Music from: You Make Me Feel Euphoria
There was a hole in Ivy's memories the next day as she ate lunch outside the high school with Lornie. She wasn't aware of it at first, preoccupied with a test she'd forgotten to study for and a new tune running along her thoughts, but slowly she realized she was limping, slightly. Some of her memories were drifting back, but there were still pockets of lost time.
"How can you not remember falling?" Lornie asked for the fifth time that lunch. She pushed a strand of red hair from her mouth as the afternoon breeze sent it into her bite of lunch-lady spaghetti. "You've still got the bruise on your ankle."
Ivy angled her foot out from the concrete bench that encircled the round lunch table in segments. Sure enough, a large blue bruise was peeking at her from her short socks. She hitched up the pink sock. "Slouch socks really live up to their name." She popped another sweet potato fry into her mouth. "Maybe I hit my head. I don't know. After the shop, it's like fog in my head; I know Dred went with us, but after that . . . not so much." She read the look crossing her friend's face. "Nothing happened, Lornie."
Lornie raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. He's kinda hung up on you."
As if his name conjured him, Dred draped into the second half of Ivy's third of bench segment. "Hey, babe. How ya feeling?"
Ivy worked up a less confused smile. "Oh, fine. And you?"
He slid a grin at Lornie, then propped his elbow on the table, his gaze lingering on Ivy's lips. "A little bruised, are you?"
Ivy fought down a blush. "I just twisted my ankle, that's all, Dredge."
"Eh, Dred, sweetheart." He swiped a fry from the puddle of ketchup on her Styrofoam plate. "Nice. Eating outside."
"I'm sure Canada has an outside." Ivy frowned down his hand that went for another fry. "Maybe even more than we do."
He set a mangled paper lunchbag on the table. "Maybe." He opened the bag and pulled out a Tupperware bowl of soup. He opened it and snagged a spare plastic spoon from the center of the table. "Just checking."
She watched him ladle a spoonful of mostly noodles and carrots into his mouth. "You brought soup?"
"Mhm."
Another memory sparked into her mind. "Hey, you didn't tell me you lived with Maeve Gretels. How so?"
He choked down a wide egg noodle. "You know, an interim thing. I try to forget it."
"That's got to be awkward." Lornie looked between them as Dred nodded, intent on his soup. She leaned to Ivy. "What's that tune you were humming?"
Ivy picked up on the thread of thought. "I think it was on the radio last night." She watched Dred take a large bite of noodles. "Maeve's radio, I guess."
A noodle slapped Dred's lip as he sucked it in, along with too much air that led to a coughing fit.
A hand pounded on Dred's hunched back, and Ivy and Lornie both looked up at Vohn.
"Pace yourself, boy." Vohn glanced to the girls, and then left, dissolving into the crowd of tables and students standing while eating and chatting.
A low growl came from Dred as he turned to watch the older boy leave, eyes narrowing as he wiped a stray noodle off his mouth.
"He's grumbly all the time," Lornie said, her attention back on her spaghetti, coiling the noodles around the spork's shallow tines. "Not just you."
"I know." Dred belched and withdrew an energy drink from the paper bag.
"How do you know?" Ivy asked. She ate the sweet potato fries quicker, then pushed a few toward him. "Go ahead."
"Nah, I shoulda asked." He swiped two. "He looks the type, ya know? Uptight. Know it all. Too good."
Lornie sent a glance in the direction Vohn had gone. "I'm glad Camille's over him. Too much legwork."
Ivy nodded, finishing off her turkey burger. High school food was a step up from middle school fare and even six weeks into the school year, she'd sampled almost the entire menu. She watched Dred hold the Tupperware up to his mouth and slide out every last noodle and broken carrot with the remaining broth. Never had home-cooked soup, usually reserved—in her mind—for colds and flu season, looked so unappealing. "Good?"
He nodded, swallowing the too large gulp of soup. "Berella's cooking, but a gypsy's recipe."
"What?" Ivy and Lornie asked in unison.
Dred composed himself after a long belch. "You know, taste of home and all that."
Lornie nodded. "Canadian gypsies. Right." Her hand shot out and she clutched Ivy's wrist as she reached for her last fry. "That reminds me; I gotta work my uncle's stand at the Fest this weekend. Come with me?" Her eyes pleaded desperately. "Save me? Please?"
Ivy's mind sifted through Lornie's menagerie of relatives. Every festival brought out her friend's more colorful family in the form of carnival stands and booths. "What kind of stand?"
"Tie-dye. Shirts, hoodies, dresses. Cool stuff." Lornie smiled hopefully.
Ivy sighed in relief. "Yeah, I guess. Probably."
"Because I know the Marvins are all out of town this weekend." Lornie nodded. "I checked for play practice."
Dred's head snapped to Ivy. "You're in a play?"
"No. Lornie is." Ivy jiggled the orange juice in her bottle. "Romeo and Juliet, a la Ms. Decker style."
He nodded, stretching his legs under the table, clipping both girls' knees. "Who's Decker?"
"Our new drama department instructor." Lornie warmed to the name. "She's even letting freshmen tryout this year. No one else has, but she did."
Ivy read the eagerness Lornie tried to squelch in her face. "Lornie's got the lead role understudy."
Lornie nodded, smiling. "Just found out last night."
Dred nodded. "Yeah? Backup Julia?"
A nervous giggle possessed Lornie for a full minute. "Yes," she finally said. "But just backup. But it's still fun. And I love the music this time."
"A musical?" Dred glanced from Lornie to Ivy. "Are you in it? At all?"
"No. I don't sing, or dance, or act." There was little regret in Ivy's voice. "But I like to watch, even the rehearsals."
"You're coming tonight, right? It's our first full dress rehearsal for Act Three, with Guilty."
"Who's guilty?" Dred wadded up his paper bag, with the Tupperware still in it. He swore and reopened the bag and withdrew the plastic bowl and lid.
"Ms. Decker's using contemporary music for some of the scenes," Lornie said as the class period bell rang and drowned out half her words. She and Ivy stood up and collected their lunch trays. "You do have Marina and the Diamonds in Canada, don't you?"
"Yeah, sure," he said automatically.
"I'll be there," Ivy said. "I've got some basting to do first, but that's it."
"You need an escort?" Dred was at Ivy's hip as she climbed out from the bench and steadied her tray.
"It's only practice, not the real play," Lornie breathed, slipping by them.
"Well, it's not open to the public," Ivy began.
"But not closed, right?" He stayed at her side as they funneled into the doors propped open at the outdoor eating area.
Something in his eyes found a place deep inside Ivy that made her merely nod. "But I don't need an escort."
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