Chapter 6 #2
Monty’s mouth fell open, but she took a deep breath rather than responding immediately.
Seizing the opportunity, Chicot quickly stepped away from the foyer, retreating toward Elijah, who was on the spring floor already.
She didn’t need to be part of this sister fight.
Elvis seemed to have the same plan, trying to follow Chicot, but Monty and Lyza both called him out for it.
Chicot’s hair prickled. She knew she was being talked about, but something in Monty’s tone and question caught Chicot off guard.
Chicot had expected Monty to be boorish or awkward about working with Chicot, of course, but as Monty’s face fell as they discussed Lyza missing more than a weekend or two, it seemed like Monty was more upset at the prospect of Lyza not being in the show than Chicot being in it.
Which was probably a good thing because Monty being sad about her sister not being around was easier for Chicot to deal with.
“Do you really think Lyza might miss more than half the season?” Elijah crossed his arms, his lips pressed into a hard line.
“I’m not sure. She said she found out a month ago, but I don’t know how far along she is.” Chicot ran a hand through her hair, frowning as she watched Monty and Lyza quietly bicker. Elvis stood at their side awkwardly, trying to gently coax them into not being annoyed with each other.
“Chicot, can you come here please?” Monty waved for Chicot to join them. Chicot looked to Elijah for help, her mouth hanging open, but he just held an open palm out toward Monty as if Chicot should go. So she complied, her hands growing clammy as she walked over to join them.
“Yes?” Chicot folded her hands in front of her, standing like a twelve-year-old boy ready to get yelled at by a teacher.
“Do you think you can do sixteen shows a weekend for more than three weeks if it comes to that?” Monty set a hand on her hip. Chicot blinked.
“Well, I used to work sixty-hour weeks at the gas station,” Chicot said. “So I think I can handle it.”
Monty looked Chicot over briefly, then turned back to Lyza. “Okay, but we have to have a backup plan if she can’t keep up.”
“What’s going on?” Chicot asked. Elijah was now at her back, looking over her head.
“Monty’s worried Chicot can’t handle the extra shows.” Lyza crossed her arms. “But she can.”
“She thinks she can.” Monty rolled her eyes. “Can you learn this in two weeks if we need you that soon?”
“All the lines and choreography? Yeah.” That was the one part about this she was sure of. It was no different than learning a routine for dance.
Monty sighed. “Okay, we’ll start now just to be safe, but we’re assuming Lyza will be in the show for the majority of the season. And we might need to make changes to the jokes.”
“Why? She can just pretend to be your sister,” Elvis asked. Monty wrinkled her nose, shaking her head.
“Nope, weird. Absolutely not.” She paused and quickly added, “No offense.”
“None taken?” Chicot rubbed the back of her head, furrowing her brow. “I don’t think.”
“I can help you rework jokes if needed,” Elijah offered. Lyza quickly asked for Elijah’s opinion on the ones about Middle and Wee being sisters. They settled on some of the mats nearby, Elijah digging Chicot’s script from her bag to write notes as he and Lyza batted ideas around.
Elvis then went to his bag, getting out three stage combat swords and handed one to both Monty and Chicot. Apparently, the fight choreography worried him the most, which made sense to Chicot. The swords might not be sharp, but they would hurt if you got hit.
Chicot looked longingly at a trampoline before she followed Monty and Elvis to the mat where they could practice stage combat. Luckily, Chicot could absolutely handle choreography, and that was all fighting on stage was.
It didn’t take long for Elvis to have the three of them working on blocking.
Even if they didn’t have all the lines settled yet, they needed to start because Lyza’s doctor could tell her she needed to stop performing at her next appointment.
If that was the case, they’d only have a short time to sort this out.
Chicot gave it her best. She offered options for fight scenes, tumbled away from certain “blows” she received in an exaggerated, goofy way that made Elvis laugh.
Each time, she turned to Monty quickly, hoping to see her laughing too.
Monty barely even smiled through most of it, her brow wrinkled and her eyes darting to Lyza whenever she had a moment.
Somehow, this was a relief to Chicot. She might not be making Monty laugh, but it wasn’t because she wasn’t funny.
It was because Monty was worried about her sister. That, Chicot could handle.
