Juniors by Kaui Hart Hemmings

Author:Kaui Hart Hemmings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2015-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

17

WILL ADJUSTS HIMSELF, SITTING UP, AS IF HE’S REALLY about to audition for something. He clears his throat, then reads as Jenkins:

“‘Wow. Look at that . . . asset.’”

I’ve turned to the same scene my mom and I had read in the kitchen, but we have the version where we see the back of the girl bending over and waxing her board.

“Go on,” Will says. “Your line. Say it like you mean it.”

“‘You’re an animal, Jenkins,’” I say, sounding like my mom when she read the line to me.

“‘Well, yes, by definition. I am an animal.’” Will looks at me and winks. “‘And so are you.’”

I smile back, even though I’m not supposed to. I’m supposed to be disgusted. I look back at the script. A local surfer is coming out of the water, his ripped body glistening. My character takes the binoculars from Jenkins and looks at the surfer.

“‘Yes, I guess I am,’” I say.

Seen through the binoculars, the girl is standing now. She stretches before going out into the surf. She twists and reaches and bends and is very flexible.

“‘I guess it’s your turn,’” I say as Samantha, and pantomime handing him the binoculars. Samantha looks down at the book on her lap and feels his gaze. He isn’t looking at the hot girl in her bikini. He’s looking at her.

“‘What?’” I say, and feel what Samantha is feeling—a kind of flushed yet empowered kick.

Will says, “‘Nothing, I . . .’”

“‘What?’” I say. “‘Spit it out.’”

“‘It’s just been nice hanging with you, that’s all. I know at work we’ve been all over each other, our egos colliding and—’”

“‘No, no, no,’” I say, liking our timing and rhythm. “‘Your ego colliding with your own ego and sending shrapnel into everyone’s hearts.’”

In the script, Samantha looks shy after saying this. The word heart was too much.

I take a breath, get my emotions under control. It doesn’t say she does this, but it feels right. “‘Our heads, I mean.’” I tap my head, improvising. Will, or Jenkins, sits up a bit, pulls away.

“‘Now, that’s no way to speak to your elder.’”

He’s kidding, but his voice has softened.

Will is good at this, or we’re good at this together. It’s almost easier this way, and I wish I always had a script at hand. I feel like myself even though I’m not myself. I’ve warmed to the script as well, as if saying the words out loud not only brings Samantha to life, but makes Jenkins more likable. More than that. As Samantha, I want his attention.

“‘I know what you mean,’” I say. “‘About hanging out. It’s nice to get out of the so-called office.’”

“‘I don’t mean to be a jerk in there,’” he says. “‘Is that what people think?’”

I put my hand on Will’s leg, then take it off as if it burned me.

It’s what Samantha does in the script, and yet it’s what I would have done if I were her too, and I even probably feel the way she’s supposed

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