Julie Musil - The Summer of Crossing Lines

The Summer of CrossingLines

Julie Musil

Copyright 2014 JulieMusil

Smashwords Edition

The Summer of CrossingLines

When her protective older brotherdisappears, sixteen-year-old Melody infiltrates a theft ring,gathers clues about his secret life, and falls for a handsomepickpocket. At what point does truth justify the crime?

To John, Devin, Blake andGarrett

My inspiration, my joy, mylife.

Table of Contents

Skydivers cross safety lines whenthey jump at 13,000 feet.

Runners cross the finish line at theend of a race.

I crossed moral lines to save alife.

It was a day of opposites, whencrickets chirped in the sunlight and my words flowed like a swollenriver. A day when I shouldve felt at ease. But Ididnt.

My brother was late.

He shouldve been here seventeenminutes ago. Wyatt used to be on time for everything, but thesedays? Not even close. Five minutes late had become the norm, thenten, now fifteen. I checked the time on my phone again. Where washe?

It shouldve been easy to stepthrough the door, paste a smile on my face, and speak. The dramateacher was expecting me. But my shaky hand gripped the knob. Isqueezed my eyes shut.

Someone snapped their fingers, startling me. Hellooo?Melody? My brothers ex,Madison, tapped her foot. Her boyfriend-of-the-months class ringhung from a long chain. Can you move? I rushed to step aside. She grabbed the doorknob andtwisted it, wiping my sweat off her hand as she entered the darkauditorium.

Auditions were in full swing. The drama teacher shouted,Next! The door swungclosed.

I paced outdoors in the afternoonheat, practicing my lines. Id rehearsed in front of a mirror andin front of Wyatt. When I stepped into another characters skin, mystutter disappeared. Wyatts excitement over this revelation wasthe final push I needed to audition for the summer dramaprogram.

Thirty minutes later, Madison breezed through thedoorminus the necklace and class ring. She glanced both ways. Areyou waiting for Wyatt? Inodded. She cocked her head and smirked. You arent seriouslytrying out, are you?

Theanswer formed in my brain. The word was spring-loaded on my tongue,waiting to break free. My pulse quickened. Muscles in my necktightened. Y-y-y For mostpeople, the word yes was so simple. One syllable, threeletters, over in a second. For me, it was on a long list of troublewords. I closed my eyes and tried again. Y-y-y

Madison sighed. The scent of hervanilla body spray faded. When I opened my eyes, shed alreadysauntered away. My cheeks burned. Why did I try to answer herquestion?

A light breeze rustled the heavyair and cooled my neck. Napkins blew against the chain link fence,catching between the squares.

I checked the clock. In fiveminutes, auditions would be over. One thing I knew for sureIcouldnt step into that room without my brother. Hed taken dramalast year and convinced me I could pull off an audition. Hedassured me that the drama club was full of quirky artists whodidnt care what your faults were. To them, faults were gold to bemined when stepping into character.

Four more minutes.

Three more minutes.

Two.

Footsteps thudded. Wyatt roundedthe corner, his hair windblown and in need of a trim. Black andblue marks bloomed on his left cheekbone. His eyes were bloodshot,puffy, and round with worry. He dropped his expression, like acurtain closing between scenes, and replaced it with calm andconfidence. Im so sorry Im late.

My heart rate slowed. Tension in myneck loosened. Being around Wyatt was like pulling on yoga pantsafter a day in tight jeans.

Iopened my mouth to ask about the bruise, but his words came fasterthan mine. I know youve been freaking out. His cheeks were rosy from exertion. His chestheaved with each breath. I promise it wont happenagain.

Hed said this before. But still, Ibelieved him.

L-l-l-late.

No, were not. We have one more minute. Follow mylead. He threw open theauditorium door and pulled me down the side aisle. It was cool andquiet. Mrs. Woodley sat in the front row, loading scripts into herbulging tote bag. Mrs. Woodley, weve saved the best forlast.

She looked up, startled, but notangry or flustered. Why are you two so late?

Its my fault, Mrs. Woodley. Melody was on time. He bent and helped stuff papers intoher bag. She didnt want to audition without her biggest fan inthe audience.

Mrs.Woodley smiled at him and then looked at me. I wish you wouldvecome in, Melody. She glancedat her watch. I cant stick around. My daughters playing the tubaat school tonight. Can you audition in my classroom tomorrow atlunch?

Wyatt answered before I had a chance. Well bethere. He didnt usuallyspeak for me, knowing it made me feel stupid. But this time Ididnt mind. Shell ace her audition. Shes way better thanme.

Mrs. Woodley grinned. No pressure,right, Melody?

Wyatt grabbed her bag, hefted itover his shoulder, and strolled beside her up the aisle. He askedabout her daughters softball team, and how their dog was healingafter surgery. I followed in Wyatts wake, like usual, marveling athow words rolled off his tongue with such ease.

As I passed row four, I spiedMadisons necklace and class ring hanging from an arm rest. I knewI shouldnt do it. Experience had taught me it would feel good atthe moment, but it never solved anything.

I grabbed the chain and class ringand stuffed them into my pocket.

***

I paced outside Mrs. Woodleysclassroom, peeking through her window each time I passed. She satat her desk, poking lettuce with her fork and checking her watch.It was twenty-two minutes past our noon rendezvous timestill noWyatt.

Had he taken my angry wordsseriously? After yesterdays missed audition, wed stood by his ElCamino in the parking lot. He kicked his tire. Im sorry I waslate again.

This had become the new routine. Heflaked out on me, then apologized, and I accepted. Not thistime.

I turned my cheek.

It had been his idea for me toaudition. But then he didnt show up on time. I couldnt shake theimage of me waiting outside the closed auditorium door, as if Ididnt belong.

Come on, Melody, dont be mad.Ill be there for you tomorrow. I promise.

This was where I was supposed tosmile and shake my head as if everything was fine. But I didnt. Ispoke two words that Id never said to him before. Two words Ididnt mean.

Dont bother.

I didnt wait for his reaction. Istrode to my own El Camino before he could say something charming.I hadnt even asked about the bruise on his face.

As I drove out of the parking lot Istared straight ahead, determined not to show him that his reactionmattered. In my peripheral vision, I noticed his sagging shoulders.We hadnt fought for years, since hed deemed himself my protectorand I relied on him to be there for me when I needed him. I mergedmy car onto the side road and didnt look back. I hadnt seen himsince.

Mrs. Woodley stabbed a tomato withher fork and checked her watch again. I peered around the corner,hoping to hear Wyatts high tops squeaking along the polishedfloor.

The bell rang. Mrs. Woodley snappedthe plastic lid on her bowl and caught me staring through the smallwindow. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question. I shouldvestepped inside and auditioned without my brother, I knew it. Butknowing something and doing something about it were totallydifferent.

At the end of the day I sprinted tothe student parking lot and scanned rows of VW Bugs, pick-uptrucks, and clunkers, searching for Wyatts primer gray ElCamino.

Melody, wait up! Susanna, President of the Dont Tell Anyone I Told YouClub, huffed and puffed her way toward me. She bent at the waist,gasping, holding her finger in a give-me-a-minutesignal.

Acop Another deep breath.In the office. She stoodand fanned her face. Asked about your brother.