Free Exit Stage Left by Gail Nall Page A

fact that she’s keeping it secret makes me pretty sure that 1) something happened between them, or 2) she wishes something would happen. This whole thing is weird. Because since when does Amanda like Trevor? My Trevor?
    “Is everything all right?” Amanda asks.
    “Yeah,” I lie. “But I’m over people picking on my clothes. I’m a big girl. I can wear whatever I want.”
    Amanda looks at me for a second, like she isn’t sure who I am. “If something’s wrong, you can tell me,” she says in a low voice.
    “I’m fine.” I know I should ask her about Trevor and get it over with, but part of me wants her to own up to it without me pushing.
    “Is it about the play?”
    “No.” And that’s actually the truth for a change.
    “Is it your dad?”
    “No.”
    “Promise?” Amanda asks.
    I draw an X over my chest and do halfhearted jazz hands.
    She gives me a slight, fake smile. I can tell she’s still worried. I don’t say anything else, and she turns back to Kelly.
    Harrison drops his lunch bag on the other side of the table. He pulls out an apple, motions to me, and says, “Come on.”
    “Where are you going?” Chris asks.
    “We have to talk to Alexa,” Harrison says before he takes a bite of the apple.
    “Alexa? Bohemian Brigade Alexa?” Chris searches the cafeteria until his eyes land on the table in the middle. It’s hard to miss. The Bohemian Brigade don’t know the meaning of the word muted when it comes to clothes.
    I should fit in perfectly.
    I follow Harrison through the crowd, barely hearing Chris ask, “Why are they going to talk to Alexa?”
    We pass Trevor’s table, and I try to catch his eye. If I can see how he reacts, maybe then I’ll know the truth. Of course, he’s lookingdown at his food and doesn’t even see me. Instead, I get a weird little grin from Johnny Grimaldi, as his brother kicks him and says, “Don’t be a fuckwit.”
    “Casey, come on.” Harrison looks back over his shoulder.
    I refocus my attention on the table straight ahead. Alexa’s in the middle, wild curly hair and hot pink dress over black leggings. “How exactly do you know her?” I ask Harrison. I mean, I know of Alexa, but I don’t know her.
    “Our parents are friends.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Yup,” he says. “They’re both equally uptight. They get along great.”
    “Huh.” Somehow, I pictured Alexa living in a yurt with parents who make goat cheese and think of school as optional.
    “Hey, Lex,” Harrison says once we reach the table.
    “Harry!” She leaps up and gives him a bear hug.
    First, Harry ? Second, how in the world did I not know that Harrison and Alexa were such good friends?
    Alexa nudges her friends down the table. Harrison and I slip into seats, smack in the middle of the Bohemian Brigade.
    “I like your skirt,” the girl next to me says in a dreamy voice.
    “Oh . . . thanks? I like your, um, necklace.” I point to the giant beaded necklace the girl has wrapped twice around her neck.
    She gives me a floaty smile. Her T-shirt is covered in splatters of blue paint. I knew I should’ve added that finishing touch.
    I’ve completely missed what Harrison’s said to Alexa, but I catchher asking, “What kind of art?”
    “Um, what are the options?” Harrison replies.
    Alexa smiles. “What aren’t the options? There are so many ways to express yourself. Charcoal, fabrics, pottery—we’re having a Throw-In on Friday. You should come! Both of you.”
    “We don’t have rehearsal. We’ll be there!” I say, maybe a little too enthusiastically. The guy straight across from me, who was—what? Asleep? Passed out? Dead?—jerks up. Necklace Girl reaches over the table and pats his hand.
    “We’ll see you Friday, then,” Alexa says. She gives Harrison another hug as we stand up to leave.
    Necklace Girl unwinds the beads from her neck. “Here,” she says, lowering the strand over my head. “They’ll bring you peace and inspiration.”
    “Oh . . .” I run my fingers