What she could not handle was Elvis pointing at her and Monty, directing Monty to pick Chicot up. Before Chicot could abscond, Monty got her hands around her middle, lifting her with ease. Chicot’s cheeks burned, her eyes on the floor mats.
“Jeez you weigh, like, nothing.” Monty set her back on her feet easily, her eyes going wide when she saw Chicot’s face. “You okay? You’re pretty red.”
“Fine! I’m fine.” Chicot waved her hands, trying to tell herself as much as she was telling Monty and Elvis.
But the feeling of Monty’s hands on her waist lingered.
They were large and soft, her fingers thick at the bases and tapering to nearly squared-off ends.
Being held by Monty’s strong hands, Chicot could already tell, was going to become one of her favorite parts of this whole situation.
“Okay …” Monty watched Chicot as Elvis finished marking the size of the stage on the floor with painter’s tape. “You know, if this bothers you—”
“What?” Chicot looked up at Monty, her head shaking slightly. “No, no. I’m excited actually.”
She grinned at Monty, maybe wider than she really should.
Chicot had never been good at contorting her face into the right shape to get her feelings across to other people.
It was why Elijah had suggested her jester outfit include a mask, and it had quickly become her entire identity.
It was easier to get across to people that she was just a silly little guy when she had painted expression and some bells on her head.
Monty pressed her lips together for a moment and sighed. She looked Chicot in the face again with her lips parted like she might speak before she narrowed her eyes toward her sister, who was still writing lines with Elijah.
Chicot’s chest expanded with the sudden desire to make sure Monty knew she was really in this.
She wanted to be friends with her, Elvis, and Lyza, and this was what friends did, didn’t they?
They helped each other. They were each other’s village.
Or something like that. Chicot had really only had Elijah up until now, but adding more people sounded good to her.
She wanted that. So, Chicot might not fully understand all the intricacies of what was going on with Lyza being pregnant, but she knew she wanted to help.
Her dad had always said that was enough.
She straightened herself up and nudged Monty with her elbow, hair standing on-end as her arm slid against Monty’s soft skin. “You guys will be okay, and I want to help. Don’t worry about me.”
Monty’s eyes returned to Chicot slowly, her lips pinched into a frown and her head tilted. Her fingers were on her ear, nervously rubbing it as she started to answer.
“No, I mean, well …”
Chicot shimmied her shoulders, mimicking something she did on stage with Elijah, just being goofy.
She didn’t want Monty’s face to look so tight, but she didn’t really know the words she needed to say to help her relax.
Either way, she managed to catch Monty’s attention, one of her brows arching cutely as she tilted her head.
Her frown dissipated as her mouth opened in a confused “O” shape.
She looked like a fish. A cute fish, like one of those fake ones everyone in Wisconsin had in their cabins in the early aughts that sang and wiggled. Chicot liked it.
“Plus, I’m an easier lift,” Chicot said. She wasn’t sure how true that really was, but she was going to run with it. “This summer’ll probably be easier on your back. That’s good, right?”
A single, high laugh came out of Monty and her lips turned up.
It was small, and there was still a worried wrinkle in her forehead, but she did laugh.
It grew louder when Chicot wiggled her shoulders again and made a joke about this being better for her knees too.
Monty swatted at Chicot’s arm gently, shaking her head.
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Monty rubbed her cheeks. “I’ll stop being so worried.”
“Good.” Chicot hopped in front of Monty. “Oh, actually. Have you ever been a cheerleader?”
“Umm, no.” Monty looked down at herself, and Chicot could tell in a moment she was thinking what many girls had thought before. Monty then confirmed it by saying, “I wouldn’t have fit into the uniforms. But Elvis and Lyza were.”
“Well, they made me wear the mascot costume in my senior year because I cut my hair short and couldn’t put a bow in it anymore,” Chicot confessed. This elicited another laugh from Monty, and Chicot beamed. Chicot wanted to bathe in Monty’s infectious laughter.
“But,” Chicot continued, “before that, I was a flyer. We might be able to speed up the acrobatics if we insert some cheerleading moves. If Elvis knows some, we can teach you.”
“That’s a good idea actually.” Monty smiled. She genuinely smiled for the first time since they’d gotten to the gym. “Let’s talk to him.”