“But what if you’re not better by then?” I try not to let the worry in my voice be obvious. “Are you sure it’s a good idea so soon into your program?”
“I will be there, Dot. And that’s the end of it.” She exhales, like we’ve just finished discussing something pleasant, instead of the possibility of undoing all her hard work and progress with one premature trip home. “Now, tell me about your new friends.”
Chapter Fifteen
I almost don’t show up at Zayne’s. My mind is still whirling after talking to my mom on the phone, so I’m not sure I’m in the right head space to run lines today. She reminded me I’m supposed to be focusing on college. But it’s getting harder to live the lie of pretending I want that, especially the more I practice for the play. It’s like there’s two sides of me that are at war with each other—the good daughter who keeps her promises, and the side of me I’ve been trying to find. The one that gets excited about something and looks forward to it the same way Beau does when he’s learning a new language.
I just wish I could somehow be both.
I knock on Zayne’s front door. When it comes down to it, he’s my best bet if I want to dowellin the play. And much as I want to deny it…I like practicing with him.
“Hi, there.” An older woman greets me from the other side of the door. She’s shorter than me, with chin length dark curls and a wide smile. “You must be Dot! I’m Celia, Zayne’s grandma. But you can call me Mimi. Come on in.” She swings the door open wider.
“Hi, Mimi.” I lift my hand into an awkward wave. “Thanks for letting me come and rehearse with Zayne.”
“No problem. He’s in his room. Go on up.”
I make for the stairs but pause when I see Lenny sitting at the dining table, visible from the entryway. He’s hunched over a paperback with his finger against the page, moving as his eyes scan the words.
“Hi, Lenny!” I say. “What are you reading?”
He doesn’t glance up but answers me. “I’m trying to determine whether Mary Stuart losing her head was warranted.”
I blink. “Oh.”
“Did she conspire to steal England from Elizabeth, or should she have been on the throne from the start?” He looks at me over his paperback. “Opinions tend to vary.”
I laugh, warmth blossoming in my chest. He looks so serious, like the answer is a matter of life and death. “Let me know what you decide.”
He grimaces, turning back to his book, and I take that as my cue to go upstairs. Zayne’s door is closed, so I knock softly. He opens it at the same time. I clear my throat and take a step back. “I’m here,” I announce.
“I see that.” His mouth twitches in amusement.
I brush past him, tossing my backpack onto his bed. “Let’s start.”
We run through our scenes in chronological order, rehearsing the first few off book until I get through them without fumbling anymore. Half an hour later, Mimi comes in. “I made some ceviche,” she says.
Zayne brightens. “Thanks, Mimi.” He takes the tray from her, a bowl of fresh shrimp and avocado with a side of tortilla chips on top.
“Is the restaurant closed today?” I ask.
Mimi nods. “Yeah, we close early on Mondays, our least busy day. But still, it seems like I never stop cooking.” She shakes her head, her thick hair swinging with her face.
Zayne takes a bite of the food. The crunching of the chips makes my stomach growl, so I have some too. And just as I expect, it’s delicious. I also feel a little twinge in my chest because it makes me think of Mom’s cooking.
Mimi leaves us and the food, and Zayne and I spend a few minutes scarfing down the chips and shrimp salsa. The room is silent save for us eating, and when the food is all gone, I sigh and pat my tummy. “That was delicious. Your grandma seems nice.”
“Yeah, she’s great. My dad died when Lenny was a baby, so she’s been like a second parent to us all our lives.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks.” Zayne puts the tray on his dresser top. “You’ll probably get to meet my mom, too. She’s grocery shopping, but she’ll be back soon.” He picks up his script off his bed. “In the meantime, let’s keep going.”
Excitement bubbles inside me. “Now?”
“Yes.”
And we do. We begin rehearsing again.
