Chapter Three
Eliza
“Great theater is about challenging how we think and encouraging us to fantasize about a world we aspire to.”
—Willem Dafoe
Of course Reed Fulton had to be here this summer, of all summers.
A warm breeze blew across my face, lifting the flyaways off my forehead. Normally, standing on the balcony listening to crickets trilling in the grass brought me peace, but not tonight.
It’s like I was twelve again, when he took my favorite set of pearls and draped them on Marvin the Bookworm, a big statue outside the local library, and totally ruined their luster.
Or like the time he jumped out from Ms. Loretta’s hydrangea bushes when I was balancing library books on my head.
The books toppled over and into a muddy puddle, and all my piggy-bank money went to the library for damages.
“Eliza!” Lauryn called from behind.
I plucked and twirled one of the feathers from my costume before peering over my shoulder through the open door of my bedroom. “What’s up?”
“You coming in anytime soon?”
“Probably not.”
She groaned. “Come inside or I’ll eat all these chips myself.”
Truth: Lauryn was super terrified of heights and almost passed out the one time she visited me in the light booth. She wouldn’t step foot onto my balcony even if I dared her to.
The light in the apartment above our garage turned on.
TJ must’ve just gotten home. When he stayed with us for the summers, it always added drama, but at least he wasn’t in my house all the time.
With a full kitchen, bathroom, and a place to park his motorcycle in the garage below him, he’d hopefully keep to himself like usual.
Lauryn threw a chip at my head. “The bag’s already half empty.”
“Of course it is.” I dropped the feather and watched it sway back and forth like a pendulum before it changed course, twirling and tumbling to a tune only it could hear.
Must be nice to float wherever you wanted. To come and go as you pleased.
I wouldn’t know. Crowleys never floated. We steered.
I passed Lauryn and walked back into my room, its walls covered with posters of old plays and movie quotes, before slumping onto my bed and grabbing my favorite pillow.
Lauryn pored over the bulletin board above my desk, covered with tickets, college brochures, and old photos.
After popping a Dorito in her mouth, she wiped her fingers on her T-shirt and unpinned a picture of my grandmother, who beamed as she held a spoon over her head in victory—one of many against the Fultons in the annual Battle of the Bolognese.
“That woman did it all, didn’t she?” Lauryn said as she joined me at the foot of my bed.
I took the picture from her and rubbed my fingers over its soft edges. “She really did.”
Theater superstar, queen of fundraisers, with the ability to name every person who passed by her in the street, Grandma Marguerite was in a class all on her own. Even after that crap went down with the stadium, she still called Reed’s grandmother, Joyce, every Sunday for their usual catch-up.
Grandma died on a Saturday afternoon, and when Joyce called the day after, I assumed it was because she didn’t know.
She did.
She had called to check on me.
I’d never forget that.
“She’d be proud of you for being in the production this summer.” Lauryn offered me the open and now nearly empty bag of chips.
“Well, I’m not in it, really—”
“Hey.” Lauryn smacked my leg. “Everyone who works and helps with a play is in the play, Eliza. ‘There are no small parts…’ ”
“ ‘…only small actors,’ ” I finished, nudging her.
We let my cat-shaped clock on the wall speak for us for a few moments, its ticking only interrupted by Lauryn’s hand going in and out of the chip bag until she finished it. “So…when do we get to talk about Reed Fulton being in town this summer?”
I fell back against my plush headboard.
“It’s been a few years since I last saw him, but damn, girl.” She fell backward next to me. “He’s fire.”
Please. I made a gagging noise. “No, he’s not.”
She smacked my arm. “I know your mask was covered in feathers but come on. Tall, dark eyes—”
“Arrogant, irritating…”
“But those arms and shoulders.” She fake-swooned. “Did you see them?”
Yep. I saw them, all right.
Gah. Wait. What?
