Lola McAffrey's Great Disappearing Act

The Center of Attention

Grayson was on the sidewalk outside of Liv's building, leaning against the brick façade. He was scrolling on his phone, trying to not look conspicuous. I tried to wipe the goofy grin off my face that I knew was there. It was almost impossible.

"Hey," I said to get his attention. He looked up from the phone and smiled.

"Hey." He slid his phone into his back pocket. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"Well, let's just walk down the street and see what pops out at us." The downtown area was picturesque with small shops and wide sidewalks. There were a few dozen people milling about, going in and out of all the businesses. And when you inadvertently eavesdropped, you could here people catching up on their week, enjoying spending time together, and having fun.

By the time we hit the first boundary that was set by Aunt Liv, I turned around and pointed across the street. "Do you want to see a play?" The community theater was across the street.

"What's it about?"

"I don't know. Let's check it out." We looked both ways before we crossed the street, just like the good little girl and boy we promised to be. We looked at the poster advertising the play, but the title nor the description really gave away much. "Want to see it?"

Grayson shrugged. "Sure." We bought tickets and headed in. The play was going to start in ten minutes, but it felt more like an hour. It was difficult to think of things to fill the silence. We didn't know that much about each other, and my mind was drawing a blank when it came to thoughtful, provoking questions that I could ask.

"I was in a community theater production once," Grayson said, out of the blue.

"Oh, really? What was it?"

Grayson chuckled to himself. "The Wizard of Oz. They made me play Toto. I was five. I thought it was the greatest thing on earth. There I was, center of attention. I think maybe that's why I started the band. I just get a rush being on stage."

"I wish I felt that way. I hate being the center of attention."

"Really? Why?"

This was a tough one. I didn't think I knew myself why I liked to stay out of the spotlight. "I'm an only child. I guess that's probably why I don't prefer it. At home, I'm always the center of attention, whether I want to be or not."

Grayson nodded, then the lights dimmed. The play was about to start.

*

The one-act play ended up being a sappy romance with a surprise twist—the couple in love were dead, and they were trying to navigate romance in the afterlife. It wasn't as corny as it sounded—it did have a happy ending, but after the house lights came up, I could see the Grayson wasn't as impressed with the play as I was.

"Did you like it?" I asked as we exited the theater.

Grayson looked around, making sure we moved away from the rest of the crowd. "Not really."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess it was a stupid idea to go."

Grayson grabbed my hand. "No, it was a good idea. I just didn't like the subject matter, that's all."

I could feel the heat rising in my face. Strike One. "Okay, since the play was a bust, do you want to pick what we do next?"

"Sure, I guess." Grayson looked around, he saw the Cheetah Spot, which was a popular ice cream shop, and said, "Ice cream sounds good, but that crowd looks like a nightmare." Grayson was right. It was nine-thirty, and the shop closed at ten. Nearly everyone from Chesterville High was there, dipping in and out of the front door, congregating on the sidewalk, and causing a bit of general mayhem. Not only was it unappealing to Grayson, but it could also spell disaster to my project. I couldn't be that visible to any high school crowd right now.

"That's okay. I have something to show you." I pulled Grayson into a dark alley about a block from the ice cream shop. If this was Gotham City, I probably would be terrified that the Riddler would jump out form behind a dumpster. But this Chesterville—worst case scenario, it would be ahigh school kid with a clown mask.

We turned left behind the block, and there it was—the lifesaver. The Cheetah Spot realized it wasn't getting the adult population into the shop at night, so they put in a secret order window in the back. This was where Aunt Liv used to always take me because, as she said, she spent all week with those kids. She wasn't going to spend here free time with them too.

"What would you like?" I asked Grayson. "My treat."

We ordered our ice cream and found a smooth section of curb to sit down andenjoy it. We ate mostly in silence, my Plain Jane vanilla and his indulgentdulce de leche. I knew I was overly optimistic, but I was having the time of mylife. How could it get any better?