Читать книгу Grey - Christi Whitney J. - Страница 9

I was pouring a glass of orange juice the next morning when Hugo shuffled into the kitchen. He was rarely ever up before nine, and it was only a little after seven. ‘Hey,’ I murmured, cautiously. Hugo was about as much of a morning person as I was.

He almost smiled, which I took as a good sign, so I proceeded to make myself a heaping bowl of cereal as he fumbled with the coffee maker. I curled up at the kitchen table, and after Hugo poured his coffee, he joined me.

‘So how’s the tat?’ he asked over the rim of his mug. I set down my spoon and pulled up the sleeve of my shirt. Hugo gave it a casual glance, and then a double take. He lowered his mug. ‘Whoa,’ he breathed, suddenly awake.

‘Okay, not the response I was expecting,’ I said, checking out my arm to see the cause. The top layer of skin had peeled away during the night, leaving the design intact, glaringly detailed against my pale skin. I shifted my glance to Hugo, bewildered. ‘What is it?’

Hugo took my wrist, held it closer, and examined the tattoo with an expert’s eye. ‘I’ve never seen a tat heal this fast,’ he commented. ‘There’s no redness, no swelling.’ He ran a finger over the dandelion. ‘Is it tender?’

‘Nope.’

Hugo dropped my arm – almost too quickly – it seemed. ‘Guess you’re a fast healer, kid.’

‘Or maybe I just heal faster than Gypsies do,’ I ventured. ‘We should run a study or something.’ My brother returned to his coffee, ignoring my attempt at humor. I gritted my teeth, still not completely over my feelings from the night before. Hugo had always been pretty guarded, but I didn’t think he’d keep me in the dark about something he considered this important. ‘Sorry,’ I said after a few minutes of silence, choosing to push away the left-out feeling. ‘It’s just that I’m having a hard time believing you guys are Gypsies.’

‘Why? Everyone has a heritage, Sebastian. We all come from somewhere.’

I jammed my spoon into my cereal. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re pretty lucky to know yours.’

I could feel Hugo’s eyes on me, but I didn’t press the issue; either about my foster brother’s Gypsy roots or the lack of my own. I was dangerously late for school already. I polished off a third bowl of cereal without saying another word. Hugo still hadn’t finished his coffee by the time I dumped my leftover milk and grabbed my backpack.

‘Well, I’ve gotta get to school.’

‘Yeah,’ Hugo replied, staring hard into his mug.

I paused in the doorway and tilted my head, trying to figure out if I was being paranoid or if Hugo was acting a little strange. With it being so early in the morning, it was difficult to tell. ‘Okay, well, I’ll see you this afternoon, I guess.’

Hugo snapped out of his preoccupied silence. ‘I expect a full report later on about this whole audition thing,’ he said with a wide grin.

I groaned. I’d almost forgotten about my impending torture. ‘Well, don’t get your hopes up. There won’t be much to report.’

As soon as school ended, I raided the vending machines. My nerves had returned, and with them, my appetite. Lunch had been the equivalent of eating rubber. I polished off three packs of crackers on my way to the auditorium, and was opening my fourth when a sharp pain cut through my wrist. I dropped the package, and wrapped my fingers around my tattoo. Maybe I wasn’t as quick a healer as Hugo thought.

I spread my fingers and examined the dandelion. It looked exactly the same as it had at the breakfast table, but my skin throbbed like bad sunburn. I shook out my arm, collected my spilled snack, and opened the front doors.

No one was in the lobby when I arrived, and I was glad for the chance to collect my thoughts. But just as I leaned against the wall, the door flew open and the stage manager – sporting a clipboard and an attitude – burst into the lobby.

‘Aren’t you in the 4 o’clock slot?’ he demanded.

‘Yeah,’ I replied.

‘Well, you’re late.’

‘What?’ The clock above the door read 3:50. ‘I thought…’

‘Never mind,’ he huffed, cutting me off. ‘The rest of your group’s already inside.’

