Chapter Ten
The next day I woke up determined to stop with the pain meds and get to school early so I could make sure to find Hana. She was backstage with Quinn where we usually met up before class. Quinn was gathering her backpack, and Hana was stacking a can on her can pyramid by the stage door.
“Hana, I’m so incredibly sorry about the other night. Can you please forgive me? There’s no excuse, but I was so—”
Hana gave me a Jedi wave to make me stop talking. “Didn’t you get my email?”
“Email? Since when do you email me?”
“Since I acted like a baby and stormed out on you. And since your stepbrother asked me on a date. I needed to write all the best words, which I now see was a huge waste of time. Figures.”
Relief. Plus, a lumpy mix of confusion. “So, you and Craig went on date? You’re dating? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend? Did you make out?”
“Hold up. No to all the above. I was asked on a date, for tomorrow, after our second show at the Mash-Up. The rest, we shall see. Really, you should ask Quinn about her news.”
Quinn clicked her tongue and gave Hana a shove.
“What is it? I want to know.”
“I was going to tell you when we were at your apartment before everything got chaotic, but Owen asked me out after sketch rehearsal, and I said yes.” She did the clappy-hands she did when she was excited. “He’s about the funniest guy I’ve met, I mean, except for the puns, and he’s so goofy and blunt and cute and—”
“What? Are you two kidding me?” I went to throw my arms up in the air, but since they were attached to metal, they kind of flopped to the side like lazy albatross wings as I balanced on one foot. “Are you four going on a double date?”
Quinn said, “Oh, weird, no,” as Hana stared at me like that was the worst idea in the history of humankind.
I plopped down on the couch, adjusting to these epic, overnight changes. “What is going on? Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy for you both and want every detail. I’m just kind of shocked. I mean, is Cupid on a rampage?”
Quinn twisted her lips and narrowed her eyes. “When you put it that way, it does sound crazy. But let’s not kid ourselves about why we all decided to form the sketch group together. I mean, it’s not like Las Palomas del Disco is high art. It’s fun, sure, but mostly an excuse, don’t you think? To hangout? And you’re the one who has already kissed Jason.”
“Once.” I let out an exasperated breath. “And after Tuesday night, I’m pretty sure he’ll never want anything to do with me again.”
I waited. They both stared at me, their mouths turning to unhelpful lines.
“Uh, why aren’t you two reassuring me that I wasn’t a deranged and frightening beast, and that any boy who had just lost his mom to cancer would jump at the chance to get involved with a girl on crutches boasting a suspicious tumor and an unknown future?”
Blinking eyes. Unhelpful mouth lines.
My phone pinged. “It’s Jason,” I announced, like it was a victory, and they let out sighs of relief that made me even more annoyed with them…and my life.
Jason: Important question…
I sat up, full alert.
Me: Okay…
Jason: You’re still coming to the Mash-Up, right?
All the exhales.
Me: I think no…kind of hard to do improv on crutches.
Jason: But I haven’t given anyone a piggyback on stage in so long.
I laughed thinking about the last show.
“Yo, Ellie, bated breath over here—what’s he saying?” Hana asked.
“He’s asking if I’m still going to perform in the show tomorrow.”
“On crutches?” Quinn crinkled her nose.
“It’d be insane. But it’s a good sign he’s asking, right?”
“Right,” they answered in unison.
Me: Hmm…tempting. But I’m gonna go with crutches = no improv for me.
Jason: Nonsense. Crutches = automatic props.
My smile spread. The second bell rang. “You two should head to class. I’m going to be late, but I have an excuse.” I motioned my head to my crutches.
“We could make the improvising on crutches work. You should do it,” Quinn said.
“I vote for it for the spectacle alone,” Hana said as the two walked out to the bustle of the hallway.
I waved bye, focused back on my phone and typed,
Dynamics of crutch-prov… Go.
Crutch-prov. Nice.
Different rules?
Same commandments of improv, plus a bonus: Thou shalt not bludgeon thy scene partner with a crutch.
:) Or, thou shalt not use thy crutch to force thy scene partner to do the limbo.
Never. :)
We riffed back and forth before we typed our good-byes, and my corset of worry loosened.