manicpixiedreamgirl by Tom Leveen

Author:Tom Leveen [Leveen, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-97576-8
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2013-04-23T04:00:00+00:00

“All right, my academicians,” Ms. Hochhalter said on the Friday one week after Mockingbird closed. “One quick announcement, and then we’re into Fahrenheit 451. Mrs. Goldie in the drama department announced yesterday she’s looking for original one-act plays to produce for the spring show.”

I sat up straight. Sydney cast me a Did you hear that? glance.

“So if anyone has any interest in submitting a play, come see me after the bell and I’ll give you the list of requirements. Get it, got it, good. Now, Fahrenheit. Do any of you malefactors even know who Ray Bradbury is?”

I didn’t hear a single word anyone said the rest of class, although I was a fan of Bradbury. I still hadn’t written more than a few pages of some dumb plays, and that was a long time ago, back when Syd had first brought up the idea. But I figured I could still whip something up. After class, I was the only person who took a copy of the submission requirements from Ms. Hochhalter, photocopied on a sheet of pink paper.

“Ah, I wondered if you’d be interested, Tyler,” she said when I asked for the sheet. She handed it to me and smiled. “I’d love to read anything you come up with.”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure I can,” I told her, scanning the sheet.

“He will,” Syd said from the doorway, where she was waiting for her post-English-class kiss.

Still looking at the sheet, I went over to Sydney. She fell into step beside me as we went to our next classes.

“Hang out tonight?” she asked.

“Uh … homework,” I said.

“Tyler, why not just say, ‘No, Sydney, I’m going to be writing a play.’ It would really save time and effort.”

I finally looked up, and grinned. “Sorry,” I said. “Yeah, that’s probably what I’ll be doing.”

“That’s cool. Good luck with it.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Sure I am,” Sydney said, acting offended. “But I can’t complain too much since the whole playwriting thing was kind of my idea in the first place.”

“True.”

We reached her biology class. Syd leaned in and kissed me. “Call me, though,” she said. “Just for a bit, okay?”

“Totally. What’re you going to be up to?”

“I don’t know. Probably call Michelle and Staci, see if they’re up for something.”

“Okay. Cool. See ya.”

I turned to go, but Syd stopped me.

“Tyler. You’re good, you know that, right?”

“As opposed to evil?”

“Mmm … no, you’re a little evil … just a dab.”

“Just a dollop?”

“Just a pinch.” She smiled at me. “I mean at writing. You’re really good. And you really should do this playwriting thing. It might be good for college applications and stuff.”

I laughed. “Ah, screw that, we’re sophomores!”

I was joking, more or less, but Sydney didn’t laugh with me.

“Not forever,” she said, and with another quick kiss, disappeared into her class.

God, Syd. I stood there for a moment, lingering on both her kiss and her words. Sometimes she just sounded way too mature. There are people like Robby and Justin, who cruise through high school, sucking up every moment, every good and bad day, taking it all in.

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