Page 20 of Hale Yeah, It’s You

Helping Mrs. Betty with the design plans for the set pieces is a lot more work than I imagined, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t loving it. The art and woodshop students are full of fun ideas and talent, and the excitement for it all is contagious.

For days, the students have shared their plans with me, drawing out sketches of Juliet’s famous balcony and the grand hall, their ideas for a bustling market scene, and the colors and costumes they have in mind.

It’s refreshing to see teenagers' passion for something other than their phones and social lives. I’ve been given a backstage pass into a part of Alayna’s life that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise.

I wonder if this is the part Roman enjoys most about working with students. Seeing them apart from their homes and family, turning into the future adults who will help the world turn. Teaching has never been something I considered as a career, but now I understand why so many find joy in it.

By Friday, we narrow the ideas down to three different cohesive designs, and all that’s left is to pick one and get started on the list of supplies to order from the hardware store. Even my parents are eager to hear what the students decide.

Sitting on the edge of the stage, looking out over the empty seats of the theater with Mrs. Betty beside me, brings back a pang of nostalgia for my own high school days.

When I’d gone to school here, I’d never taken any of the theater classes that were offered.

Being up on the stage in front of people has never been appealing to me.

But my sister always loved the spotlight, and Mrs. Betty often confused us for each other in the hallways my freshman year.

She hasn’t changed much, still wearing the ‘60s-style A-line dresses in every color of polka-dot they offer.

The older woman has long silver hair that she wears up in a bun or down in a braid, but always with a matching silk scarf tied into it.

She must own one of every color, because they always match her dresses perfectly.

I wonder if she still sings Broadway songs while walking the hallways.

“With the plans from the last few productions of Romeo and Juliet and all of these new ideas, we are going to have a beautiful set in the end.” Mrs. Betty beams as she pats my arm.

Today’s dress is a beautiful shade of sunshine yellow with white polka-dots.

She looks like she’s ready for a bright summer day, despite the fall weather outside.

“You don’t know how much the generosity of all of you at Hale Hardware means to us.

Your lovely family has been such a gift to this community for so many generations.

We would have found a way. As you know, dear, the show must go on!

But we are forever grateful that we can continue to put on our show in style. ”

My cheeks heat under her praise. “You’re so sweet, Mrs. Betty. I am happy to help make this even more special for my niece and the other kids in the production. We’re happy to give back to the community, and to be honest, I think I’m as excited as the rest of you to be a part of it all.”

“Please, dear, call me Betty. ”

I’d forgotten that Mrs. Betty is actually Betty-Ann Laubenstein, and she’d asked to be called Mrs. Betty after years of botched spelling and pronunciation of her last name. It’s strange not to call her Mrs. Betty, but I nod my agreement. “Thank you, Betty.”

Betty taps a hand on the stack of design ideas between us.

“Well, Frankie, the students have chosen their three favorite ideas, but we’re going to leave the final decision up to you.

Take the weekend, make your choice, and then let me know how we can help you.

If you need extra hands to bring supplies, or whatever you need, say the word, child, and we are at your service.

Our lovely new principal has assured me that we can borrow anyone we need to get this job completed.

” I wonder if she remembers teaching Roman in her own class and if it was strange to have a former student as her new boss, but I don’t dare ask.

I haven’t talked to Roman since our dinner.

He’s waved and said hello to me each morning as I entered the school, but otherwise, we’ve both been preoccupied with our own work and haven’t crossed paths throughout the week.

My traitorous heart still leaps out of my chest every time I catch a glimpse of him.

It’s unfair how attractive he looks in those suits.

I’m not surprised he told Betty we could have all the help we want; I’m sure he’s eager to have this done and me out of his hair.

“That’s generous of him.”

“He seems to like you. I guess not much has changed there.” Betty winks at me. I guess she remembers quite a bit.

“I’m sure we can get this done in no time.

I’ll make my decision this weekend and spend the beginning of next week at the hardware store making sure we have everything we need.

I’ll bring the box truck over by Friday, and we can get the truck unloaded and ready for construction the following week.

For the next five weeks, or as long as you need me, I’m your girl. ”

She claps her hands together. “The sooner we get the set pieces finished, the easier rehearsals will be. If you’re serious about giving up your entire life, I’ll get some volunteers for after-school construction, and we can push through some late evenings to get a head start.

Take this next week off to gather what you need and I’ll watch for you and your truck of goodies next Friday! ”

I am more than ready to devote myself to this project and let everything else in my life stop taking up all of my mindspace. It’s a welcome distraction. “Completely serious. You tell me the schedule, and I’ll make sure I’m here.”

“Wonderful, just wonderful.” She hugs me tightly as the last bell of the day rings out. “That’s my cue, dear. Tell your lovely parents hello, and enjoy your weekend.”

She stands, the petticoat under her dress rustling, and as she walks up the aisle toward the exit doors, she begins to sing, “Singin’ in the Rain.” I’ve missed hearing her voice in the halls. I make a mental note to watch the Gene Kelly film with Alayna soon.

