Page 22 of Intermission

Noah turns. “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. Mr. B kept us overtime.”

“Big surprise.” Noah rocks back on his heels. “So... do you need to go get your coat?”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“Here. You can borrow mine.” He starts to slip off his coat.

“No, it’s okay. Really. I’m warm blooded. Besides, we’ll be inside most of the time.”

Noah squints at me, as if trying to gauge what to do. At last, he puts his coat back on. “My car’s been running for a while, so it should be warmed up by now.” He does a little half-bow and gestures to where his car is parallel parked.

“There’s a certain trick,” he says, lifting the door handle at the same time he presses a foot against the bottom seam of the door, “to opening this door.” When the hinge gives a painful groan, he adds, “And an apparent need for a little WD-40.”

“Thanks.” I slide into the seat.

Noah shuts the door and walks around to his side. As he pulls away from the school, I say, “Oh, would you mind dropping me off at my friend Jenna’s house after the audition? I left my car there this morning and rode to school with her. I promised to help her study for a history test later.”

“No problem. Where does she live?”

“Out on Twin Oaks Drive.”

“That’s near where I was working today. Mac’s got me tiling a foyer in a new house out there.”

“Mac?”

“John MacIntosh. My boss. He owns MacIntosh Contracting. And he’s my landlord.”

“That’s handy.”

“More than you know. When my parents went back overseas, Mac let me move into the apartment above his garage in exchange for mowing his grass and stuff. It’s a pretty good deal. Plus, he throws these little construction jobs my way.” Noah turns the heat up a notch. “Truthfully, I think he’s hoping to turn me into a carpenter so I have something to fall back on if I don’t make it in show business.”

“That sounds familiar.” I let out a sigh. “My brother’s a doctor, my sister’s pre-law, and I’m planning to major in Musical Theatre.” I give a wry laugh. “My parents are hoping I’ll ‘come to my senses’”—I make quote marks in the air—“before I graduate.”

“Where are you going to go to college?”

“I’m not sure yet. I suppose I’ll go to whichever school is willing to take me. I’d love to go somewhere in New York, of course.”

Noah nods. “N.Y.U. has a fantastic program. And you’re right there, in the heart of N.Y.C.” He sings the letters like the song fromAnnie. “Er, sorry.”

“No apology necessary. You’re speaking my native tongue. But you’d rather go to London?”

Noah turns onto the highway. “At the risk of sounding like a snob, theatre is... well,olderin England. There’s such a rich history there. And I want to be a part of that theatre-life before I tackle Broadway.”

It makes sense. “So you plan to come back some day?”

“Not backhere, other than to visit, of course. But the States? Yeah. I’ll stay in London for a while, most likely. Build my resume around the connections I’ll make at the London Academy. Granted I get in, that is.”

Conversation flows so easily that when I finally turn my face forward I’m surprised we’ve already reached the edge of Leopold.

Noah smiles. “Good company makes time fly.”

He turns left, toward the business district. “I thought maybe we could eat at that little café on the square. They make great sandwiches. And this time of year, they have a peppermint mocha that’s really good.”

“Mmm. That does sound good, but since we’re going to an audition, I’ll probably just get a salad and some lemon water.”

“Killjoy.” He wrinkles his nose. “But your idea is better.” Noah pulls into a diagonal spot across from the café. “Now,” he turns to me, “you sit tight and let me be chivalrous.”