How to Keep Rolling After a Fall by Karole Cozzo Page B

way it makes him smile and laugh. I remember the text he sent me at the end of Saturday night, how my happiness sparked his. And I certainly remember the look in his eyes when he just took off my hat, the look that told me he feels the same way about me as I feel about him. Because if you feel angry when someone’s hurting, it’s because you care about them. A lot.
    Unless …
    Unless I’m still an idiot when it comes to understanding other people. Maybe I’m so desperate to believe that someone can like me, truly like me, again that I’ve been reading more into it than I should be.
    I quickly untangle my fingers from his. “I understand.”
    â€œI mean, I just really think I need to—”
    â€œI understand,” I say, louder this time, cutting him off. “You don’t have to give me a little speech. I get it.”
    Pax keeps looking at me, lips a thin line, eyes conflicted. “Nikki…” He tries to find my hand again.
    But I busy myself, reaching for the DVD case, and stand up to put it in the player. I’m hurt, and I feel some bitter satisfaction in knowing he can’t follow me. “Forget about it. Let’s just watch the movie.” I glance over my shoulder and give him the first fake smile I’ve ever given him. “We’re friends. And that’s okay.”
    I put the movie in the DVR player, but I don’t actually see a single minute of it. I felt so comfortable when we first entered his house, and now I feel anything but.

 
    Chapter 8
    Ms. Mitchell, our theater teacher, stands in front of the stage. She reaches forward and hands a stack of papers to a student sitting in the first row, who sends the papers down the row. “I think you’ll all be really happy to hear that we’re going to start moving away from just lecture and note-taking and get going with the performance portion of this class.”
    I take one of the papers and hand the pile off to Sam, who’s sitting next to me. We’ve sat together every class since we officially met. We’ve also started meeting up for lunch on the stage on days when we have theater class afterward.
    â€œBefore we tackle any improv or monologues,” Ms. Mitchell continues, “we need to start with the basics. Lesson one: Acting is behavior, nothing more. The more adept you become at reading a person’s behavior, the more keenly you can react to it.”
    Even though I’ve been trying to block the image from my mind, suddenly I’m back to picturing myself on Pax’s couch, closing my eyes and leaning in for the kiss. I wince, remembering his rejection. Clearly, I need some practice in reading behavior. I totally misread that one.
    â€œThis first activity is a partner assignment,” Ms. Mitchell says.
    Sam looks over at me, and I’m grateful she’s there. A couple of weeks ago, the prospect of a partner assignment would’ve been groan-inducing.
    â€œThis is an out-of-school assignment, but you don’t necessarily need to go far. Even if you walk across the street to Wawa after school, that should do. Make sure you stick with your partner. Make good choices and be safe.”
    I’m kind of intrigued now and look down at the paper as she reads from it.
    â€œThis assignment requires you and your partner to observe a stranger for at least fifteen minutes. Describe, in writing, his or her behavior. Are they sitting, standing, or walking? Who are they? What are they doing? Reading a book, waiting for someone, having a conversation? How are they feeling?” She looks up and grins. “Be discreet. If you get caught playing detective, it ruins the exercise. Afterward—and here’s the fun part—I want you and your partner to create a character based on the person you’ve observed. Round out your observations. What’s his backstory? How did she end up where you found her?”
    Ms. Mitchell squints at the