Cinderella Sidelined (17 page)

"Stop pretending like there's nothing between us, Jane!"

Miss Halpern whips her head around to stare at the prince. "You may want to be known as Alex," she says fiercely. "But I'm Miss Halpern to you. We're not ever going to be on that kind of a casual basis."
 

A silence settles over the stage as Miss Halpern and Prince Alex stare at each other, each refusing to blink or appear weak to the other.

The prince speaks first.

"Prove it."
 

Miss Halpern blinks up at him. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
 

"Prove that there's nothing between us," he says.

"And just how do you suppose I do that?"

"Kiss me."
 

Miss Halpern's mouth drops open but she quickly recovers. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she scoffs. "Very clever, of course."
 

But Prince Alex isn't ruffled by Miss Halpern's haughty response.

"You're confident there's no spark," he says evenly. "I think you're lying to yourself. But I assure you of this. Kiss me once and tell me you feel nothing, and you'll never have to speak to me again. One time, Jane."
 

Miss Halpern struggles as her heart starts to thump rapidly against her chest, her breathing coming out a little funny, and she prays the prince doesn't notice the changes.
 

"Is that a promise?"

Prince Alex stares into her eyes. "It is."
 

Miss Halpern considers this for only a moment before she takes one strong step forward, the palms of her hands growing damp with beads of sweat. She places a hand gently against the prince's shoulder as only inches separate their bodies.

I blink twice before I kiss him; it no longer feels like it's a moment between Jane and Alex.

It's me and Russ.

My heart is going a million miles a minute as I try to stuff myself back into character so this doesn't feel any weirder than it already does.

This is Miss Halpern, this is Miss Halpern, this is Miss Halpern, I repeat to myself as I lean in closer and closer to Russ.

To Prince Alex.

And then their lips meet ever so briefly, nothing more than a flutter, before she pulls back. The prince, however, leans in and kisses her again, a real kiss this time, with sparks and fireworks and tingles shooting up and down her spine, from the tip of her neck all the way to her toes.
 

Miss Halpern ends the kiss and smooths down the front of her wrinkled dress.
 

"Just as I suspected," she says. "I trust you'll uphold your end of our bargain, Prince."
 

He looks stricken as he watches Miss Halpern turn to walk away.
 

"Wait!" he calls out.

She stops just before exiting the stage, still holding the tomato.

"You never told me if you felt anything," he says weakly.

Miss Halpern can't keep the small smile from forming on her face. "Your promise," she says. "Keep it."
 

***

"Even you don't believe that," Lana says as I pull my backpack out of the locker I keep it in backstage.
 

"What?" I ask, tucking my script back into my bag and getting to my feet. It's been almost half an hour since the whole kiss thing with Russ, and I haven't seen him since Miss Halpern danced off the stage, leaving a poor, confused Prince Alex behind.

Lana closes her locker. "That it's just acting."
 

"I don't understand."
 

"What you said to Mary before you guys did the scene." Lana rolls her eyes like she can't believe she has to remind me. "That you don't care about kissing Russ because it's just part of the play. You don't really believe that's true."

"Sure I do," I say, swallowing hard.
 

Lana studies me and I feel like I'm shrinking under her sharp stare. "I've been doing plays for a long time, Emma, and I've had my fair share of onstage romances. Sometimes, it really is just about acting. It's like the kiss is nice but it's not gonna curl your toes. But every now and then, you've gotta kiss a guy that makes you sweat a little. It's obvious which one it is with you and Russ."
 

I shrug, hoping Tomato Thompson doesn't strike again. "You're right. It was polite. But I have a boyfriend and I didn't feel anything with Russ."
 

"Okay, Emma. I guess you're just one heck of an actress, then. Because we all saw sparks."
 

I take a deep breath, trying to keep steady until I can get away from Lana. "Sure you don't need new glasses?"
 

She smirks. "See you tomorrow, Emma."
 

And then I'm alone, but I'm pretty sure my mind is racing fast enough for two people.
 

There's only one thing I know for sure right now:

I'm in way over my head, and I have no idea how to get out.
 

***

It doesn't take long to see that Russ' car isn't in the parking lot when I finally make my way out here, which is weird because he's been giving me rides home almost every night after practice.

Great.

I whip out my phone and call Blaine to see if he's still around with the team, but he doesn't answer. I shoot a quick text to him and get an almost immediate response:
 

'Sorry, babe. Busy. Hit you back soon.'

Fan-freakin'-tastic.

With a sigh, I call my dad, and he agrees to meet me down at the school, but it's going to take him a solid fifteen minutes to get here. I drop down onto a bench outside the building to wait, and pull out the script to hopefully get some more lines memorized.

I'm well past the now-infamous kissing scene with Prince Alex and finally feel like I'm starting to decompress a little from all the craziness of this afternoon when I hear it.

An all-too-familiar laugh followed by an obnoxious, high-pitched giggle.

I swing my head around and there they are.

A tall guy with a mop of blonde hair has one arm draped across the shoulders of a small girl with long, straight blonde hair. She has one arm wrapped around his waist and I watch, eyes glued to them, as he drops his head and lightly kisses her.

She stops walking and laughs, and he wraps his other arm around her, enveloping her in a giant hug, and hits her with a real kiss this time, deep and passionate and familiar.

My brain buzzes as it tries to process what's happening here.

Blaine.

With his lips locked on another girl.

"Real busy, huh?" I snap before thinking.

They break apart, Blaine's face immediately clouding with guilt, which is quickly replaced by horror. I glare at the girl and it takes a second before I realize it's the same chick from the pep rally earlier today.

I'm still not sure where I've seen her before that, though.

"Emma!" Blaine's voice is a heck of a lot more shrill than it normally is, and the resemblance to Minnie Mouse probably would have made me laugh under any other circumstance.
 