“His triceps pushing against that shirt…”
“Lauryn.” I threw my pillow at her. “He’s a Fulton. The same boy who stole my toys when I was six. Who told me there was no such thing as Santa Claus—”
“Didn’t you say it was an accident about Santa—”
“I was five.”
She laughed and hopped off my bed, grabbing my iPad off the desk. I changed out of the rest of my costume, throwing on a pair of old lacrosse shorts and a big T-shirt of Dad’s before peering over her shoulder.
Lauryn now scrolled through the new Fulton team page.
“Are you nuts?” I snatched it. “My dad uses this to make game videos sometimes.”
Three loud knocks hammered on my door before it opened, and Dad stood under its frame holding a toothbrush. His reading glasses rested on the top of his salt-and-pepper hair, and a pen sat tucked behind his ear.
He must’ve been watching game tapes again.
“Eliza, your mother and I were worried when we didn’t get a text from you. You know you’re expected to text us when you go somewhere and when you’re on your way back,” he said.
Why not just put one of those GPS chips in my neck like a dog from the shelter? “I know. I’m sorry…I, uh, forgot.” That, and running from the cops kinda got me all distracted. Not to mention running into the plague of my adolescence…
“You two getting ready for bed?” He leaned against the door frame.
“We’re getting there,” I said.
“You didn’t drink at the party, did you?”
“No,” we both blurted.
“Good.” He waved his toothbrush at us. “You never know what people ‘accidentally’ drop into drinks. I watched a documentary about it once.” He stepped into the room and sat in my desk chair.
“It was part of a series on PBS about the realities of social cultures and norms. Remember when we used to watch PBS on Sunday nights, Eliza?”
Yep. Back when you and I actually had stuff in common. “Dad.” I rubbed my temples. “We’re tired.”
“Oh. Right.” He stood up and glanced around like he had forgotten something before moving toward the door. “You’ve got an early morning, anyway. I need you to help Mom get the stadium ready—”
“But we were at the stadium all day today.” I grabbed a handful of gummy bears out of Lauryn’s stash in her duffle. “Banners are hung up for the new season. Locker rooms are ready to go. The concession stand is stocked.”
“That stadium needs to be pristine. The Fultons have a Family Day set up at the B Field to raise money for their team in a couple days, and I want our field to be a thousand times better than theirs.”
I coughed, almost choking on one of the green ones. “They’re on the B Field?”
“Yeah.”
“The sandlot?”
He nodded.
“Dad, that field sucks.” I laughed. “Ours already looks a million times better.”
“She’s totally right, Pops.” Lauryn grabbed the remaining gummies out of my hand and shoved them into her mouth matter-of-factly.
Lauryn had been calling my dad Pops for forever. When she lost her dad in a freak accident years ago, Dad swooped in and picked her up as if she were a baby bird who fell from her nest. Dad was known for doing that kind of thing—reaching out to others and bringing them in.
He did that with my brother’s boyfriend.
With TJ.
I used to think he got that trait from Grandma, but she’d never be as reckless as he apparently had been lately.
“Dad.” I rubbed my hands together. “Why’d you put the stadium up for grabs this summer? Isn’t that a bit…risky?”
“TJ told you, eh?” Dad moved his glasses into the front pocket of his shirt.
“It should’ve come from you,” I said, moving toward him. “What if we lose? The hardware store has been down in sales for years, and Mom said Grandpa’s money is almost gone—”
“Easy, kiddo.” Dad held up his hand. “Small businesses everywhere are down right now, and most of Grandpa’s money is safe and sound in the bank.”
“I thought most of it was drawn out in cash when you took the stadium.”
Lauryn coughed.
The cat clock ticked five times.
Dad cleared his throat. “We didn’t take the stadium. We bought it, fair and square, and we’re not going to lose it this summer.”
“But the Fultons have Reed pitching. Isn’t he supposed to be pretty good?” Crap. Did I just compliment a Fulton out loud?
