Code: 16B

Chapter Three

Three

    That afternoon, rehearsals were almost a disaster. The fight scenes were off beat, as well as our “Thriller” dance (our own tribute to Michael Jackson even though a year has already passed) for the party scene, and to top it all off, some of the people with important parts in the show don’t even remember their lines. And for that I almost wanted to scream my head off, and go off on an angry rant on said people, especially since we have one week until we open. Rumor has it that the student matinees will sell out, which would be a first as far as I know.

    I tried to talk to Missy during rehearsals, but she’s been busy helping anyone who needed help with their costumes, or their lines. She even saved me from having a cursing rampage when I had some trouble changing from my Sister John costume—a basic nun’s outfit with a large cross—to my Prince (or as we call, the Queen since I’m obviously a girl) costume—black dress pants and a nice blazer with a sheriff badge and whistle—by simply suggesting that I have my pants under my nun costume so I won’t get tangled up when I’m changing in the dark, and in the wings before the final scene. Therefore, preventing me from another round of constantly dropping the F-bomb when I’m taking off the wimple.

     So I would have to call her, if she’s not busy with the whole party-planning thing.

    When I entered my mom’s SUV, I was glad that my homework is already done. But as I closed the door, I was caught off guard when my mom begins to ask me about my day.

    “How was school?” she asked as she pulls out of the parking lot, and takes the short ride back home.

    “You know, the usual.” I said, hoping she’ll accept my fake attempt at nonchalance. I begin to stare out the window and hope she won’t scrutinize me whenever we come to a stoplight. Then, I mentally sigh in relief when I don’t hear a follow up question.

    It wasn’t long until mom pulls into the driveway of our two story home where I share with my parents and my older sister, Amber. I exit the car with my things in tow, and immediately head upstairs to my bedroom with the pretense of doing homework, but I had other things on my mind, other more important things. I just hope that Missy’s home, and since she drives herself to and from school, and that we live in the same neighborhood, just a block away…yeah she should be home by now.

    I quickly dialed the number that I’ve texted so many times before, praying that she’ll answer.

    “Hello?” Missy’s familiar voice sounded on the other end of the line, her tone sounded confused.

    “Hey Missy, what’s up?” I said, hoping that it’ll break the ice before I get on with what I believe is the most embarrassing part of my life. Something I can’t even share with Amber, not even my own parents. I need to talk to someone with more experience with boys, and I just hope that Missy can help.

    “Not much, just trying to clean up the house for the party, and I now what you’re thinking, it’s only one week away but my mom is insisting that I should keep it clean so I won’t have to do it at the last minute.” She said with a laugh, but then she quickly adds, “What about you?”

    I swallow the hard lump in my throat before I finally get up the courage to say, “I kind of need to talk to you about something.”

    “Really, what’s wrong?”

    “Well…” I pause, not sure of what I should say, but I finally swallow my pride when I said, “I need your…expertise on boys.”

    “Who’s the boy?” she says sounding more like she’s confessing a top-secret plan, and I couldn’t help but giggle at her tone.

    “You promise not to tell anyone, not a single soul, and especially not the other seniors.” I begged.