to signal Jake to stop as he attempted to return Kristen’s ferrets. “Excellent as usual, Mr. Zachary. Take your seats. In an effort to help them concentrate, our next scene will be performed by Mr. Hawker and Miss Landry.”
I froze, and Rhett winced like he’d just bitten into something nasty. He climbed to his feet and crossed the few feet to my hiding spot behind the curtain. “Lucky us,” he whispered. “Don’t freak out. I’ll think of something.” He slipped his hand around my wrist, and I stared down at it. It might as well have been a manacle dragging me to the stage until he squeezed lightly, and warmth crept up my whole arm. “Don’t worry, I got it,” he said, tugging me forward. Something about his expression told me that even though he’d seemed at ease delivering his monologue, he also understood the fear that paralyzed me.
“Miss Landry? I’m waiting,” Mr. Gervis said, not a trace of sympathy in his voice.
But Rhett’s eyes brimmed with it, so when he tugged slightly harder, I followed him, my stomach sloshing somewhere around my kneecaps. I made it to center stage and stood there, trapped by the curious stares of the class and Rhett’s hold on my wrist. I knew drama kids were a more supportive audience than an average room full of seniors, but I didn’t feel better.
“Go,” Mr. Gervis said.
I had no idea what to do, so I stood still and said nothing. Rhett held up my arm and shook it gently. “This is my best puppet yet,” he said. That met with a swell of soft chuckles from the class. “So lifelike,” he said, as he straightened my arm and turned it back and forth. I tingled where he touched me, because I was that much of a cliché.
When he let go, I dropped my arm like a dead weight, the way a puppet would without any tension on the strings.
He moved behind me, his hands a few inches above my shoulders, fingers spread as if he held the control bar for a marionette. “Let’s see what you can do, princess.”
When he lifted his right hand slightly, mine rose with it, following its string up. He raised my other hand, giving it a gentle wave. I made my wrist stiff, zig-zagging from side to side like it had no joint.
“What can the legs do?” he wondered. He extended his hands further past my shoulders so I could see each action, then made an upward tugging motion. I kicked up my foot on the same side and dropped it when his hand fell.
I could feel the warmth of his chest against my back even though we weren’t touching.
His left hand rose, and my leg followed it, higher than the right one this time.
The smell of his soap tickled my nose.
He pretended to release the controls. “Can she curtsy?” he asked, circling me again. For the brief moment his back was to the audience, his eyebrow crooked in question, and I gave him a double blink to signal that yes, the puppet could curtsy. It hardly felt like me. There was nowhere I could have imagined dreading more than center stage, but Rhett made it okay.
When he resumed his puppeteer stance behind me, he lifted his hands and did some elaborate finger wiggling. I dropped into a curtsy and someone whooped. Rhett “pulled” me back up, and I stood there with my hands half-raised, waiting for his next command.
