Smile for Me (A Young Adult Romance) Read online

  “Wel I’m not just going to write it for you. If that is what you’re getting at.”

  At this point I was fairly evenly split between anger and amusement. That paper was already finished and just waiting for me to hit print on my laptop. “I’m not getting at anything. You brought up history class.”

  “I just thought… wel why are you bringing me breakfasts than?”

  Why was she doing this to me? “I didn’t bring you breakfast today.” I bit out the words and walked away. Realy, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shouldn’t have to explain flirting—it definitely loses something in translation.

  I’m not sure you could exactly say I’ve been avoiding Kim, but I haven’t gone out of my way to speak to her either. Maybe I need to face the facts: Kim Penney is just exactly as dry as her boyfriend, Paul. I have always thought that underneath that uptight overly scholastic personality she was hiding someone happier and more fun. You know— a personality to match her great legs. It is possible that was wishful thinking.

  Kim Penney Fantasy of the day #1: Here is how this morning should have gone down.

  Kim would start walking faster the minute she could see me waiting for her. “Good morning Marshall!” I would get a great big smile out of her before she started to open the locker. Maybe she would even hug me. A hug sometimes follows a smile—doesn’t it? She’s tall, so if I pulled her close her face would fall even with my collar bone and I would feel her soft hair against my cheek. In my fantasy all her pretty hair is loose. I can definitely imagine her arms wrapping around my neck, and how her waist would curve under my hand… right, moving on.

  “What’s this?” I would ask as she hands me a white pastry bag.

  “Breakfast! I stopped for danishes. I thought I should bring you something for a change.”

  “Thank you.” And I would take a bite right away. I would not hurt her feelings by looking at her like she was trying to poison me.

  “Marshall? Could you help me with my history paper? I know you have probably had it finished for days. And I am sure it is A plus work, since you are the smartest guy in class.”

  “Of course Kim, I would be happy to. Why don’t you come by my house after school?” I will spare you the portion of the fantasy that happens when she shows up for the study date.

  Anyway, that isn’t what happened. So here I am, in the auditorium waiting for tryouts, making notes (for the behind the scenes piece I promised Mr. Bilings for the school paper), and pretending like I’m not waiting for Kim to walk in. Today is for students whose last names start between A and M. ‘Penney’ clearly fals under tomorrow’s N through Z category. I know she wil be here anyway; Kim doesn’t do things in half-measures. That is one of the things I like about her.

  When she does come in I pretend not to notice the very intense look she shoots my way as she walks to a seat in the front row. I cannot decide if that look was a little regretful or if that is just my admittedly over active imagination. She had, after al, accused me of trying to trade Pop-Tarts and coffee for ilegal homeworkassignments. She should feel some remorse.

  Chapter Four

  I don’t get nervous on stage—ever. I was a tree in the first grade when my elementary school did Goldilocks and the Three Bears for back-to-school night.

  I’ve been on stage ever since. I love it. So why is it that Kim Penney has the ability to make my palms go sweaty before one lousy audition? Why did I let myself look over at her at least 50 times during my 70 second monologue? I stil did fine, but not my best. It would be worth it if I thought for even one second that she noticed me looking at her, but even I can’t imagine that to be true.

  “Marshal! Wait! Marshal!” Dave and I are already halfway out the door before Kim’s voice turns me around.

  “Unbelievable, dude!” Dave hisses before jogging away.

  “Marshal!” Kim is a little out of breath when she reaches me. She is wearing this not at al sexy loose fitting white blouse that shows absolutely nothing, and it is driving me crazy. I swear I am not usualy like this, but she does things to my brain functions.

  “What can I do for you Kim?” I hope I sound like I am stil irritated from this morning.

  “No one was doing the right play.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The play! Everyone was just up there talking—I had no idea what about, and I learned the whole play!” I have never seen Kim even a little nervous. She is always cool and colected and ful of answers. Right now I am very afraid that Kim is going to burst into tears. “The whole play? You memorized al of Much Ado About Nothing?”

