Trinity (52)

Pearl is sitting with her feet propped up on the bake sale table, even after I point out that feet and food should not be near each other. She counters back that it’s fine, because there isn’t any food on it yet; the donations from other students are still in the cafeteria kitchen and Henry and Jackson are going to be bringing all the things the three of them baked. They’d used Jackson’s family’s industrial kitchen, which was smart, and I’m sure it was a bonus to Pearl that they didn’t have to use her mom’s kitchen, despite the fact that it’s probably just as good.

Pearl catches me still staring at her shoes on the table--chunky red tennis shoes--and she just snickers.

“Shouldn’t we put the food out?” I ask as we hear a loud round of applause. We’re stationed in the hallway that connects the gym and the cafeteria, so every once in a while we can hear the music or unintelligible speaking of one of the acts, and then the telltale round of applause at the end, signaling one less act until mine.

My stomach flips and oh dear, I might be sick. It might be worth it to pretend to be sick.

Lazily, Pearl twists a finger around the end of her blonde ponytail. “No, we’re supposed to leave it until just before the halfway mark--intermission.”

I just nod and twist a finger around a loose red thread coming off of the bottom hem of my shirt. I don’t even really like this shirt, it’s just one of the few clean plain tees I had. I just wish it wasn’t so bright.

Pearl leans back in her chair, her gaze on the ceiling. "Selfishly, I'd like you to stay here instead of reading your essay." She pauses, like she’s about to say more but decides not to. Still looking up, she eventually adds, “But that’s just me.”

I smile lightly at her. "Selfishly, I’d like that too," I tell her honestly, and she turns her wide eyes to mine and rewards me with a mischievous smile.

She pulls her feet off the table--finally--and raises a brow. “We could–”

“Oh, of course you’re out here. What are you doing? Maggie says you disappeared!” Mary Kate has found us, Erica in tow.

They’re already dressed in costumes for their performance. It’s ‘The Wizard of Oz’, and Mary Kate is in a cute--and quite short--pink dress and wings, making her Glinda. Next to her, Erica is wearing all gray with a tinfoil hat. And if I’m remembering correctly, Maggie is Dorothy, Rachel is the Cowardly Lion, Becca is the scarecrow, and if Charles Lee is still meant to be helping, I think he’s the actual Wizard of Oz.

I glance at Pearl, then look down at the ground. I shouldn’t have left, I should’ve gone back to the gym. “I just… Nothing. I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, deflating.

“Ok, good. Maggie needs to change into her costume still. And you need to do the programs at the door in her place while we’re up there.” Mary Kate’s already spinning around to head back to the gym.

I glance at Erica, who’s trying to adjust her hat to stay perched atop her braids, all of which she’s pinned to her head. “What about Abbey? She’s not in your play, right?”

Erica squints her eyes, thinking. “Uh, no. She’s not. But she’s also not here, so.”

“Right,” I reply, standing. “Coming, then.”

Erica squeals excitedly. “Oh, I’m so excited! Maybe next year you’ll be in a play with us?” We start down the hall towards the gym.

“I don’t really like performing,” I tell Erica. I glance behind me, and Pearl is still sitting, her feet propped back onto the table, her eyes on the ceiling again.

“Neither does Rachel!” Erica chirps gleefully.

I pause. “Pearl? Are you coming?”

I see her close her eyes, then open them. A smile appears on her face. “Someone’s got to man the bake sale table! You go on, I’m fine here.”

It’s obvious that, though she is fine there, she’d prefer not to be there alone. But I just give her a lingering look, then follow Erica back to the gym just as another round of applause rings through the hallway.

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According to the programs that I’m holding, Maggie and Mary Kate and everyone are the ninth act. And after them--I skim a finger down the list and onto the next page--it’s only eighteen more until mine, labeled only as ‘Metaphors in Color’, the name of my essay, and then my name next to it.

As if anyone really wanted to hear about the metaphors I’d pulled out of our assigned readings and interpreted. I bring the stack of programs up and hit myself in the forehead with them.

I’m still hiding behind them when I hear someone stop in the gym doorway next to me, and I startle, holding the pamphlets out for them to take one.

But it’s only Pearl, her wide eyes sparkling. “I can help hand those out,” she says lowly, and I hand her half a stack. We stand there side by side and watch the stage as a group of fifth graders poorly sing a song I’ve never heard before.

.

It turns out that Erica, of all people, is really good at acting. I’m surprised that she wasn’t given the role of Dorothy instead of the Tin Man. Maggie, on the other hand, was clearly nervous, and overacted, saying all her lines loudly and robotically and using sweeping hand movements. It also turns out that Charles Lee did not, in fact, help them after all, which is probably for the best. I do wonder if Maggie’s still seeing him, though.

It was fun to see them all on stage. My friends. I feel like I’ve never properly acknowledged that, but of course they’re my friends; we see each other all the time. I forget that I’ve even been to Maggie’s house.

Seeing them up there, though, just added to my nerves. I kind of wish I was still out in the hallway, at the bake sale table, oblivious to the crowds of parents and students in here.

“Hey,” comes a hissing voice to my left. I turn to find Katherine, very professional-looking in a dark high-necked dress and blazer, her signature cross necklace glinting at her neck. She looks like she’s ready for a business meeting.

I notice Katherine’s eyes narrow when she looks over at Pearl, and she angles her body so that her back’s in Pearl’s direction, closing her out of the conversation.

“Maggie mentioned that you were nervous, which, like duh.” She laughs, so I do too, but it’s clipped and humorless. “Anyway, I know you get stage fright and all that, so it might help if you tell me which part you’ll be reading.”

I glance between Katherine and Pearl, because I’ve just realized I haven’t even mentioned to Pearl that Katherine wants me to read her story. “I’m not sure how that would help…” I say hesitantly.

Katherine just scoffs. “It’s just in case you go all deer-in-headlights. I’ve seen you do it before in, like, every class presentation ever.” She laughs again, and I can feel my face heat.

“Just leave her alone, Katherine,” Pearl says from behind her. Her mouth is set in a hard line.

Katherine steps back and glares between the two of us. “I’m trying to help. Which chapter are you reading?” she demands.

A parent nearby shushes us as another act steps onto the stage, and Katherine glares at him too.

I open my mouth, but then look at Pearl. “I…” I can’t say anything to Pearl here, because then Katherine might figure out that ‘my’ story’s not really mine, but if I say something to Katherine then Pearl will be confused and also maybe angry again, and either way I can’t win and--

“It’s an essay, Katherine, just chill,” Pearl says, then steps closer to my side and puts a comforting hand on my arm.

“Oh dear. You’re not reading the essay, are you? I thought we agreed on the book--your journal-y thing.” Katherine crosses her arms.

I can feel Pearl’s eyes on me, her hand pulling back. “What?”

Her voice is level, but what if, under that, she’s angry. What if she thinks I’ve betrayed her again. No, she doesn’t think that. I’m overthinking this. I am. It’s nerves. I’ve just got to calm down.

I blurt, “I’m not reading the story. I’m not reading anything. Tell Mrs. Vena to take me off the list.” The words tumble out of my mouth, and I feel a rush of relief, but also an underlying wave of anxiety.

Katherine gasps, and the same parent as before shoots her a look. “Are you kidding me?” she hisses.

I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath, but I’m not kidding. Pearl’s right. I don’t have to do this. “Yes. Take me off the list.”

And just like that, Katherine Davies is speechless.

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(first part: https://theprose.com/post/432343/trinity)

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(previous part: https://theprose.com/post/465507/pearl-51)

(next part: https://theprose.com/post/466659/trinity-53)