Leo: Stage Fright Page 7

  "My clothes," she gasped, peering into her closet. All of the ones she'd worked so hard to buy were gone. The only remaining pieces of her wardrobe were a few T-shirts and some old skirts from three years back.

  But that wasn't what disturbed Lydia most. It was seeing her carefully-framed photographs from past acting successes, all stripped from her shelves and walls and smashed to smithereens.

  A police officer was sifting through the debris when she came in. He looked up and murmured, "Sorry you had to come home to this."

  Holding what was left of a broken frame, Lydia sat down on her bed. "Who would do this?"

  "Vandals, most likely. We've had a rash of robberies lately. Must be the nice weather." The officer motioned to her desk and shelves. "Notice anything missing? Jewellery, coins, anything of value?"

  Lydia did a slow scan of her room. "All of my good clothes are missing. I think everything else is here." Unable to hold back the tears, she asked again, "Why would somebody destroy our house?"

  The officer shrugged. "Who knows? A burglar breaks in and, not finding what he's after, goes berserk and tears up the place. I'm sorry to report this isn't that unusual."

  "A burglar?" Lydia said. "There are things a burglar would've taken – like Jake's stamp collection, the TV and video, or Mom's silver. But nothing's missing."

  "Well, given the mess, it's likely that something valuable is missing," the officer said. "Wait until your mother does an inventory – I'll bet she comes up with a list of missing things."

  "You don't understand," Lydia protested. "Whoever did this is after me!"

  The officer studied Lydia for a moment. "Miss, my guess is that you're just upset."

  "You're damn right I'm upset!" Lydia said, her voice rising. "But that does not make me some stupid, hysterical teenager!"

  "We see all kinds of weirdos, Miss," the officer said, sitting down next to her. "Maybe this wasn't a robbery. Maybe it was some vandals on a spree. Maybe it's some sort of pervert who likes women's clothes. Maybe it was just a girl in need of an outfit for Saturday night—"

  "What are you going to do about it?" Lydia demanded. "I'll bet you leave here and forget about us. Just another case of vandalism."

  The policeman stood up. "We've called your mother's office and left word for her to come home as soon as possible. Believe me, we'll do our job. If we're lucky, we'll catch whoever is responsible."

  Lydia nodded, wishing it were true.

  "Your brother mentioned that your parents got divorced recently," the policeman said carefully. "And it wasn't exactly friendly."

  Lydia couldn't believe her ears. "Are you suggesting my dad had anything to do with this?"

  "There are no obvious signs of a break-in," the officer explained. "Which means either a real pro jemmied the lock – or someone with a key let himself in."

  "Well, it wasn't my dad!" Lydia protested.

  "Maybe he's still mad at your mother," the officer suggested.

  "She said, it wasn't our dad!" Jake joined Lydia, his voice shaking with anger.

  "Then a repairman? Someone who was given a key?"

  "Check with my mom when she gets here," Lydia said, taking her brother's hand and holding on to it for all she was worth. "But I don't think so."

  The officer scratched his head and surveyed the damage. "It's a crazy world we live in. Especially for you young people. Anything else you wish to tell me? Anything at all."

  Yes! This is all a plot, Lydia wanted to shout. She wanted to tell them that it was just part of a larger scheme that included the trap door, the voodoo doll, and the car at the park.

  But the police would want proof. What proof did she have? The trap door could have been an accident. The doll could have been a joke. And there were no witnesses to her encounter with the car in the park.

  "No." Lydia squeezed her eyes shut. "I have nothing else to tell you."

  Where is Mom? Or Dad? Why do we have to go through this alone? Lydia squeezed her brother's hand so tight, her knuckles turned white. Why can't my life be different, and all of these horrible things just go away?

  CHAPTER NINE

  After the police left, it took several hours for Lydia, Jake and their mother to restore the house. When it was time for dinner, none of them wanted to cook. They were all feeling a little shaky. Lydia's mother suggested she picked up a Chinese takeaway and Jake jumped at the chance to get out of the house. Lydia stayed behind, making sure to lock all of the doors and windows in the house.