  “Wel, most of it! Didn’t you? What were talking about? ‘Brewster and Roosevelt’? I didn’t understand a word you were saying.”

  “You didn’t understand me, like you couldn’t hear me? Or like it wasn’t funny? It’s supposed to be very funny.” My heart is pounding more now at the idea that I’d blown my bit rather than at the sight of her trying to catch her breath.

  “Wel I suppose it was funny, but what does that have to do with Shakespeare?”

  “Not much, it’s from Arsenic and Old Lace. It’s a dry humor though—like Benedick.”

  “I don’t understand!” She is almost screaming now and al the color is gone from her face. I am very worried she is going to have a nervous breakdown and al I can think of is calming her down. What in the world am I going to do if she pukes in the halway?

  “Okay, let’s get you out of here.” I take that seven hundred pound bag off her back, (no wonder she was out of breath—who could run with this thing?) and slip one arm around her waist to steer her towards the parking lot.

  Her impending breakdown is obviously my first priority, but I am an excelent multi-tasker and an entire section of my brain is devoted to memorizing the feeling of light headed giddiness brought on by being this close to her. I take her directly to my truck. It is an old hand-me-down pick up from my uncle, but I love it. There isn’t a whole lot of room in the cab for her, me, and al her books, but I squeeze us in and turn the key in the ignition. Nothing. Nothing again. Then I remember—I decided not to stop for gas this morning because I was worried I’d miss Kim at her locker. I thought there would be enough to make it to the Shel station on the way home. Why does Dad never offer me the keys to his Corvette?

  “Oops. No gas.” I could not be more embarrassed. This never happens in my day dreams. Two years I have been waiting for Kim Penney to need something from me, and no gas!

  “There’s more room in my car anyway. I have a gas can in the trunk—we can come back for your truck.” She is totaly cool with my complete and utter failure as a man. That somehow makes it worse, but I am determined so I hurry back to the passenger door and help her out.

  “What about my books? I need my books.” She mumbles when I put her into the passage side of her own car. I swear she is in some kind of shock, but al my medical training comes from reruns of ER so I could be wrong.

  “We can get them later, when we come back for the truck.” Putting her car in drive I head towards the coffee house on Oleander St.

  My mom always offers people hot beverages when they’re upset. They serve their scones on doilies and have realy obnoxiously pink to-go cups here, but the coffee is good. Plus I have always thought it was kind of a date-ish place. And whatever, I know this is not a date, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.

  Inside, I find us a table in the corner and thankfuly Kim no longer looks like she is going to puke. We are sitting on opposite sides of the table, but it is one of those high top circular tables that are only designed for one or maybe two people so we are stil quite close together. I have to remind myself that this isn’t a date, because my imagination is begging me to fly into a Kim Penney Fantasy of the Day. When the waitress comes I order a tal coffee with milk and sugar and a chocolate chip muffin. Kim asks for some kind of berry tea and yogurt with granola. Even my grandma doesn’t consider yogurt and granola snack food.

  “Okay.” I say once she’
s started eating. “So you didn’t know what a monologue was?”

  “I looked it up!” She puls a memo pad out of her purse and starts reading. “A long speech by one actor in a play, or movie, or as part of a theatrical or broadcast program.”

  “Wel that is accurate.” I can’t help but chuckle at her.

  “This is not funny! I have to try out tomorrow. Now I’m not ready. What wil I do?” The color is draining away from her face again. I want so badly to pul her into a hug. Just to comfort her. I have no idea why she is so very upset, but I want to make it better.

  The inappropriateness and inherent uselessness of a hug are clear to me, so I hook my ankles around the legs of my stool to help keep my impulses in check and instead I just reach out and touch her hand. Just the tips of my fingers are covering hers but it is enough to quiet her mild hysterics. For just a moment we are both staring down at the table. Her hand looks tiny next to mine. Pale too, but not sickly pale just a pretty peach color that tels me she is probably serious about her sun block. Although, that would have been easy for me to guess even without the visual aid. Kim is serious about everything.

