“How’s school going?” Dr. Richardson was asking.
“All right,” Erin said, forcing herself to concentrate. The topic seemed safe enough, so she continued. “Ms. Thornton—she’s the dance teacher at Briarwood—announced today that we’re doing a joint play production with Berkshire Prep.”
“The boys’ school? When?”
“After Easter.”
Dr. Richardson glanced at her desk calendar. “Only two months from now. Sounds like a big task. What’s the play?”
“West Side Story.”
The willowy, brown-haired therapist smiled. “That was always one of my favorites. I saw the movie five times when it first came out in the sixties. Are you going for a part?”
Erin fidgeted with the buttons on her blouse. “I love to dance. I’d like the lead—Maria.”
“You sound as if you may not try out. Why?”
The headaches, she thought, refusing to meet Dr. Richardson’s eyes. “No reason. I guess I’ll go for it. Auditions are next Monday, and the Berkshire drama department is supposed to come to our school for them.”
“I guess it makes sense to do a joint production. It wouldn’t be much fun playing a love scene with a girl dressed up like a guy, would it?” Dr. Richardson leaned across the desk and added, “I hope whoever gets the role of Tony is gorgeous”.
Erin hadn’t thought about the male lead until then. “It doesn’t matter to me. Just so long as he’s good.”
“Do you have a boyfriend? Maybe he won’t want you to play opposite some other guy. Would that be a problem?”
Erin felt herself tense up. The last boy she’d cared about had been Travis Sinclair. Dark-haired, brown-eyed, Berkshire Prep senior, Travis. Amy’s Travis. The betrayer. “No. I’m too busy with dance and school. I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”
“Really? You’re so pretty—”
Erin stood. “Look, I don’t want to talk anymore today. I’ve got stuff to do, and I’ll bet you have other people to see. People who really need a shrink.”
Dr. Richardson rose and stepped forward. “Your hour’s not up, Erin. You don’t have to leave.”
“This is a stupid idea, coming here to talk about my headaches. I feel fine, and I haven’t had one in a week.”
“Until we figure out what’s causing them, they won’t stay away. Won’t you let me help you, Erin?”
The bright, airy office seemed suddenly small and confining. Erin wanted out. But she kept seeing the stern set of her mother’s mouth as she’d told her, “You’re going to see this counselor, and that’s final. We’ve spent a fortune on medical tests, and everything’s come back negative.”
Erin had shouted, “Would you rather they’d found some horrible disease?”
“How could you suggest such a thing?” Her mother’s eyes had filled with tears, and Erin wished she could have taken back the words. “We have to get to the bottom of this. I’ve already lost one daughter.…”
“ … week, same time?”
With a start Erin realized that Dr. Richardson was talking to her. “What?”
“Can you come back next week, same time?”
“I—uh—guess so. Sure.”
Dr. Richardson smiled brightly. “Good. We can get rid of these headaches, Erin, if you trust me and let me help.”
Erin didn’t believe the therapist for a minute, but she’d go just so her parents would stop nagging her and shouting at each other. “Nobody has to know that I’m seeing a counselor, do they?” She dropped her gaze to the sea green carpet.
“Our discussions are in strict confidence, Erin. Only the people you choose to tell need ever know.”
Fat chance! Erin told herself. She’d never let anyone find out. It was humiliating. “I still think the other doctors gave up too soon.”
“Then prove it by working with me.” Dr. Richardson’s voice held a challenge.
Erin stared straight ahead as her mother’s worried face floated in her mind’s eye, along with the distant memory of her father crying over the decision to turn off Amy’s life-support machines. “I guess I don’t have any choice, do I?”
“See you next week.”
Erin left without answering.
Chapter Two
“How did your meeting with Dr. Richardson go? What did you think of her?”
Erin shoved the food around on her dinner plate, figuring the best answer to her mothers question. “She was okay.”