  It was creepy being all alone, but she was determined not to give in to fear. After all, she was a Leo. Leos were known for their recuperative powers, and she was determined to recover from the strange and horrible last few days. Or else.

  Lydia spent the next half-hour carefully picking pieces of glass from her treasured pictures. Some of the photos had been torn and she set those aside, planning to glue them back together. Each picture held a special memory of a play that she had starred in. The memories were almost enough to make her forget what had just happened.

  Ding-dong.

  The doorbell brought her back to the present.

  Its sound shattered the quiet in the house, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  Don't answer it. Lydia's heart pounded furiously in her chest. What if it was the thief, back to take the TV and stereo and valuables he missed the first time?

  Ding-dong.

  Lydia crawled on her hands and knees to the base of the picture window. She stood up, carefully pulling back the curtain to peek outside.

  Whoever was out there was standing so close to the door that she couldn't see them. Lydia ducked back under the window frame.

  "Just go away," she whispered. "Please just go away."

  The doorbell rang a third time.

  The police. Call them. They'll make him go away.

  "Lydia?" a voice called through the front door. "Anyone home? Lydia? It's me, Page."

  "Page?" Lydia released a sigh of relief. She sprang to her feet and unlocked the door.

  Page was dressed in another peculiar outfit, a long cotton dress which reminded Lydia of something out of the last century. She wore a kind of turban made of printed silk that looked much like the style worn by movie stars in the Thirties.

  "Lydia, I heard!" Page stepped inside and gave Lydia a reassuring hug. "Oh, how awful for you!"

  Lydia stiffened. "How did you hear?"

  "A.J. told me," Page said. "She heard about it in the front office at school."

  Lydia cocked her head. "News travels fast. Especially bad news."

  "She said your place was pretty torn up," Page said, surveying the living room. "But it doesn't look it."

  "That's because we've been picking up like crazy," Lydia replied. "When I got home, the house looked like a war zone. I'll show you what they did to my room. I still can't believe it."

  Lydia led Page to her room and pointed at the stack of broken picture frames and torn photos lying on her bed.

  Page's hands flew to her face in horror. "This is just awful. You must feel so...so violated."

  Lydia nodded vigorously. "Our house was messed up, but I'm the only one in the family whose belongings were stolen and ruined. All of this –" Lydia gestured at her room, which was still mostly in disarray. " – was directed at me."

  Page perched on the edge of Lydia's bed. "Who would want to do this to you?"

  Lydia shook her head, feeling the ache in her throat that signaled a new flood of tears. She bit her lip hard, determined not to cry. "I've thought, and thought, and thought. I mean, sure, I can be pretty full of myself at times, and hard to take. But I'm a good person, Page, and a good friend!"

  "I know you are." Page clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. "Lydia, is there anyone you might have hurt?"

  "I wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose!" Lydia protested.

  "Of course not," Page said, gently. "But who might think you had?"

 
Lydia wiped her eyes, taking a moment to consider this. "Well," she said, "I know that A.J. is mad at me. We've barely spoken since My One and Only closed."

  "What's she upset about?" Page asked.

  "For starters, she has this major crush on Eric," Lydia replied. "It really got to her when she found out I liked him, too. We've had crushes on the same boys before, but this one was different. She couldn't handle it, especially when Eric started to pay attention to me."

  "That can't be it," Page said. "A.J. has to know a boy like Eric would never even notice a girl like her. And not just because you entered the scene. She's such a slob."

  "Page, I know you're trying to help," Lydia said, "but you don't know A.J. She's been a great friend. She's incredibly generous and loyal. Or was, until recently."

  Page shrugged one shoulder. "Well, even a good friend can turn against you. I mean, I've only been here a little while, but I saw A.J. blow up at Garrett at the theatre over some unimportant thing."