I pack up my own things, careful to tuck them deep into my bag so they won’t get wet outside.

The sound of the students chattering and slamming lockers drifts in from outside the theater.

Tonight Alayna has requested chicken and potatoes, and Clay has offered to cook for us.

I’m looking forward to a nice, normal Friday night at home with my people.

With everything that’s been said between us, I wonder if tonight will really be like the normal Friday night dinners from the last decade, or if everything is forever altered now that Clay has thrown his feelings out there.

It isn’t that I’m upset with him—of course I always want him to be honest with me—it’s just the worst possible timing.

Clay is my rock, the guy waiting for me after work, eager to hear about my day and tell me about his own work drama.

We commiserate over parenting woes with Alayna.

Cheer each other on for the little wins, and help each other through the disappointments.

But it’s always felt like family, like a friendship.

Can I find a spark there? Do I even want that ?

I linger a few extra minutes inside the quiet of the theater, waiting for the commotion in the halls to quiet down as most of the students rush out to begin their weekend plans.

I know Alayna will be impatiently waiting for me, but I need these few minutes to compose myself.

As exciting as this week has been, it has me even more confused than before about what I want for my own future.

The universe seems to be yelling at me, telling me to wake up and look around. All I have to do is stop stalling and answer the call.

So, why is that so terrifying?

I straighten my back and force myself to leave the theater. I don’t have to have all the answers today, but I do need to get out of this school and head home.

Alayna is waiting for me by the front doors. In a pink T-shirt and jeans, she’s not prepared for the weather. “It’s dumping out there, my hair is going to be ruined,” she pouts.

“Where is your coat?”

Her eyes roll so hard I worry they’ll get stuck in the back of her head. “Ew. Seriously? No one wears a coat, Keke.”

I try to hold back my laughter but fail. I tug at the shoulder of my own thick raincoat. “Actually, smart people dress for the weather.”

All around us, students rush out into the rain, not a single one of them wearing a coat. Alayna pulls her backpack from her back and suspends it over her head like a shield.

“You’re ridiculous.” I pull my hood over my head and push the door open, leaning against it.

I unlock my car from the open door, the lights flashing in response, and motion with my hand for Alayna to go ahead of me.

She rushes past me and into the downpour, cursing and squealing as she dodges puddles and miserably attempts to stay dry. “Teenagers,” I mutter.

“Ah, they’re not so bad.” Roman’s hand holds the door open above my head. I try not to stare at him even as goosebumps break out over my arms .

“Regretting spending so much time here yet?” he asks.

I take a quick breath, steadying my voice. “No, actually it’s been really great.”

“Glad to hear it. Let me know if anyone gives you any grief.”

“Do you have a dungeon for bad students or something?” I laugh.

“Worse. They have to assist Mrs. Brosnan for an entire day.”

My head snaps up, and I search his face. He’s stone cold serious. “Wow, that’s mean.”

Roman retrieves an umbrella from somewhere inside his black peacoat.

He’s practically an ad for some expensive menswear catalog, his hair falling forward over his forehead and his suit peeking out from under his jacket.

I bite my lip and shift my gaze away from him as I walk through the doors and into the rain.

Instantly he’s behind me, shifting his umbrella to cover us both. The smell of his cologne in the air makes me shiver. “I’ll walk you to your car, no sense in getting soaked.” He steps closer, not waiting for me to respond.

I stammer a thank you and walk quickly, trying to match his naturally long stride. The air between us is charged and awkward. I can’t see through the rain-streaked car window if Alayna’s watching or not, but my money is on yes.

Roman side-steps a puddle and I lean into him to keep from stepping into it myself.

His arm snakes around my shoulders, likely on instinct, and I close my eyes as the warmth of his body seeps into mine.

It’s almost a hug, and I hate how much I crave more of his touch.

A part of me wishes he’ll sweep me off my feet and kiss me like he did in his office.

The more sane part of me knows that’s a terrible idea.

“Have a good weekend, Frankie.” Roman hugs me to him one last time before dropping his arm from around my shoulder.

“Thanks, you too,” I say lamely. It feels like things between us are destined to be awkward forever. I long to go back to the easy, familiar way we used to be. Back when there was no doubt in my mind that he was the boy I would love forever.

“Feel free to call me if you need me. You know, for help with the set or anything.”

“I don’t have your number.” I pause, tugging on the door handle. And I don’t want to need him. It will hurt too much when he leaves me again. “I’ll stop by your office on Monday and we can exchange numbers then.”

“Okay.” Roman’s voice is low, he almost sounds disappointed. “See you Monday.”

I climb into my car, quickly shutting out the rain and my own mixed feelings.

Why can’t he be cold to me, then it would be easy to write him off forever.

Instead, all I can think about is how nice it would be to climb inside his jacket and wrap my arms around him.

How much I like his stupid jokes and the way he’s always smirking at me with his crooked mouth.

Alayna has the visor mirror down and is trying, unsuccessfully, to control the frizzy mess of wet hair on top of her head. “He walked you to the car to keep you dry? How romantic.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I repeat, but this time I’m only talking to myself.