“Just okay? I liked her a lot when I met with her. I honestly think she can help you, Erin—”
Erin let go of her fork, and it clattered against her plate. “Look, this whole thing is your idea, you know. I never wanted to go see a counselor in the first place.”
“Its for your own good. We only want to see you happy and well again.”
“Tm happy going to school, dancing, planning for graduation and college, and doing things with my friends.”
“Now don’t go making too many plans. I’m not convinced that you need to go away to college. After all, the University of South Florida is a perfectly fine place, and it’s right here in Tampa, so you could live at home—”
Here we go again, Erin thought. She interrupted her mother. “But USF doesn’t have the dance department that Florida State does. I’ve told you that before.”
“And if you’re not well by September, you can’t possibly consider moving away,” her mother said stubbornly.
“I’ll be okay, Mom.”
“It’s not a stigma to need help, Erin. There are lots of people—”
“Stop it,” her father said curtly. “Erin, calm down. And Marian, get off Erin’s back.”
Mrs. Bennett glared at Mr. Bennett. “It was your idea too. We both agreed that she needed counseling.”
“That’s the point. It’s her counseling. We agreed not to discuss her sessions, that she could talk about them only if she chooses.”
“She’s my daughter, my only daughter. I just want her to get well and lead a normal life again.”
“It’s her life, isn’t it?”
They continued arguing, but Erin had stopped listening. She’d heard it all before over the past months, and no matter how it started, they always ended up in a yelling match, with Erin feeling like the catalyst. They argued about her, around her, because of her. Sometimes she heard them well into the night, and she had to cover her head with her pillow to shut them out.
It hadn’t always been this way. They’d been happier together once, even as much as a year ago. Before Amy’s accident.
“That’s right,” Mrs. Bennett was shouting, “lust walk right out in the middle of supper. That’s the way to solve the problems—run away from them.”
Mr. Bennett threw his napkin on the table and stood. “I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going to the library. I have papers to grade.”
Mrs. Bennett followed him out of the dining room. “We certainly wouldn’t want your family to get in the way of your job now, would we?”
“Me? What about you? You’re always working late at that store of yours.”
“I own my own business, and I have to manage it. I’m the boss, and the place would fall apart if I wasn’t around.”
“Well, since you’re so indispensable, you won’t miss me tonight.”
“You’ve never turned down the money the store brings in, have you? And besides, it’s going to take ten years to pay off our medical bills.”
Erin squeezed her eyes shut, as if to block out the voices. What was happening to them? Why had her parents turned into strangers, and why was her family falling apart?
When Amy had been alive, their dinner table had been fun. She could still see Amy making them all laugh with her silly faces and involved stories about school. Sometimes, the way Amy hogged the limelight had irritated Erin, but now, looking back, she saw that Amy had definitely brought their family together. She’d acted as a kind of unifying force, compelling them to interact whether they wanted to or not! Erin suddenly realized tha
t she’d give anything to have meals together again where they laughed and kidded instead of fought and argued.
She blinked away tears and began to clear the table, trying to ignore Amy’s chair. It stood empty, yet ready and waiting, as if its former occupant might one day return.
Breathless, Erin slipped into the Briarwood theater back door and hurried to join the people sitting in a semicircle of metal chairs on the brightly lit stage. Her friend, Shara Perez, caught her eye and waved her over to the seat she’d been saving next to her. Ms. Thornton was talking to the group, and Mr. Ault, from the Berkshire drama department, stood beside her.
“Sorry I’m late,” Erin whispered to Shara. “Did I miss anything?”
“Just the usual pep talk,” Shara whispered back. “They’ll start the auditions in a few minutes.”
Erin heard Ms. Thornton saying, “ … going to be a terrific production. Mr. Ault and I will be assigning major roles by Wednesday and passing out a rehearsal schedule on Friday. I expect every one of you to make every rehearsal. If you can’t come to one, you must contact either me or Mr. Ault. Is that clear?”
