"Are you worried about performing?" Mike asked quietly.
"That's not my reason for disliking him."
"I didn't think it was. I just wanted to tell you that there is nothing to be afraid of. The audience is rooting for you, Jenny. They see you on stage and want you to do well. Everyone out there wants to love you."
Speaking of ego, I thought to myself, what an assumption!
"Trust me," Mike said, his face animated, "it's a blast."
"For you, maybe."
"There's nothing like it. I've been putting on shows since I was five."
"Are you part of a theater group?"
He grinned. "No, the kid of a minister. I spent a lot of growing-up years hanging around the church next to our house in Trenton. It had a stage-the altar; a balcony-the choir loft; sort of an orchestra-the organ; even costumes-my father often wondered why his vestments were wrinkled on Sundays. I put on a lot of performances for my friends, all of them unauthorized."
I laughed out loud. Mike laughed with me, gazing up at my face. His smile, the brightness in his eyes made my heart feel incredibly light. Then I remembered Liza and looked away. I could imagine her slipping out to meet him here in the moonlight.
"Anyway, my parents aren't thrilled about my dream of being an actor. My oldest brother is doing mission work in Appalachia. The second one is studying at Union Theological. And then there's me. Since I don't seem to have a religious calling, they would like me to pursue something practical, you know, something that guarantees a good salary."
"But you have to follow your heart," I said.
"Yes… Yes, you do."
He waited for me to meet his eyes, but I didn't. I couldn't.
"You know, some of the guys have been talking about you, Jenny."
"They have? Saying what?"
"They're disappointed that you paired off so quickly with Tomas."
"Why should it matter to them that we're friends?"
He looked at me curiously. "You really don't know, do you?" he said." 'Her hair gives dawn its fire, her eyes give dusk its soul.' " He knew how to use his voice to melt a girl's heart, to make a girl want to believe. I steeled myself against the seductive words. "Excuse me?"
"It's a line of poetry describing a beautiful girl, one who doesn't seem to know it."
I dug my fingernails into the bark of the tree. "Well, there's your answer, the reason I like Tomas. He's real. He's not an actor."
"What's wrong with actors?"
"They quote poetry. A girl has to be crazy to believe one," I told him. "It's far too easy for an actor to give you a good line."
"You're quick to judge."
"No," I argued. "I've had experience with theater types. After a while they can't tell real from unreal.
They believe their own creation of themselves and can't understand why everyone else isn't convinced they're wonderful."
He jumped down from the limb, then stared up at me, his eyes sparking with anger. "It's efficient, I guess, judging an individual by a group. You don't waste any time trying to know somebody."
But I don't want to know you! I thought as I watched Mike walk away. I can't risk knowing you.
Experience had taught me not to get close to guys who fell in love with Liza. I had been burned twice and knew I couldn't compete. It didn't matter that I could no longer give a guy access to my sister; if Mike knew who I was, I'd be access to his romantic memories of her. He'd start looking for traits and signs of her in me. And I wasn't setting myself up for that kind of heartache.
How are you doing, Jenny?" Maggie asked me Thursday morning.
"Good. Ready to go."
"Glad to hear it," she said. "We're going to work at the gym later today to block your movements. Walker thought it would be good if Tomas went with us.
Knowing the set and being as visual as he is, he might see some possibilities we don't."
"Sounds like fun."
"Also, I'm photocopying a set of relaxation exercises and organizing tapes for you to listen to."
"Sorry to be so much trouble," I said.
"Nonsense," Maggie replied, putting an arm around me, giving me a hug. "I love a good challenge."
"Maggie," Walker called. "I need you to get maintenance. Arthur still hasn't replaced those lights."
She winked and moved on. From across the stage, Brian smiled at me.
"I know who the camp pet is," a girl said.
I turned my head to see who had spoken, then wished I hadn't. Ken was standing next to Paul and Mike, hoping for a reaction. I ignored her and called to Shawna, who had just come in.
"Jenny didn't hear you," Paul said.
"Oh, I think she did," Keri replied. "Hey, Shawna. Don't you think Jenny is the camp pet?"
"She's the camp redhead, that's for sure," Shawna answered.
"Obviously, I'm not Walker's pet," I pointed out.
Keri flicked her long, dark-lined eyelids. Perhaps conflict kept her from being totally bored. "Walker gave you a hard time at first," she said, "something he does with all his favorites. Usually, he doesn't share favorites with Maggie. She likes girls who aren't sure of themselves, girls she can mother. But then, there is that little problem of yours."
"Ease up, Keri," Shawna said.
"So she's adopted you," Keri continued, "made you her project for camp. And Brian is close to sending kisses from across the stage."
I glanced at Mike, who stood silently, his face providing no hint of what he was thinking. I knew my cheeks were red.