  “Okay, so you can do a monologue from Much Ado About Nothing there isn’t realy a rule against it. It’s gonna be fine.”

  “It isn’t a rule, but people don’t usualy do it?”

  “Wel no, usualy not.” I try to keep my expression light and casual. The truth is that reading from the actual script you are auditioning for is kind of a big no-no . “Patterson might not care though.”

  “I have to be in the play.” She stresses every word. She could just as easily have been saying I have to breathe in and out.

  “I can tel.” This makes no sense to me; what is with her and this play? She’d never even read it until last week. “So do you want me to help you get something else ready?”

  “There isn’t time!”

  “Calm down.” Kim is nearing hysterics again. I take this as a good excuse to curl my fingers under hers until I am more holding her hand than touching it.

  “There is time. This isn’t Broadway you know. Patterson doesn’t seem very difficult to please.”

  “Seem? Don’t you know? I thought you said you’d done this before?” Kim looks at me suspiciously. Unfortunately I can’t help laughing at her again. Al that single minded determination must create quite the tunnel vision if she isn’t even aware that Patterson is new.

  “I have. Lots. But Patterson in the new drama teacher. Miss Channing left at the end of last year.”

  “She was the old drama teacher?”

  I have beaten my laugh down to a wide smile by this point. I like that Kim is a bit of a mystery. I like that she surprises me sometimes. The best student in school and she has no idea who the drama teacher is despite her apparent new passion for theater. And what is with that anyway? “Please tel me why this is so important to you, Kim. If I don’t figure it out I won’t I’l be able to sleep tonight.”

  “I doubt that me or my interests have that kind of effect on your sleeping habits.” She moves to pul her hand free, but I apply a little pressure and keep it trapped beneath mine.

  “You would be very surprised.” I use my free hand to shove a piece of chocolate chip muffin into my mouth as a way to fil the awkward silence my admission created. Real slick Henries, I think to myself, she’s going to think/know you are a stalker.

  She is looking at me like I was speaking in Latin. I swear she goes out of her way to not understand when I’m making any kind of a pass at her.

  “Okay, so you need a new monologue—got any ideas?” I ask her trying to keep my voice light.

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be so close to freaking out right now.”

  If this is close I am not sure I want to witness an actual freak out. “Okay, wel do you have a favorite play?”

  “I liked this one.”

  “umm… other than this one?”

  “I don’t know; I am not big on plays.”

  “Then, why….” Kim is glaring at me, so I decide not to finish that question. “How about movies? What’s your favorite movie?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t watch TV.”

  “Who doesn’t watch TV?”

  “Me!” Oops. I think I insulted her.

  “Okay, not a big deal. I’l pick something for you. Were you thinking comedic, or dramatic?”

  “Sleeping Beauty.”

  “What?”

  “My favorite movie—Sleeping Beauty.” There is a pause while I process this information. “You look surprised.”

  “I am. Good surprised though. I am glad you have a little whimsy in your life, Kim Penney.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Cal me Kim Penney.”

  “Wel, it is your name.”

  She is almost smiling at me. Just a ghost of a curve is hanging out at the edge of her mouth. I am grinning from ear to ear. “Your name is Marshal Henries, but I bet most people leave off the Henries.”

  “I guess it is just how I think of you... Kim-Penney… I like your name, does it bother you?”

  “You say that like you think of me a lot . ”

  The last traces of her almost smile are gone now. Is the idea of me thinking about her so repulsive? “So, Sleeping Beauty?” I pul out my smart phone and fiddle around on the internet for a few minutes until I find something. “There is bit where she is talking to herself in the woods, about dreaming of a prince. It’s a little sugary for my taste, but Patterson wil eat that up.”

