The Pretty One by Cheryl Klam Page B

it?” he asks.
    â€œAuditioning? You mean for your play? For your independent study?”
    He nods, but his eyes keep darting around like he’s distracted.
    â€œYes,” I say, a little too enthusiastically.
    â€œGreat. We’re holding auditions next week.”
    â€œYeah, okay.” I follow him down the steps. It rained earlier and the marble is still slick and wet.
    â€œAre you parked around here?” he asks.
    â€œNo. We live a couple blocks away.”
    â€œThat’s right. I forgot. I drove Lucy home one day last year.”
    Silence.
    The corner where we will part ways is quickly approaching. He will go to the left (toward the parking garage) and I will go to the right (toward my house). I have about 200 seconds left to wow him with my sparkling conversation—199 seconds…198 seconds. Think. What were Lucy’s instructions again? Question…tease, touch! What’s a good question? Why can’t I think of a good question? 195 seconds. 194…
    â€œI wish I lived around here,” he says. “Towson’s a hike.”
    I forget all about asking a brilliant question as Drew grins at me. Even though I’m so excited to be with him that my heart is banging a million miles a minute, there’s something about his smile that makes me feel relaxed and happy at the same time.
    â€œWhenever my mom can’t find a parking spot she talks about moving to suburbia,” I say. “But I think she’s afraid that all the women out there wear Lilly Pulitzer and spend their time squeezing melons at the grocery store.”
    â€œWhat does she have against melons?”
    I laugh. “She’s always been antimelon. She’s in therapy, but it doesn’t seem to help.”
    His grin turns into a smile, enough to give me another tickle in the base of my belly. We’re at the corner. Our time together is over.
    â€œWell,” Drew says. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
    â€œSounds good!” Once again, I’m displaying extraordinary enthusiasm. Sheesh, I’m pathetic.
    Still, as I watch Drew walk up the street toward the parking garage, I realize that this is the first time since my accident that I’m also happy.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    When I get home I practically bound up the stairs and into our bedroom, looking for Lucy. She’s sitting on her bed, a manuscript in her lap. She has changed out of her school clothes and into her study-at-home ones, a pink Juicy sweat suit. Her long blond hair is twisted back in a bun, held in place by a pencil.
    â€œHow was your meeting with Mrs. Pritchie?” she asks.
    â€œFine,” I say excitedly. “But guess who I saw after school? Drew Reynolds!”
    â€œDrew?” Lucy tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh my God, that’s so funny! I was just talking to Annie about him. Did he tell you the good news?”
    Annie Carmichael is one of my sister’s closest friends, but I can’t really stand her. Not only is she a notorious gossip, she dyes her hair platinum blond, wears a ton of makeup, and talks in this really fake, baby doll voice. I shake my head as I continue to practically dance around the room.
    â€œAnnie overheard Mrs. Habersham saying that he’s been chosen to direct the spring musical.”
    I stop still. Mrs. Habersham is the head of the drama department. Considering Lucy’s rep for dating the directors of the spring musical, this is not good news. Not good at all.
    â€œDrew?” I ask weakly, hoping and praying that she’ll say something like:
Drew? You thought I was talking about Drew? Hah! That’s a laugh!
    â€œHe’s so talented,” she says, looking all starry and goo-goo eyed, the way I used to get around Frosted Flakes.
    â€œHe doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who should be directing the spring musical.” Read: He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who should be