“Thank you. I’ll handle Ben. I can think of something. But can you meet Jesse and the others? Tell them I’m at rehearsal? Seven p.m.—at the gate. Here. Let me write a note.”
I grabbed a pen from my bag, a discarded cold open script from the stage, and scribbled on the back.
Hey, Jesse (and Ricky and Murph—if you could peel yourselves away from all of your rock collecting and orienteering)—
Last minute rehearsal, so I can’t make our walk. Can we try again tomorrow? Same time. Same place. Same me. Same you. Just a different day.
The disappointment is all mine,
Zelda
P.S.—J—maybe leave the ax?
“The ax?”
I jumped. Will was reading over my shoulder.
“Hey!” I yelped.
“There are two inside jokes by my count.” He smiled.
I folded the note and smiled a little, too. “So?”
“Are you afraid they’re going to be mad?”
“Of course not. I hope he—they’re disappointed. I sure am. But he won’t be angry.”
“They.” He slid my note into his pocket.
“Huh?”
“They won’t be angry. You said ‘he.’ ” Will raised knowing eyebrows at me, which I ignored.
“Okay. They won’t be angry.”
“Is he—are they nice to you?” Will fiddled with the buttons on his shawl-collar cardigan—which, I noticed, he’d been wearing an awful lot since I pointed out that Jonas liked him in it.
“Yes.”
“Do they insist you not eat with your friends?”
I lowered my eyes. “Will . . .”
“Do they try and control your behavior or belittle you or—”
“Will. I know Ben is not a good . . .”
“Person.”
“I was going to say boyfriend candidate,” I amended. “But I can handle him.”
“. . . Okay. But these Boy Scouts . . .”
“They are my friends,” I insisted. My stomach growled. “Murph has a girlfriend, Ricky has . . . rocks, and Jesse isn’t interested in me like that. Let’s go eat.”
“How do you know?” Will pressed.
“Because no one is,” I said flatly. “It turns out the only person who has ever wanted to be with me only wanted it to feel powerful.” My jazz hands tried to deflect some of the bitterness I felt.
“Z—”
“I’m tired of talking about this, Will. Let’s eat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
About halfway through dinner, I tapped my fingers on the table. How was I going to avoid being in a room alone with Ben? Ben had said it was a required rehearsal, but I was pretty sure it was only required for me. Maybe if I got there before him . . .
After inhaling dinner, I slipped away and dashed back to Gilda Radner. My heart thumped as I pulled open the closet where we had found the backup toilet bucket and located what I had been hoping for: a tool box. I took a flathead screwdriver and a hammer and for just a second, felt the weight of them in my hands. I shuddered and tucked them into my bag. Then I ran back to the Lodge.
Most everyone was still eating, but as I climbed the top stair to the rehearsal rooms floor, Sirena was waiting for me.
“Zelda, don’t go to this rehearsal.”
“It’s fine, Sirena,” I said, panting. “I figured it all out.” I fished out the screwdriver and hammer and held them up.
“You’re going to kill him?”
“Jesus, no. I’m taking the doors off.”
“What?”
I opened the door to the rehearsal room and jammed the tip of the screwdriver into the bolt securing the bottom hinge and whacked the back of the screwdriver with the hammer. Then I pushed down on the screwdriver and the bolt popped up. I pulled it out.
“If he can’t close the door, maybe he won’t . . . try anything.”
Sirena’s mouth dropped open.
“Help me with the one on top?” I asked.
“Wait. This is crazy.”
“Yes, it is, but I’m doing it.” I grabbed a rehearsal block, stood on it, and repeated the procedure. The bolt slid right out. “Steady the door?” I asked.
Sirena grabbed it as I hopped down.
“Okay, let’s put it in Rehearsal Room C.”
“He’ll just put it back on.”
“Ah, but he won’t because it’s going to be occupied.”
“By who?”
“Yes, Ellie. By who?”
My heart dropped. I looked at my watch. 6:45. He was early.
“What are you doing, Ellie?” he asked, smiling sweetly. “Are you maintenance in addition to being the talent?”
I opened and closed my mouth. Sirena was still holding the door.
“Let me get that for you.” He lifted the door out of Sirena’s hands and set it back into its hinges. “And the bolts?”
I just stood there. He plucked them out of my fist and tapped them into place. He swung the door back and forth.