I followed him in, and the door clanged shut behind me. The stage lights were on, but the rest of the auditorium was dark. The stage manager scurried down the aisle as I found a seat in the back row. On stage, Katie and Avery were in the middle of reading a scene. Avery’s booming voice echoed through the house. He was good.

Really good.

This was going to be embarrassing.

When they finished, Ms Lucian – who was seated in the second row – thanked them for their efforts. Katie spotted me as they exited, and she waved encouragingly. Avery punched me across the shoulder. I didn’t see Mitchell, but that was okay.

I would kill him later.

While Ms Lucian wrote in her notebook, a strained quiet enveloped the room. The anticipation felt like a vice cranking against my lungs, each moment increasing the pressure. It squeezed drops of sweat from my forehead, dampening my hair inside my hood. It was just a stupid audition. It wasn’t as if I was delivering a speech to the United Nations. Why were my hands shaking so much? Finally, Ms Lucian lifted her head and addressed the auditorium.

‘Josephine Romany.’

I craned my neck to see, though I really didn’t know who I was looking for. All I knew was her voice; the sweet, exotic smell of her perfume. And the awful, wonderful, twisting of my stomach as it made sailor knots beneath my T-shirt.

And then, I knew. My anxiety had nothing to do with the audition. I was nervous about her. Near the front, a girl rose and made her way down the aisle; movements fluid and smooth, like a professional artist. I braced myself against the seat as Josephine seemed to float up the stairs, out of the darkness and into the light.

Beautiful just didn’t cut it. The Bard himself would’ve stabbed me with his quill for my lack of words, but nothing seemed to fit her. She wasn’t fashion magazine beautiful, like the cheerleaders who sat in front of me in science with their dress-code-breaking skirts that made it hard to concentrate. Josephine Romany was something else, something outside of Sixes; from some other place and time.

Her full lips didn’t need lipstick, and the way she smiled made her whole face glow. She looked out over the audience, tucking a strand of hair the color of hazelnut coffee behind her ear. Thick brows lifted over the most amazing eyes I’d ever seen: large and luminously green. The glow of stage lights clung to her tanned skin.

As she stood waiting for instructions, the air around me hummed. It was the same electricity I’d experienced at the call-board, and it reminded me of the way I’d felt when Hugo had given me my tattoo – weirdly uncomfortable and alarmingly pleasant – all at the same time. I stared at her, fascinated, unable to look away.

‘Sebastian Grey.’

Ms Lucian peered into the audience, and I was horrified to realize she was searching for me. This was it. I had to go stand up there with this new girl who was doing all kinds of unexplained things to my insides. I stumbled out of my seat, head numb and legs wobbling as though I’d never used them before. I struggled to maintain some semblance of composure as I walked with heavy steps to my own funeral.

‘Break a leg, man,’ Brandon whispered as I passed.

A script was slapped into my hands and, suddenly, I found myself next to Josephine Romany. I felt euphorically sick.

‘Hello again, Sebastian,’ she said.

I wanted to make eye contact; to actually look into her face for the first time instead of just seeing her from afar, but I also wanted to remain upright and coherent, so I merely nodded in her direction. ‘Hey.’

Ms Lucian rapped her pencil against her notebook, demanding our attention. ‘All right, I want you both to turn to page sixteen.’ She waited while we found our places. ‘Josephine, if you would read for Hermia, and Sebastian, please read for Lysander.’

I’d read A Midsummer Night’s Dream more than once, and I knew that Lysander was one of the romantic leads. This was going to be terrible. The words swirled on the page. Just don’t pass out, I pleaded to myself.

‘Sebastian, are you all right?’ Ms Lucian studied my face carefully. ‘You don’t look as though you’re feeling well.’

I planted my feet, determined to see this through. ‘I’m good.’

‘All right then, let’s begin.’

Josephine had the first line. ‘Be it so, Lysander,’ she read in a low, clear voice. ‘Find you out a bed; for I upon this bank will rest my head.’

