A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks Page B

motion, working off nervous energy, but she seemed strangely lethargic. She hadn’t put on her costume yet—she was supposed to wear a white, flowing dress to give that angelic appearance— and she was still wearing the same sweater she’d worn at school. Despite my trepidation at how she might react, I walked up to the three of them.
    “Hey, Jamie,” I said. “Hello, Reverend . . . Miss Garber.”
    Jamie turned to me.
    “Hello, Landon,” she said quietly. I could tell she’d been thinking about the night before, too, because she didn’t smile at me like she always did when she saw me. I asked if I could talk to her alone, and the two of us excused ourselves. I could see Hegbert and Miss Garber watching us as we took a few steps off to the side, out of hearing distance.
    I glanced around the stage nervously.
    “I’m sorry about those things I said last night,” I began. “I know they probably hurt your feelings, and I was wrong to have said them.”
    She looked at me, as if wondering whether to believe me.
    “Did you mean those things you said?” she finally asked.
    “I was just in a bad mood, that’s all. I get sort of wound up sometimes.” I knew I hadn’t really answered her question.
    “I see,” she said. She said it as she had the night before, then turned toward the empty seats in the audience. Again she had that sad look in her eyes.
    “Look,” I said, reaching for her hand, “I promise to make it up to you.” Don’t ask me why I said it—it just seemed like the right thing to do at that moment.
    For the first time that night, she began to smile.
    “Thank you,” she said, turning to face me.
    “Jamie?”
    Jamie turned. “Yes, Miss Garber?”
    “I think we’re about ready for you.” Miss Garber was motioning with her hand.
    “I’ve got to go,” she said to me.
    “I know.”
    “Break a leg?” I said. Wishing someone luck before a play is supposed to be bad luck. That’s why everyone tells you to “break a leg.”
    I let go of her hand. “We both will. I promise.”
    After that, we had to get ready, and we went our separate ways. I headed toward the men’s dressing room. The Playhouse was fairly sophisticated, considering that it was located in Beaufort, with separate dressing rooms that made us feel as if we were actual actors, as opposed to students.
    My costume, which was kept at the Play-house, was already in the dressing room. Earlier in the rehearsals we’d had our measurements taken so that they could be altered, and I was getting dressed when Eric walked in the door unannounced. Eddie was still in the dressing room, putting on his mute bum’s costume, and when he saw Eric he got a look of terror in his eyes. At least once a week Eric gave him a wedgie, and Eddie kind of high-tailed it out of there as fast as he could, pulling one leg up on his costume on the way out the door. Eric ignored him and sat on the dressing table in front of the mirror.
    “So,” Eric said with a mischievous grin on his face, “what are you going to do?”
    I looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “About the play, stupid. You gonna flub up your lines or something?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    “You gonna knock the props over?” Everyone knew about the props.
    “I hadn’t planned on it,” I answered stoically.
    “You mean you’re going to do this thing straight up?”
    I nodded. Thinking otherwise hadn’t even occurred to me.
    He looked at me for a long time, as if he were seeing someone he’d never seen before.
    “I guess you’re finally growing up, Landon,” he said at last. Coming from Eric, I wasn’t sure whether it was intended as a compliment.
    Either way, though, I knew he was right.
    In the play, Tom Thornton is amazed when he first sees the angel, which is why he goes around helping her as she shares Christmas with those less fortunate. The first words out of Tom’s mouth are, “You’re beautiful,” and I was supposed to say them as if I