Page 124 of Dear Mr. Brody

“Don’t give me shit,mijo.” He snapped his fingers and I sat in the chair. “Thank you.”

“You’re scary sometimes,” I said and closed my eyes.

“Yeah… well, you’re an idiot all the time so…”

I couldn’t see his face, but I knew him well enough to know he was smiling.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“You have no idea,” he said and applied something to my eyelids with a featherlight touch. “Almost done. One more thing.”

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Not yet. Pucker your lips.”

“Fuck that.”

“It’s only gloss, stop being a baby.” He rolled the sticky substance on my lips, and I sighed.

“I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you wouldn’t have helped me finish the assignments I missed in your boyfriend’s class. Which I only missed because I’m a loyal motherfucker.”

“You’re not supposed to mention that.”

“Shut up and open your eyes.”

I blinked at him, and the smile on his face was next-level smug.

“Do I look dumb?”

“You look hot, and it’s freaking me out. I can’t have incestuous thoughts about you, Park. We’ve made it this far.”

I shoved him out of the way, and I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. “Holy shit.”

“I’m that good.”

I pressed my lips together, the slick gloss shined under the lights. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes ringed in a dark black liner, and he’d smudged some gray on my lids, with a little bit of blue flaring out from the corners.

“I’m kind of pretty.”

“No shit.” Marcos admired his work and my reflection in the mirror. “Van is going to come in his pants.”

“You can’t say shit like that when there are kids around.”

“I’m sure they hear worse at school.” He smacked my shoulder. “You better hurry, I think everyone is getting in first position.”

I jumped up and took my phone out of my pocket, but before I set it on the vanity, I shot Van a quick text.

Me: I have a surprise for you.

The heat from the stage lights had sweat beading on my forehead for the majority of the play, but I was grateful they’d made it next to impossible for me to see the audience. I’d only stumbled on a few lines in the First Act. The Second Act I’d found my stride, and by the third, I was truly feeling it. I didn’t think acting was in my future, but it was incredible to have this opportunity, to have the chance to be one of my all-time favorite characters, even if I’d wanted to puke for at least the first twenty minutes. Knowing Van was here with his daughter, my own real-life Pan, helped to steady me.

The stage darkened as I walked across it. The entire room was immersed in silence as the spotlight lit up Tink’s grave. It was fiction, but as I stood staring down at the tombstone the kids had painted, my throat ached. I thought about last Wednesday, about those terrible nine days when I thought I’d pushed Van away, when I thought I’d lost the chance to tell him how much I wanted him in my life. I thought about all of it, and my lashes brimmed with tears. I told myself it was the emotion of the day, the panic, the weight of all this responsibility crashing down, but it was relief. Pure fucking relief, and when Jake, aka Pan, walked out from the right side of the stage to take my hand, I exhaled a wet breath.

“She’s gone,” he said, and I nodded, wiping carefully under my eyes. Marcos would kick my ass if I messed up his make-up.

“She did this for us,” I said and turned to him. I rested my cheek to his like we’d planned, no reason it needed to get weird, and I felt Jake’s quiet chuckle against my skin. I took two breaths, remembering my lines, and faced the audience. I pointed at the ceiling. “You see that cluster of stars, Pan? The three just below the moon.”

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