The Big Production by Peter Lerangis

Author:Peter Lerangis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group

16

BRIANNA UNDID HER SCARF, WHICH WAS TOO loose against the bitter wind, then wrapped it around twice for extra warmth. She was a walking collection of Christmas gifts collected from her mom’s business trips—pashmina scarf from India, handmade cable-knit wool sweater from Ireland, fur hat from China, thick down coat from Paramus, New Jersey, and a pair of insulated gloves that her dad liked to say came from the famous Spanish designer El L. Bean.

The walk felt good. The cold air was clearing her thoughts.

She would just drop by the diner for a short breakfast. It would be close to the end of Harrison’s Saturday shift. They would take a walk afterward. Talk things out.

Brianna was mad, and he knew it. She hadn’t been able to talk to him—really talk to him—all week. Since she found out about Reese. The rumor. Whatever it was. For days Harrison had been giving her looks—curious, frustrated looks. She owed him an explanation. And he really owed her one.

And maybe they would even talk abut the strange incident with his dad and Charles. Everything would have an explanation. Everything would be all right again. Somehow.

She needed everything to be all right.

Last night she had decided to go to sleep early. It hadn’t worked. Her whole body had been too zingy to sleep, too used to being awake. Too much guilt over not doing work. She’d had to borrow a trazodone from her mom’s medicine cabinet.

Note to self: Tell mom about the borrowed traz.

Shouldn’t be a big deal. Mom had offered her the trazzies before on sleepless nights. Mom swore by them.

Brianna yawned.

As she walked past the school, she spotted a group of guys on the football field, by the grassy out-of-bounds area near the running track.

“Eleven-point-nine—you can do better than that, Newman!” The voice of Mr. Emmons, the track coach, rang out from the school football field.

Kyle was there. And Pete Newman and all the others, in shorts and T-shirts. Laughing, looking comfy and toasty warm, and in the company of a supposedly sane and trustworthy adult.

Guys were disturbing. Period. They disproved evolution (which was supposed to move toward higher beings, not lower) and intelligent design (because who with any intelligence would design them?).

As she descended a hill to the track, Kyle waved.

He was beautiful. He really was. And uncomplicated in his own way. Kyle was all about action, doing. Throw the javelin? Star in a show? Swim in the cold? Break a heart? He just did. With a smile and a shrug. No fuzziness. All instinct.

He was the anti-Harrison.

As she walked toward him, she wondered if she had made a colossal mistake not really trying with him. She’d had the chance. She could have made something of the night at the beach. Forced him a little. To stay connected. To make him be in the show, at gunpoint if necessary.

“It’s like thirty degrees below zero,” she said. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Freezing,” Kyle said. “But if I dressed right, I wouldn’t look butch in front of Pete.

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