Page 51 of Kissing is the Easy Part
I try reading the document she handed to me. Her lips are drawn tight, her shoulders stiff. I pick up my pen and tap the end against her forearm. “Hey, are you going to forgive me? I can’t read with this much hostility aimed at me. Don’t be mad. Please?”
“Fine.” A long pause, then she exhales a quiet laugh. “Stop it.”
Thank god. We’re stuck working on this for three weeks, and I’d rather not spend all of them fighting.
“But,” she warns, “you can’t laugh at my suggestions or make me feel stupid again.”
“I promise.”
She snaps the textbook shut and leans in. “Okay, then. I have an awesome idea about our presentation.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“We should do a play.”
“Aplay?”
A smug smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah, like a skit. Something immersive.We can dramatize a year in medieval times, with characters like a peasant, a noble, or Crusaders, and show how our lives were shaped by the period. The plights we faced. The social structure. How famine, plague, and war impacted us. Depends on which angle we want to emphasize.”
Is this the back cover of an RPG game, minus the quest to locate hidden treasures and conquer the seven seas? I stall, scrambling for a rejection that doesn’t sound like one. “I don’t know? Mr. Goleman doesn’t strike me as someone with a sense of humor. I seriously doubt he’ll go for it.”
“I’m not about to stand up there for fifteen minutes reading from a paper and boring everyone to death.”
“Can I at least think it over?”
“Think of it like advertising. Same product, better packaging. A play lets us weave in tons of historical facts. It’s way more engaging than PowerPoint. Imagine if TV commercials were just slideshows. People need to visualize things, you know?”
“Unless I’m selling a medieval castle here, I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
She glares at me. Then a dangerous gleam enters her eyes. “Wait, I have an even better idea. You play the knight, and I’ll be the girl who mysteriously falls from the sky.”
My mouth drops open. “What mysterious girl?”
“I’m from the modern world, but one day—bam!—I get sucked into a portal and land in medieval times. Time travel is so hot right now.”
This is spiraling into a full-blown nightmare. “Oh, perfect. Maybe we can even fall in love, and you’ll throw away your entire life to stay with me,” I say dryly. “We’ll feast on soup-stew and rye bread for the rest of eternity.”
Flora claps her hands. “Yes! Like that old Meg Ryan film. We have to add this. And Josie can be the all-knowing narrator—this prophet or priest as the voice of reason. She’s perfect for this role.” She scribblestime travel movieon her notes and underlines it three times.
I drop my forehead into my palms. “I just can’t win with you, can I?”
* * *
A week later, Flora emails me the script with the title “Meeting Pre-reads.” When we meet again in the library, she hands me a printout. “Josie emailed me her suggestions, and I’ve incorporated her input in this updated version. I trust you’ve had time to read it over?”
I have. Flora’s idea isn’t half bad. The plot is solid, equal parts educational and ridiculous, and while I don’t want to boost her ego any further, I can’t keep the smile off my face as she tosses me my updated lines.
“‘I’m clean, I’ve been tested for the plague’?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Tell me you’re not enjoying this.”
“Totally. A knight trapped in a Hallmark movie, riding a paper horse and reciting medieval pickup lines? My lifelong dream.”
She chuckles, and I melt at the sound of her laugh. I’d forgotten how fun it was when we weren’t at each other’s throats.
“And you’re much better at organizing meetings,” I admit. “That first one I called, that was a disaster. That was on me.”
“Right?” She elbows me. “As my mom says, you must start with a clear agenda and end with a concrete action plan. Watch and learn, young grasshopper.”