Erin darted her eyes nervously, feeling as if Ms. Thornton was talking directly to her. Erin knew she had an excellent chance at the lead, but if she missed rehearsals because of the headaches, then Ms. Thornton might not choose her. Only the day before, during church, another one had come on her, and she’d spent the rest of Sunday in bed because of it.
Mr. Ault stepped forward. “Since this is a cold reading, we’ll pass out the scripts now. Take a few minutes to look them over; then we’ll have everybody break into smaller groups for the principal parts and let you read individually.”
When she’d received her script, Erin asked Shara, “Are you going to read?”
“Don’t have to,” Shara told her. “Ms. Thornton already told me I’ll be the singing voice of Maria. That way the lead only has to be responsible for her lines and the dancing. In fact, most of the parts will have stand-in singers. That way more people can participate.”
“And those of us who can’t carry a tune won’t have to ruin the roles by attempting to sing,” Erin observed “That’s pretty clever of Ms. Thornton.”
Shara smiled. “I thought so, because those of us who can’t dance won’t have to worry about falling on our faces.”
Pinky, a senior and a pixie-sized girl with black hair and a fiery Spanish personality, read for the part of Anita, the leader of the Puerto Rican girls. Erin’s palms began to sweat because the reading for Maria was next, and by now she had her heart set on the part.
Erin read a scene, and when she was finished, Mr. Ault said, “I want you to try another one. But this time I want you to interact with the male lead.” He studied the group of boys who’d come forward for Tony.
Erin did too. One guy was particularly attractive, tall and lean with straight chestnut-colored hair and sexy smoke-colored eyes. She glanced at Shara, who gave a discreet thumbs-up gesture. All at once Erin realized that doing the play might be more fun than she’d originally thought.
Mr. Ault said, “David, come give this a try.”
The dark-haired boy moved aside, and another one stepped forward, one not nearly so handsome. Erin judged him only about an inch or two taller than herself. His blond hair was tousled, a bit too long, hanging over his eyebrows in front and brushing his collar in the back. His eyes were bright blue, and they sparkled with mischief. He was wearing baggy checkered Bermuda shorts and a flamboyant floral-print shirt, socks that sagged and torn tennis shoes. Erin stared. Surely Mr. Ault was joking!
“Hi. I’m David Devlin,” he said as he stood in front of her, offering a grin that lit up his face. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re the most beautiful girl this side of paradise city?”
Erin felt her mouth drop open and color creep up her neck.
“Uh—Erin? Do you want to get on with the reading, please?” Ms. Thornton’s voice penetrated her trance. Totally flustered, Erin fumbled with the pages and dropped the script. The onlookers shuffled. David stooped, retrieved her booklet, and handed it back with another disarming smile. Erin took an instant dislike to David Devlin.
She snatched the booklet, found her place, and read the lines stiffly. David’s expression grew serious as he fell into the character of Tony with amazing skill. At the end of the scene, Mr. Ault called, “Good job. You want to try it, Andy?”
Another boy came forward, and after he read, Mr. Ault sent in another one. Seth—Mr. Smoky Gray Eyes—read last with her. Other girls did the scene with each of the boys, and finally it was over.
“Okay, take a break,” Ms. Thornton directed.
Shara hurried over to Erin. “You’re a cinch,” she said. “I saw Ms. Thornton and Mr. Ault taking notes the whole time.”
Erin did several leg stretches and bend-overs to relieve the tension that had collected in her muscles. “Well, I certainly hope that they don’t pick that David idiot to be the male lead,” she said.
“Why not?” Shara said. “I think he’s sort of cute. Not knock-you-out-cute, but adorable cute.”
“So are three-year-olds, but I don’t want to be in a play with one.”
“As an objective bystander, allow me to tell you that he gave the best reading.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “Just my luck.” She took a chair to one side while activity buzzed around her and voices echoed in the cavernous theater. Beyond the lights the stage and seats were swallowed up by darkness. The wooden stage floor looked dusty, and the scrim curtain swayed slightly with a draft.
