Eight years ago

That October, my parents left for Italy. I begged them for weeks to take me with, and I was sure they would’ve if my history teacher hadn’t called to make sure they knew I was one bad test away from failing. My “students don’t fail teachers, teachers fail students” speech did not impress them. I had to stay.

To make things worse, Marco chose that same week to fly to Seattle and interview for this new job, which he promised he wouldn’t take if they made him move. Either way, I couldn’t stay in his apartment by myself, which left me in the house with Christy. If it weren’t for Enzo playing peacemaker, neither one of us would’ve survived.

But it ended up being a not so bad thing, because on Friday, my non-essential role as the understudy to Mabel in the school’s production of Pirates of Penzance turned into a completely essential one, thanks to Chloe Morgenstern spraining her knee. Who knew roller skating could be so dangerous. 

I hung up the call with my drama teacher and raced downstairs, bursting to tell someone the news. The only person I found was Enzo, standing in front of an open fridge and chugging orange juice straight from the carton. Lovely. 

I opened the cupboard he never used when he lived here and pulled out a cup, offering it to him without the lecture Mom would’ve given if she’d caught him.

“Nah, I’m done.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and screwed the lid back on. “Why are you bouncing?”

“Because Chloe Morgenstern sprained her knee!” I squealed. The half-shocked, half-amused look on Enzo’s face made me check myself. I cleared my throat. “I mean, poor, poor Chloe. She sprained her knee, so she can’t perform in Pirates of Penzance tonight.” I couldn’t tone down the excitement anymore, and my next words came out a high pitched squeal. “Which means I get the part!”

Enzo whooped and high-fived me. “That’s awesome! Try not to fall on your face.”

“Ha ha.” I crossed my fingers and hit him with my patented ‘adorable baby sister’ look: big eyes, arms behind my back, slight back and forth sway. “Will you come watch me since Mom and Dad and Marco are gone?”

“That’s going to be a hard pass.” Christy came into the kitchen wearing her ‘going out’ leather jacket and stole the orange juice from Enzo. “We have plans.”

I winced as the cup I’d pulled out was again ignored in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. If Christy was involved, this would be a much harder sell. “Can you push it back? Just for the first half?”

Christy rolled her eyes. “Lissa, why on earth would we want to go hang out at a high school on a Friday night?”

“You’re still in high school!”

“Barely!”

“Enzo, please?” I gave up on Christy and turned my attention back to my brother.

He hesitated, looking back and forth between us. “I mean… maybe we could stay for, like, half an hour. Can’t we tell Josh and Izzy we’ll meet them a little late?”

Christy snorted. “No way. They’re already waiting for us. Lissa’s been in like eight plays, and Marco can make up for it when he gets back on Monday. We’re going out.”

With one last condescending look for me, she dropped the orange juice on the counter and left the kitchen. Enzo shrugged apologetically.

“Sorry Liss. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

I watched him follow her to the front door, and then heard Christy call, “I’ll be out late, so don’t wait up for me!” right before the door slammed shut.

The house went dead quiet. I could hear the hum of the refrigerator, and somehow it was the most depressing sound ever. I felt so left behind, I wanted to scream. Except unlike the time when I was six and my family forgot me at the Ruby Tuesday’s in Grand Rapids, my parents weren’t going to come bursting through the door to scoop me up in their arms. I was on my own for this one.

I blamed that feeling for what I did next. I didn’t even remember deciding to text him. It was like the message just appeared on its own.

Almost immediately, the three little dots appeared to tell me he was typing. Seeing them eased the knot out of my shoulders.

I sent my next texts rapid-fire before I could second-guess myself.

No dots. A full two minutes went by and I started to feel like a moron.

He already had plans. Of course he did. Who didn’t have plans on a Friday night? Even the Young Homemakers club was doing a puzzle night. What did I think, that the most in-demand guy in our school would just be at home twiddling his thumbs? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I was typing up a no worries, forget I brought it up text when his reply appeared.

“Yes!” I jumped onto the couch and did a victory dance. Jamie was coming to see me! Sure, it was last minute and born out of a lack of anything else to do, but he was coming. To see me. 

In the play.

I stopped jumping. 

What was I thinking? I did plays because I liked them and I liked them because they were no pressure. I didn’t care if I screwed up in front of my classmates or my family. Clumsy moments and flubbed lines made great stories to laugh about at parties or the dinner table. But if I messed up in front of Jamie? After having invited him? I’d die. Literally. Our production would go from Gilbert and Sullivan to Romeo and Juliet, because I’d have to follow the lead of everyone’s favorite tragic heroine and kill myself in the name of love.

Well, I thought, trying to be optimistic. At least I’ve got a plan.