  “An owl.”

  I swear Kim Penney is never having the same conversation as I am. “What now?”

  “She isn’t talking to herself—she is talking to an owl. You can find that on your phone?”

  “Sure, a laptop would be more convenient though. Come on, let’s go. When we get to my place I’l look up it up and we’l get started.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “Kim Penney, you are the smartest girl I know. So I am going to let you figure that out on your own.” It took us awhile because we needed to stop for gas and then go pick up my truck. Not my most shining moment. It is getting late, and Kim and I have only just printed out her lines.

  She is standing in my living room staring at the wal over my shoulder carefuly reciting each line with little to no inflection in her voice. It is lucky for me that I finished the last little bit of tomorrow’s homework while I was waiting for my turn to audition, but for Kim I am sure I would be wiling to take an incomplete on an assignment if I had to. And I probably would have had to. I try to make myself comfortable on the couch as I cal out instructions and feed her lines when needed.

  “You have to move more. You wouldn’t stand stock stil, you’re thinking aloud— pace around and move your hands.”

  “You can’t turn your back to the audience. Just pivot on the bals of your feet.”

  “Don’t just look at me, there are going to be lots of kids in the auditorium tomorrow you should make eye contact with as many people as possible.”

  “I know I am the only person here—try and pretend.”

  “No, there should be a pause after that line. I have met someone and then you wait for the audience to react. Try counting to five before you continue.”

  “You can’t move your lips while you’re counting, Kim.”

  “Keep going, if you mess up the lines tomorrow just play through it.”

  We have been at it for almost two hours when Jason and Mandy walk in.

  “Whoops. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in Marshal’s dreams.” He pipes up as soon as he sees Kim.

  Mandy swats him. “Come on, Jason. You said you’d buy me pizza.”

  “So we’l order in.” He flops down into an easy chair with his most obnoxious smile smeared across his face. “We don’t want to miss a free show!”

  “Take a hike, Jase.” I am seriously considering dragging him out of the room in the most painful way possible, but he mus
t have some smal sense of self preservation, because with only a minimal amount of suggestive-turned-creepy winking and eyebrow wiggling he alows Mandy to tow him out the front door.

  “I’m sorry, about my brother. He’s… wel, I’m just sorry about him.”

  “He’s right though.” Now I know exactly what my brother’s spastic eyes were saying and I wish he was right, but I am pretty sure that isn’t what Kim is referring too.

  “What about?” Can she hear how nervous she makes me?

  “The pizza. We should order some food—I need to eat.”

  Good going, Henries—of course she’s hungry it is after 7:00. Mom is taking a night class at the community colege so we were supposed to be in charge of our own dinner tonight. “Of course, I’m sorry. Did you want pizza? There is a pretty good Chinese place…”

  “First Wok? I love them.”

  I knew we were perfect for each other. “Chinese it is.”

  By the time the doorbel rings with our dinner I am pretty satisfied with Kim’s monologue. She is the hardest worker I have ever met. Every time she messed up it was like I could see her brain rewinding and she would dive right back in. That is my excuse for almost forgetting to feed her. I was that absorbed in enjoying watching her work.

  I love shrimp fried rice from First Wok. It is like magic. Tonight I barely taste it as I eat. Instead of concentrating on my dinner I am entranced by Kim. She ordered beef and broccoli over plain brown rice. I didn’t even know you could make rice more boring, but Kim succeeded. She’s beautiful. I could watch her eat Chinese food al night. Just like in everything else in life, Kim is perfect with chop sticks. Normaly I would cave and grab a fork but I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Kim, so I am suffering through with chop sticks.

  “They sent forks too.” Kim pushes the plastic ware towards me.

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t be dumb. You are making a mess.”

  Usualy a comment like this from Kim would bother me. However recently I have come to the conclusion that Kim isn’t exactly rude—she’s just more honest than is socialy acceptable. “I’d rather use the chop sticks.”