An unexplainable sense of loneliness descended on her. She stared at the others, feeling distant and removed. She loved the theater because she loved to dance, but she’d never wanted to be an actress. It had been her sister Amy who’d had greasepaint in her blood. Amy should be reading for a part. If only …
“I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”
David Devlin’s voice intruded into Erin’s thoughts, and she looked up to see him standing beside her. “Just drop it,” she told him sourly.
Instead he dragged a chair over and plopped down beside her. “So you’re a dancer. I’m an actor. At least that’s what I intend to be. Broadway and everything.”
“Does that mean you can’t dance?” she asked. “You can’t take the male lead if you can’t dance, you know.”
“I can shuffle along,” he said. “ ’Course I’m not a pro, but I’ve taken classes before. Still, I’m a better actor than dancer, and I can sing. How about you?”
She ignored his question, saying, “You talk like you’ve already landed the part. You’re not the only one trying out.” To make her point Erin inclined her head toward Seth. She also hoped to convey to David that she found Seth a lot more appealing than she did him.
“He’s decent,” David said. “But I’m going to be playing Tony.”
His attitude irritated her. “You’ll excuse me if I cheer for the other guy.”
David laughed. “You’re orettv sure you’re going to get Maria, aren’t you? What’s the difference?”
“I—I am not sure at all,” Erin stammered.
“Then why didn’t you read for any other part?”
Disarmed by his logic, Erin was seething. “Well if you’re a ‘sure thing’ for Tony, then I guess I should have read for another part.” She stood, dropping her script.
David scooped it up. “You gotta learn to hang onto this thing, Erin.”
Intent on brushing him off, Erin spun, only to have the back of her heel catch on the rung of the metal chair. It clanked and clattered and would have fallen if David hadn’t reached out to steady it. “For a dancer you’re a little clumsy,” he teased. “Still gorgeous, however.”
She couldn’t think of a snappy put-down, and she considered throwing her script at him. Instead, she stalked off while he called, “See you on Friday, ‘Maria.”’
Chapter Three
“If he gets the part, I’ll quit.” Erin shoved dance gear i
nto her duffel bag in the girls locker room while Shara watched.
“Boy, I haven’t seen you this worked up since Travis Sinclair took Cindy Pitzer to last year’s Spring Fling dance.”
“That was different,” Erin snapped. “Amy was comatose, and that creep was dating someone else while he was supposed to be Amy’s boyfriend. I hated him then, and I still do.” She glared at Shara for making her remember. “I dislike David Devlin for entirely different reasons,” she said.
Shara opened her locker and took out an apple. “Then you’d better consider quitting. According to the other guys at tryouts, he’s the best. He wins every forensic competition and placed second in state in drama as a junior last year.”
“What are you, a reporter?”
“I just asked a few questions, that’s all. Besides, what better way to get to know Seth? Remember, the one with the sexy eyes?”
So Shara was interested in Seth. Erin hid her disappointment, saying, “No. They all seemed alike to me.”
Shara buffed the apple on her shirt. “What’s with you anyway, Erin? You’re always snarling at people, and you’re negative about everything. I was hoping that this play would be something fun we could do together.”
“Nothings wrong with me. I just happen to think David Devlin is a jerk, that’s all.”
“I don’t think so,” Shara countered. “Afterwards, after you stormed off, we were all getting acquainted and talking, and David had us in stitches imitating teachers at Berkshire. I laughed until I was crying, and I don’t even know the teachers at Berkshire.” Shara chuckled. “I can still picture him.”
Exasperated, Erin slammed her locker door shut. “That sounds so juvenile. I wouldn’t want to be a part of ragging on teachers. My fathers a teacher here, remember?”
“Well, if we’re all going to be in this play together, then you’d better join in. It’s going to take all of us working like crazy to bring it off.”
Erin realized Shara was right. She’d been in enough dance productions over the years to know how much hard work went into them. “We’ve got a couple of months, so there’s plenty of time to get to know everybody.” She zipped up her bag. A knot of tension had gathered at the base of her neck.