Read Online Uncovering Sadie's Secrets by Libby Sternberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Libby Sternberg
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“Sadie, I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah. Me too,” she said eagerly. But then she had the good sense to leave, telling me she’d see me around. I focused my attention on tall, handsome Doug, trying to quell my curiosity about Sadie’s mysteries.
“I didn’t check the messages until too late last night,” I said, finally getting my voice down to a normal speaking tone.
“Well, I was wondering. . .” he began, and time seemed to divide into nanoseconds between that introduction and his next phrase, “what you were doing Saturday night. If you’d like to see a movie or something.”
My mouth went dry and my hands got clammy. Here was paradise within my reach. All I had to do was grasp it. Doug was looking at me with an intense gaze, a gaze that said he was afraid I’d disappoint him. This was sweet, and I tried to memorize the moment to tell Kerrie about it later and to store it up for rainy days when happy memories are as good as chocolate. Well, almost as good.
“I’d love to do something, uh, go to a movie, yeah, or something,” I managed to sputter out with fantastic élan before the bell rang. And then we had to go our separate ways, neither of us with a game plan for this wondrous date, but both of us with the cozy sensation of having achieved a major mutual goal.
Chapter Seven
H ERE ’ S THE deal—when your boyfriend can’t drive, you’re left with two options, right? One of his older relatives can drive you. Or, you meet the guy at the appointed place, getting a ride with a relative of your own.
To Doug’s credit, he offered me both choices. After much bashful stumbling over what we should do, when, and where, we finally settled on an action flick that began at seven at the Towson Cineplex. In a Friday night conversation before he ran off to work, he calmly laid out the possibilities.
“My Dad can take us, if you want,” he said, “or we can meet there. What’s your pleasure?” Wow. That was smooth. I was impressed.
As much as I liked the idea of being picked up by a Doug surrogate, I wasn’t a great small talker with older folks. With all the stress I had been under, dealing with Doug’s dad just seemed like a bridge too far. I opted for Door Number Two and told him I’d meet him in front of the theater. He seemed relieved and suggested we meet at six at the mall so we could get a soda or something beforehand. We could then walk together down the road to the theater. This was nice—he was thinking of food, a romantic stroll, and a movie. What more could a girl want?
But let me back up to my stressed-out week. Sadie remained as elusive as ever. The first Mikado rehearsal was slated for Thursday after school, and I had hoped to hunker down with her in some auditorium seats while Mrs. Williston disorganized the practice.
Williston was really good at disorganizing. But this semester, she was disappointing me. She had a college student helping her and this girl had done a whiz-bang job of making sure not a moment was wasted. From the second we all marched into that auditorium until the minute we left it, we were corralled into place and had music seared into our brains. No time for small talk. Heck, this was too much like work.
I was surprised, though, to see that Sadie was not one of the leading ladies or even one of the understudies. She was stuck in the chorus with the rest of us Great Unwashed. While warbling through choruses about pretty maidens, the analytical side of my brain kicked in.
I had seen Sadie in tears twice in the past week. And both times, the weepiness seemed to come right after she was praised or rewarded for good work. First, there was the office visit where she had been given the note on her advanced placement standing in computer science and math.
Then, there was the audition in which it looked like Williston was offering her the Keys to the Theater Department Kingdom. But both times, Sadie had acted as if she were on the verge of being expelled, instead
“Yeah. Me too,” she said eagerly. But then she had the good sense to leave, telling me she’d see me around. I focused my attention on tall, handsome Doug, trying to quell my curiosity about Sadie’s mysteries.
“I didn’t check the messages until too late last night,” I said, finally getting my voice down to a normal speaking tone.
“Well, I was wondering. . .” he began, and time seemed to divide into nanoseconds between that introduction and his next phrase, “what you were doing Saturday night. If you’d like to see a movie or something.”
My mouth went dry and my hands got clammy. Here was paradise within my reach. All I had to do was grasp it. Doug was looking at me with an intense gaze, a gaze that said he was afraid I’d disappoint him. This was sweet, and I tried to memorize the moment to tell Kerrie about it later and to store it up for rainy days when happy memories are as good as chocolate. Well, almost as good.
“I’d love to do something, uh, go to a movie, yeah, or something,” I managed to sputter out with fantastic élan before the bell rang. And then we had to go our separate ways, neither of us with a game plan for this wondrous date, but both of us with the cozy sensation of having achieved a major mutual goal.
Chapter Seven
H ERE ’ S THE deal—when your boyfriend can’t drive, you’re left with two options, right? One of his older relatives can drive you. Or, you meet the guy at the appointed place, getting a ride with a relative of your own.
To Doug’s credit, he offered me both choices. After much bashful stumbling over what we should do, when, and where, we finally settled on an action flick that began at seven at the Towson Cineplex. In a Friday night conversation before he ran off to work, he calmly laid out the possibilities.
“My Dad can take us, if you want,” he said, “or we can meet there. What’s your pleasure?” Wow. That was smooth. I was impressed.
As much as I liked the idea of being picked up by a Doug surrogate, I wasn’t a great small talker with older folks. With all the stress I had been under, dealing with Doug’s dad just seemed like a bridge too far. I opted for Door Number Two and told him I’d meet him in front of the theater. He seemed relieved and suggested we meet at six at the mall so we could get a soda or something beforehand. We could then walk together down the road to the theater. This was nice—he was thinking of food, a romantic stroll, and a movie. What more could a girl want?
But let me back up to my stressed-out week. Sadie remained as elusive as ever. The first Mikado rehearsal was slated for Thursday after school, and I had hoped to hunker down with her in some auditorium seats while Mrs. Williston disorganized the practice.
Williston was really good at disorganizing. But this semester, she was disappointing me. She had a college student helping her and this girl had done a whiz-bang job of making sure not a moment was wasted. From the second we all marched into that auditorium until the minute we left it, we were corralled into place and had music seared into our brains. No time for small talk. Heck, this was too much like work.
I was surprised, though, to see that Sadie was not one of the leading ladies or even one of the understudies. She was stuck in the chorus with the rest of us Great Unwashed. While warbling through choruses about pretty maidens, the analytical side of my brain kicked in.
I had seen Sadie in tears twice in the past week. And both times, the weepiness seemed to come right after she was praised or rewarded for good work. First, there was the office visit where she had been given the note on her advanced placement standing in computer science and math.
Then, there was the audition in which it looked like Williston was offering her the Keys to the Theater Department Kingdom. But both times, Sadie had acted as if she were on the verge of being expelled, instead
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