"I was so worried about telling you that I have to fake kiss Russ and look at you! Look at you!" I scream.
 

Blaine looks at me like I'm insane. "Fake kiss? Who's Russ?"

I throw up my hands. "We need to talk." My eyes cut over to the girl, who has an infuriating self-satisfied smirk on her stupid face. "Now."
 

Blaine's quiet for a few seconds, then he leans down to whisper something to her. I tap my foot impatiently against the sidewalk.

"I only have ten minutes," I snap.

He holds up his hand as if to silence me and my first instinct is to inform him that he has a heck of a lot of groveling to do for being so rude.

Only then I remember I just watched him kiss another girl and realize he isn't my boyfriend anymore.

So that's swell.
 

The girl nods and turns and walks back in the direction the two of them came from and Blaine slowly comes over to me like he's marching in a funeral procession.

I smirk.

"So," I say.

"Emma, I am so sorry," he blurts out. "I never meant for you to -- "

"For me to what?" I cut in. "For me to see you with her?"
 

He blushes and it shocks me to realize I'm probably right. "Jeez, Blaine. That's real nice. Great way to treat your girlfriend of the last two years."
 

He shakes his head. "It just happened, Em. Honestly. I didn't plan it and I didn't know I wanted it. But then Jasmine was there and you weren't around much anymore and we got to talking and she started coming out for pizza with the guys and -- "

Blaine's still rambling on but something triggers in my mind.

Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine.

Oh, my God. My eyes feel like they're about to bug out of my brain. Jasmine!
 

From Andrea Harris' party.

My teammate Jasmine. The girl who begged me to coach her at volleyball is stepping out on me with my boyfriend!

What the heck?

The same girl who walked into the house a few minutes after Blaine had come inside with red cheeks and messy hair and a disheveled tank top and oh, my God!

At least all the dots are connecting, even if I'm not liking where they're leading.

I blink rapidly as if this is going to help me clear out my spinning head.
 

"Blaine, look," I say, suddenly feeling as if I haven't slept in years. "Save the excuses. I don't want to hear them. Nothing you can say is a good enough reason to justify what you did."

"I know," he agrees, which surprises me. "But I -- "

"Nope. No but's. Nothing. You could tell me you did this because you're bored or because she's prettier than I am or because you hate the fact that I'm in the play or you just want to date an athlete, not someone who's broken," I say, holding up my cast. "Or you could say it's just because you don't love me anymore. Whatever the reason, I don't want to know. It'll never be good enough to explain what you did."

I stop and take a deep breath, but I know this might be the only shot I get to tell him exactly what I think.

"And you know what?" I continue. "Maybe it doesn't matter to me because I've been thinking about us lately. It hasn't felt the way it used to feel. I've been trying to ignore it but it kept nagging at me, making me wonder if we're right to be together." I press my lips together and try to smile. "At least now I don't have to wonder anymore."
 

"Emma, I'm not dating Jasmine."
 

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter."
 

"What are you saying?"
 

"You really can't figure that out, Blaine? I just caught you kissing another girl. It doesn't really matter if she's your girlfriend or not. You. Were. Kissing."
 

"Didn't you say something about kissing that Russ dude? How is this any different? We don't need to break up."
 

"Yes, we do," I say firmly. "And how is it the same? Russ and I are in a play together. We're acting. Get it now?"

"Whatever, Emma." He shakes his head. "I can't believe you'd throw it all away over a kiss."
 

I laugh bitterly. "You're joking. You have to be joking."
 

"Em -- "

"Enough, Blaine," I snap. "It's over. We're finished."
 

He opens his mouth to protest, but my dad's car pulls up along the curb then, and I jump in as quickly as I can, ready for Dad to floor it out of the parking lot.

Instead, he decides to be friendly to Blaine for, like, the third time in his entire life.

Great, Dad.

He rolls down the passenger side window and leans over me. "Hey, Blaine," he calls out. "How's it going?"
 

I stare straight ahead out the front window, refusing to look at him, so I have no idea how Blaine reacts to my dad's unexpected politeness.

"Uh, good, Mr. T.," he says.
 

"Need a ride?" Dad asks, and I cringe, hoping Blaine isn't dumb enough to accept, but not totally sure after what I've just witnessed.
 

"Um, no, I'm okay," Blaine responds, and I let a small sigh of relief squeak out.
 

Dad nods and sits back in the driver's seat. "Take care, son," he says, pressing the button and the window rolls back up.

Phew.

It's not until Dad pulls safely away from the curb that I realize Blaine and I are really over, and I'm not crying.

And I don't even want to.
 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Where's the weapon?" Russ asks when he sees me in the hall Sunday morning before play practice.

It's the first time I've seen him since The Kiss, and I'm determined to act normally.

If he's not going to acknowledge it, well, then, neither am I.
 

I beam, happy someone's noticed before I have to point it out. "Got it chopped off yesterday."

"That's too bad," he says. "I never got a chance to sign it."

"It's bad enough I had to figure out how to match it to my clothes every morning. I didn't need a ton of ugly signatures scrawled all over it in a million different colors, too."
 

He laughs. "Bet it felt nice to dress yourself today."
 

"You don't realize how much you take for granted until you can barely go to the bathroom on your own."
 

"When you are hitting the court next?" he asks, and I'm pretty sure I detect a hint of worry in his voice. Ashland's volleyball team is cruising toward a third straight state championship appearance, and there's a distinct possibility that game is on a collision course with the play's Opening Night.
 

I shrug. "Haven't thought about it."
 

He nods, then fidgets slightly with the skin around his thumb as we walk quietly toward the auditorium. "So, uh, I heard what happened."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

He looks uncomfortable. "Uh, with Blaine. And you. After school on Friday."