Dad’s mouth morphed into a tight, thin line. His nose crinkled, and his face paled. “Who told you that?”
My head blanked. “I…uh…well—”
“I did,” Lauryn chimed in. Thank God. “I Googled the team.” She picked up the iPad and showed him their team page. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He swatted away her apology with his toothbrush like it was a meaningless fly. “If, by some miraculous turn of events for the Fultons, we do lose the stadium, it’s not like I can’t manage another one somewhere else.”
Excuse me?
“What do you mean ‘manage another one’?” Lauryn sat up straighter.
“Nothing to worry about right now, girls. It’s late. Get some sleep.” He smiled. “I’ll make waffles in the morning.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Lauryn gave me her “Oh shit” look. Dad’s version of breakfast was usually too charred to be edible.
“Of course I do.” He stepped into the hallway. “Lights out soon. Oh, and Eliza, please stop driving that piece of junk around town. It’s a wonder it still runs, and you already have a perfectly good car, one that definitely suits you better too.”
Suits me better?
“And can you update the hardware store’s website with some new pictures and a revised work schedule?” he asked.
“Sure, Dad. Just shoot me an email.”
“Not necessary. I’ve got it all downstairs on some notes and an SD card.” His eyes shone with pride. “I even remembered how much you liked organizing with sticky notes, so I used some of those too.”
“Dad, you raided my stickies again?” The last time he did I spent hours reorganizing them.
He winked and closed the door. “Goodnight, girls.”
“Night, Pops.” Lauryn took out her earrings, a rectangular hammered sterling-silver pair with pink coral stones through the middle. She made those a few weeks ago and already had orders for two more pairs. Lauryn was incredible at making jewelry—really, she was incredible at everything she did.
“I think your dad needs to be more worried about Reed.” Lauryn’s face glowed from the light of the screen. “He’s got a fastball that was clocked at eighty-nine miles per hour, you know.”
Great. “Can we please drop it?”
“Guess that’s why he’s called an ace, huh?”
Sadly, yes.
Having him here during my first big shot with the infamous summer theater troupe was like saying “Good luck” and greasing the stage before a performance, but having an ace pitcher going against Dad’s team during their most important season? Might as well stomp all over the foul line.
“Don’t worry.” Lauryn closed the iPad. “Your dad has one of the best records for summer baseball leagues in the state, maybe even on the East Coast.”
“True.” I fell backward and let my hair spill around me. “But did you hear him when he said he could always manage another stadium elsewhere?”
“I did.” She reached across the bed toward my nightstand and grabbed my lotion. “You don’t think that means…he wouldn’t make you move your senior year, would he?”
“No. No way. He would never.”
Right?
I grabbed my new bottle of face wash off my dresser and strolled into my bathroom. “I still can’t believe he’s going to ruin my summer though.”
“Who? Your dad?” Lauryn appeared at my side in front of the mirror.
“No. Reed.” I turned on the water and splashed my face. “I’ve never been able to focus with him around.”
“Yes, I know.” She nudged me. “Your brother and I have been telling you for years—”
“Lauryn…”
“Sooner or later, you’ll accept it.”
Ha.
Me and Fulton?
That’s about as likely as a TV musical being better than Broadway.
Although, I’ll admit… Grease Live! wasn’t half bad.
She did a twirl out of the bathroom and began rummaging through the pieces of my costume on the floor. “Before I forget, can I have the mask back? Mom doesn’t exactly know I borrowed it.”
“Sure. I think I left it near the balcony.”
Twenty minutes later, though, neither of us could find the crow mask anywhere in my room, on the balcony, or even in the back of my Jeep.
“I don’t understand.” Lauryn threw her hair up into a messy bun. “It didn’t just disappear. So where is it?”
And then I remembered.
The swing set.
The cops.
I jumped.
It fell.
We bumped heads.
Dang it.
“It’s not a ‘where.’ ” I sank into my bean bag. “It’s a ‘who.’ ”