  Hearing this brought a knowing grin to Lydia's face. "Oh, there's no denying A.J. has a temper. Once, during tech week for My One and Only, when Garrett's lighting guy missed a cue for the fourth time in a row, A.J. went bonkers. She tore off her head-set, jumped off the stage and ran into the lighting booth. Garrett and Bill had to stop her before she tore the guy's head off. But that was tech week, just before opening, when everyone's nerves are frayed."

  Page nodded. "Of course. I don't know what I was thinking. After all, what kind of best friend would break into your house and smash your personal things, over a boy?"

  "Right," Lydia agreed. But still . . . She couldn't shake the memory of the look A.J. had shot her when she mentioned she liked Eric. It was almost – well, murderous. And what about the way A.J. had behaved at school? Going out of the way to avoid her. And even spying on Lydia. Just in case, Lydia decided she'd better find out where A.J. had been that morning.

  Page brought her back to the moment by asking, "So, what about you and Eric? Are things going pretty well?"

  Lydia frowned. Eric's car. The same one that tried to run her down. Could he have trashed her house and then come to find her at lunch? Too confusing. Change the subject.

  Lydia forced herself to smile. "Speaking of romance, how's it going with Robin?"

  "Robin?" Page asked.

  "He seems pretty crazy about you."

  "Appearances can be deceiving," Page said. "I like him. The problem is, Lydia, he seems to be head over heels in love with you."

  Lydia laughed. "Oh, Robin and I are just friends. We goof around, but I could never be attracted to him in a hundred years. Not that he isn't cute – he is. And his personality is one of the world's greatest. But it'd be like dating my brother."

  "So it's all right if I like him?"

  Not for the first time Lydia noticed that Page's eyes were so changeable. Sometimes lavender, or pale blue, they were now a deep cobalt.

  "Hey, you don't need my permission."

  Page suddenly spied Lydia's copy of Evita on her bedside table. "Oh, look! You've got the entire script. Lucky you. I have the original Broadway cast recording, which I've played so many times I hear it in my sleep."

  "I know. Isn't the music great?" Lydia said. "I just love 'Don't Cry For Me, Argentina'."

  "Oh, that number is so haunting!" Page agreed.

  "I can't wait to sing it tomorrow." Lydia hugged the script to her chest.

  "So you're still going to try out?" Page asked.

  The question startled Lydia. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

  "I just thought, what with everything that's happened, that maybe you'd skip this show and wait—"

  "Don't tell anyone," Lydia interrupted in a whisper, "but I plan to make a grand entrance to the audition, just like Evita's at the start of the play. I'm hoping to borrow a costume similar to the white dress Evita wore on Broadway."

  Before they could say anymore, the girls heard the garage door going up.

  "That must be Mom and Jake," Lydia said, heading for the door. "Want to stay for dinner?"

  "Thanks, but I'd better not." Page followed Lydia through the house. "Although I'd love to meet your parents sometime."

  Lydia stopped in the family room. "My parents?" she repeated. "My parents are divorced. My dad has his own place."

  "Oh. I'm sorry."

  "It's OK. There was no way for you to know."

  "Well, at least you still have a dad," Page added, almost as an afterthought. "Mine died when I was young."

  Lydia stared at her. "Your father is dead?"

  Page nodded. "Car accident."

  "But last week I thought you said your father was the one who arranged your audition for Connally High."

  "Did I?" Page looked startled. "I meant my step-father. You see, after my real father died, my mom remarried. Sorry if I confused you."

  "No problem. Look, are you sure you don't want to stay?"

  "No, I'd better go home and practice my terrible audition piece," Page said. "Oh, by the way, I took your advice – about my appearance. Tell me what you think."

  Page unwrapped her silken turban and shook out her hair. She'd had her hair cut. It was identical to Lydia's. "I hope you don't mind."

  Lydia was shocked that Page had imitated her so exactly. Then again, Page was still a blonde and Lydia's hair was much darker. And a lot of girls were wearing their hair short, especially with summer round the corner. No way in the world would they ever be mistaken for each other.

  "I'm, um, a bit surprised," Lydia said carefully, "but flattered."

