Page 42 of Reaching Avery
Chapter Eleven
Maverick
Nothing made me second-guess my life decisions more than when I was standing in a pair of crotch-hugging pants and picking out a wig backstage.
I mean, it was for my Gaston role, but still.
None of the outfits were ready yet, but the theater department had a big wardrobe area, and Sarah and I were back there that Tuesday after school, trying to take inventory of what costumes we had and which ones we’d need to have made and altered for the production. Mr. Lee hadn’t made us do it; we’d volunteered.
“These pants are riding up my butt,” I said to Sarah, shuffling around and trying to get the feel of them.
Sarah laughed and gave me a once-over. “They look great to me.”
“Quit undressing me with your eyes.” I playfully turned my body from her. “I feel violated.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Tight Crotch McGee, we need to go through the last two racks of clothes.”
About twenty minutes later, we’d gone through all the clothes and made notes and suggestions before going back onto the stage where Mr. Lee and the other members of the cast were sitting. I’d also stripped out of those demon pants.
Mr. Lee had the scripts ready to give out, and he gave each of us one.
Peter, the diva extraordinaire, smirked at me as I sat down and grabbed my script.
“No hard feelings I hope,” he said in a voice that rang of haughtiness. “Not everyone can be a star.”
“You’re right,” Sarah said before I could respond. “Not everyone can be a star, Peter, but you know what? Mav is the freaking universe, and you’re just jealous that no matter how bright you are—or think you are—you’ll never compare to him. Not with that attitude and cattiness.”
I smiled at her, grateful and sort of awed that she’d defended me. I could stick up for myself, but it was still nice to have a friend who cared so much.
Peter didn’t say anything. Instead he scoffed and focused on his script, but his cheeks reddened.
We didn’t really do much that day. It was more just a meeting to hand out scripts and for Mr. Lee to tell us a little more about the plan for the upcoming months. The band had received the sheet music for the songs and was beginning practice, and the choir was doing the same, learning the background vocals for some of the bigger songs.
As other people talked and asked questions, I found myself thinking of Avery.
Maybe he’d be interested in being part of the set design crew. Mr. Lee had said anyone who wanted to help could, but no one was obligated to. Extra credit would be giving to those who did, though. Grades were given out based on participation in class and activities.
I’d bring it up to him the next time we talked.
And that thought of course reminded me that Avery and I hadn’t really talked at all that week. The only talking we’d done had been the random greeting before class or a smile from across the room.
I’d believed we were starting to become actual friends, but then he’d slipped back into his somewhat aloof self again, as if the time we’d spent together hadn’t happened.
Other than his appearance—because yeah, I was crazy attracted to him—I was also drawn to him for another reason. He seemed broken. Well, maybe not fully broken, but damaged in some way. Like the world had beat him up so much that he’d started believing he deserved it. That he’d accepted the fact things wouldn’t get better.
I didn’t know him well enough to be so transfixed by him, and yet, I was. The rare instances when I’d gotten him to smile, I’d seen a different side to Avery. One who, if only for a split second, forgot about whatever issues weighed him down and let himself be free of it. To smile because he was happy and not just to put a face on for the people around him.
Then, the shadows would creep back into his eyes, and the glimpse of happiness would fade away.
That’swhy he called to me so much. That broken side of him that I saw reflected in his face at times. The one that caused him to angle his body inward, as if he were always on edge and expecting someone to hurt him.
I wanted to fix him—to help. But maybe, he didn’t need to be fixed. And maybe I couldn’t even if I tried.
As if reading my mind, Sarah said, “I wonder what Avery’s doing tonight. It was fun hanging out with him the last time.” The meeting had ended and we were leaving the auditorium and walking outside. “He seems so introverted, doesn’t he? When we went out, he didn’t really say much about himself.”
“Not everyone is so open,” I said. “I get the impression he isn’t used to having a social life. So maybe he’s just not sure how to act, ya know?”
“Probably.” She looped arms with me as we walked to the student parking lot. “He’s cute.”