‘One turf shall serve as pillow for us both,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘One heart, one bed; two bosoms, and one troth.’

Somewhere, Shakespeare had to be laughing.

I was no Avery, but I survived the audition by keeping my head firmly buried in the script and my thoughts glued to the words on the page. I had never been happier than when Ms Lucian interrupted and thanked us. Josephine left the stage first, and I followed, my legs still feeling like liquefied jelly.

Josephine glided ahead of me in the aisle, tossing her hair over her shoulders as she walked, carefree and obviously unaffected by what had been fifteen of the most gut-wrenching minutes of my life. I felt more confused than ever. My palms were sweaty, my brain was gooey, and I had all the coordination of a two-year-old. What was going on with me? Auditions were over, and I’d seen the elusive Josephine Romany.

The mystery was over.

So why did I still feel so weird?

Everyone had gathered in the lobby. Katie whirled and clutched Josephine’s arm as soon as we appeared. I hovered near the door, still feeling like an idiot, but unable to take my eyes off the new girl. I rubbed at my wrist, which was throbbing to the beat of my pulse.

‘Oh my gosh!’ Katie cooed. ‘You were so good! You’re totally going to get Titania!’

‘You were great too,’ Josephine replied cheerfully.

‘That was a lot harder than I thought it would be,’ Katie went on, barely drawing a breath. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t wet myself right there.’

Brandon jumped in. ‘Aw, you were great, Katie. You too, Josephine.’ He spotted me. ‘And you were pretty decent, I guess.’

They all looked at me then, and I smiled, fully aware that Josephine was watching as well, even though I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze. ‘Thanks for the encouragement, Brandon.’

‘Ah, it was good for you, Sebastian,’ he said. ‘Who knows? Maybe Ms Lucian will take pity and actually give you a part.’

‘Stranger things have happened,’ I replied.

Josephine was still looking at me, and I knew I should’ve said something to her, but what would’ve made sense? I couldn’t reverse time, and I was pretty sure I’d destroyed my first impression. I wanted to melt into the lobby’s concrete wall.

Katie saved me from any further embarrassment by pulling her away from the group. ‘Well, we’ll see you guys later. We’re heading to the mall.’

I watched them go, feeling as if I was in a trance. I had total tunnel vision on Josephine as she opened the door and slid inside Katie’s car. But as soon as they pulled out of the parking lot my head cleared, and the world refocused. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, hoping I hadn’t looked as stupid as I’d felt.

‘I gotta give you credit, Sebastian,’ said Mitchell, approaching me. ‘I didn’t think you’d actually go through with the audition.’

I shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m always up for a challenge.’

Avery attempted a serious expression. ‘Did you have fun?’

‘Oh, tons. It ranked right up there with chickenpox and root canals.’

‘You’ve gotta stop taking yourself so seriously, man,’ Avery declared. ‘What’s life without a little risk? And you lucked out today. You got to read with Josephine.’ He dropped his arm around my shoulder. ‘What about that?’

I shrugged him off. ‘So?’

‘Oh, come on. She’s pretty hot.’

‘Definitely,’ agreed Mitchell.

‘And with that whole carnival girl vibe she’s got going on…’

‘That’s enough,’ I snapped.

Avery looked stunned. ‘Excuse me?’

I felt a rush of heat as a frightening surge of anger blazed through me; the kind that made me want to hit something. I paused, shocked at my own emotion. I didn’t get like this. Indignant, sure. Even ticked off, on occasion. But nothing like this.

This was raw, barely controllable, anger.

I took a deep breath. It had to be leftover nerves from the audition, that’s all. I took a few more breaths and pressed my fist against my leg. Something inside me finally released, and the harsh emotion disappeared as quickly as it had come.

‘Sorry,’ I said, putting on an easy smile and playing down my reaction. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go home and, you know, recover from this audition thing. Maybe get a little therapy. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?’ I ignored their stares as I pushed open the lobby doors and rushed out.

What was wrong with me?