Free Exit Stage Left by Gail Nall Page B

over the heavy, colorful orbs. I suppose I look like I need some peace and inspiration. “Thanks. I’ll see you at the Throw-In.”
    “The what?” Necklace Girl asks. But before I can answer, she’s humming something completely out of tune and sketching on a notepad.
    “They’re . . . interesting,” I say to Harrison as we walk back to our friends. I try to imagine myself as a member of the Bohemian Brigade, wearing flowy, colorful clothes all the time and never being entirely sure where I am or what day of the week it is.
    “Nice necklace,” he says.
    “Thank you,” I reply in my best floaty voice.
    “You know, we don’t have to become one of them to be artists.”
    “Says you.” I gesture at his jeans and wrinkle-free oxford shirt. “If I’m going take up pottery, I’m going all the way. Good-bye Theater Casey, and hello Potter Casey. Hey, do you think there are any art colleges that give scholarships to late bloomers with iffy grades?”
    “Here comes your boyfriend,” Harrison says instead, as we rejoin our table.
    I look around so fast I almost give myself whiplash. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I say automatically. “But maybe now I can get the truth.”
    “Why don’t you just ask Amanda?” Harrison says.
    “Hey, everyone.” Trevor’s velvet voice wafts over the table.
    I rearrange my new giant necklace and say, as normally as possible, “Hi, Trevor.”
    He gives me the smile that made me nearly lose my mind freshman year.
    “Ready for rehearsal?” I ask.
    “The rest of us don’t have to be off-book yet even if you are.” And that would be him getting defensive, which is about how half of our conversations go.
    I didn’t say you had to is about to slip off my tongue, but I swallow the words, flip my too-short braid over my shoulder, and say, “Of course not” with a pasted-on smile. Picking a fight is not going to get me the answers I want right now.
    He softens, and I try not to look into his big brown eyes.
    “So, hey, Amanda.” Trevor’s gaze shifts from me to her. “Here’s that movie I was telling you about yesterday. Let me know what youthink.” He hands her a DVD.
    I watch as Amanda gives him a shy smile. She reaches out and takes it from him. Their fingers touch, just ever so slightly. I fight the urge to jump up and grab the movie.
    “Thanks.” She’s so quiet I can barely hear her.
    “Bye, Casey. See you guys later.” Trevor waves at the table and leaves.
    I narrow my eyes at Amanda. He’s lending her movies now? Her family has every available streaming service. It’s not like she probably couldn’t find the movie in all that—she doesn’t need a DVD.
    But even worse, they had a heart-to-heart talk about it? That’s it, I have to know what happened yesterday. If she was just honest about it, maybe I wouldn’t even care. Maybe.
    Amanda puts the disc in her bag and goes back to eating, like nothing has happened. “Where’d you get that necklace?” she asks.
    “From a friend. So, um, what was that about with Trevor?” I ask her as I break a cracker into my cold soup.
    “Nothing, really,” Amanda says. “He’s just lending me this movie he likes.”
    “Oh.” I drop my voice. “It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend. I saw you guys walking out to the parking lot together yesterday.” I side-eye Amanda to see her reaction.
    She smooths her jeans. Aha. Not good. Flattening out nonexistent wrinkles in her clothes is her go-to nervous tic. “He needed a ride home. I wouldn’t have offered, Case, but he asked me. It seemed really rude to say no since it was on my way.”
    I brush cracker crumbs from my fingers and consider my options. Direct seems like the best approach. “Do you like him?”
    “I . . . no, of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Amanda smooths her shirt. Definitely not good if she’s moved on to other articles of clothing.
    “Well, it wouldn’t matter. I certainly don’t want him back.” I dropped Trevor for a reason.