  "Oh, good." Page sighed in relief. "Lydia, I know I'm an awful pest, but one more thing. You're so good with make-up, I was wondering what colour lipstick you use."

  "Plum red. Though with your hair so blonde, I'd recommend you tried a lighter shade."

  "Thanks." Page moved to the front door as Lydia's mother and brother entered the kitchen. "For everything."

  They said goodbye and, after relocking the screen door, Lydia watched Page walk down the sidewalk.

  That's eerie. Page is starting to walk like me. It was the shoes. They were almost identical to the heels Lydia wore.

  She heard her mother and brother call to her from the kitchen, but Lydia stayed in the door and watched Page till she disappeared out of sight. She knew imitation was considered the sincerest form of flattery – but still Lydia wondered. Could Page be taking it just a little too far?

  CHAPTER TEN

  You are in a critical trine pattern. Trines usually mean ease in dealing with life's situations, but this trine is in the fiery Leo (fixed and stubborn), the fiery Aries (cardinal and active), and the fixed Sagittarius (mutable and jovial). You hardly know which way to turn.

  "Lydia! Wait!"

  Eric? Oh, no. Audition days were always hard. But today was particularly tough. With her house having been robbed and the weirdness with the trap door and the car chasing her in the park – Lydia did not need to see him.

  "I'm in a hurry," Lydia mumbled, "I have an audition at 10.30." She had just parked her mother's car in the theatre parking lot and was moving as quickly as possible to the backstage door.

  "I know." Eric jogged towards her, gesturing over his shoulder to the red Subaru disappearing in the distance. "Once again my car wouldn't start. Luckily, my mom was able to drop me off."

  "What are you doing here?" Lydia asked, suspiciously.

  "Don't worry," he chuckled. "I'm not trying out for the role of Evita." His feeble attempt at humour landed with a thud. "Or any other part, for that matter. I realize I'm not an actor."

  She kept her focus on the entrance ahead. Get to the theatre. Go inside. Do the best audition possible.

  "Listen, Lydia," he went on, "since I'm going to be working on the show—"

  "As what?" Lydia threw open the theatre's door and stepped into the darkened backstage. She could hear the piano pounding onstage and one of the auditioners doing a shaky rendition of one
of the songs from the show.

  "Scenic artist," Eric whispered as he walked beside her down the hall to the green room. "Didn't A.J. tell you?"

  "No," Lydia answered bluntly.

  "Oh, well, it's true." He jumped in front of Lydia, blocking her way. "Anyway, I don't know what I did to upset you, but since we're both going to be here at DYT, I'm hoping we can at least sit down and clear the air."

  "I'm due at the audition," Lydia said, trying to step round him.

  "I didn't mean right now," Eric said, letting her pass. "I mean – Lydia, will you please stop and talk to me?"

  Seeing Eric only confused Lydia. Right now she needed to keep a clear head, and feel good, positive thoughts. She did not have to have her emotions being sent through a blender. Lydia took a deep breath. "Look, Eric, I've been under a lot of stress. And I think you may know why. Anyway, could I please get past my audition before you and I talk any further?"

  "Sure." He jammed his hands in the pocket of his dark jeans and shrugged. "Whatever you say."

  His warm, brown eyes were filled with embarrassment and hurt, and Lydia instantly softened. She wanted to take back everything she'd said and apologize but a voice deep inside stopped her. Get a grip. You've got an audition. Focus on that.

  Lydia touched Eric lightly on the arm. "Thanks." Then she threw open the door to the green room and went in.

  The scene there was understandably tense. Some actors had their eyes closed and were deep breathing, trying to relax and to focus. Less experienced ones were still looking over their printed monologues, no doubt afraid that they had already forgotten every word. A few were on the floor, doing stretches, rotating their heads in slow circles, pretending that everything was under control. There was very little small talk and a lot of nervous pacing.

  Lydia put her things down under a chair. She pulled a bottle of water from her bag and took a few sips. She checked her watch: 10.20. Perfect. Enough time to relax, but not too much time to start doubting herself.