"Hey, Teresa. What's up?'

"Oh, um...nothing. You know, just-" I fall flat on my face into a bucket of paint as I try to look cool by leaning against a table. This isn't the worst thing that I've done in front of Kyle.

I'm only a complete clutz around Kyle. Any other time I am the most coordinated person you will ever know. Well, not really.

Its just something about him that makes my brain turn to mush. I can't make sense of anything when he's around.

One time, I was putting the finishing touches on a costume during a practice, when one of Kyle's scenes started. I got so distracted from what I was doing that I didn't notice I had sewed some ribbon on my finger until Maybell screamed. It actually didn't hurt, it was just a bloody mess and I had to remake the costme entirely.

Maybell (the screamer) plays the lead opposite Kyle. Of course, they play lovers, and whenever their big kiss scene begins, I have to put down whatever I'm doing or I'll destroy it unconsciously.

I can't tell you how many times I wished I got the lead instead of that ditz, but there's nothing I can do. Besides, I don't really have the right "look". The directors wanted someone who was blonde, tall, and pretty. I am none of the above.

Maybell, on the other hand, is all that and then some. She's the typical blonde airhead. One time, she talked to the garbage can at Mcdonald's, trying to order! I hope that Kyle doesn't like dumb girls, cuz otherwise, I'm screwed.

I pick myself up after that huge embarassment in front of Kyle. Paint is everywhere. I have no idea how I'll clean this up quickly.

I grab a bucket and fill it with soapy water and start scrubbing. Onstage I can hear Kyle's voice floating into the auditorium. Opening night is a week away, and in all honesty, he's the only one even remotely ready.

The rest of the cast (and crew) is a mess. No one remembers their lines without looking at the script, none of the set painters have finished or even started their sets, and I swear the director will die from all the pressure she's under.

My mind drifts as Kyle walks offstage and trips over my bent figure scrubbing the paint. he lands ontop of me and becomes covered in paint too.

"Thank God we're not in costume this week!" He says with a smile. He gets up, trys to dust the paint off, then laughs when he realizes its not coming off.

"Ummm, I can...uh....try...to get...to get...." I stammer, barely making sense to myself.

"Get the paint off? Oh, would you? That would be the best!" He walks into the boys dressing room to change. When he comes out, he gives me the paint ridden paints, shoes, and shirt. "You're a savior! Thanks, Teresa!"

Kyle leaves to go back onstage. I stare blankly after he leaves. I have no idea how to get this paint out! What was I thinking, volunteering to do it? I wasn'tthinking, that's the problem. I guess he just assumed a costume person would know the best way to get stains out. In my head I'm not a costume person though. I'm a struggling actress.

Desperate, I sneak out of the auditorium and into the computer lab down the hall.

"Maybe I can find something that'll help on google." I think aloud, a nasty habit of mine.

I wait for google to load, and I tap my fingers on the computer desk impatiently.

After way too long of a wait, google has loaded, and now I'm waiting for the searches for "how do I get paint out of clothing and shoes?"

I scroll through the outrageous number of results, and click on one that looks promising. The page says to mix salt and vinegar, then scrub it onto the affected area.

"Worth a shot," I guess.

I do exactly as the instructions, well, uh, instruct. But instead of clean, looks-like-new- clothes? I'm left with wet, stinky, still full of paint, and bleached clothes.

They're even worse then they were before. "GREAT! Now what am I going to do?"

I begin to cry, because there is no way Kyle will forgive me for this. My life is over.

Unless...yes! I could buy Kyle's clothes again! Then they'll really look like new, becuase they really will be new!

I count up the money in my pocket. $80. Hope that's enough.

I run out of the school and down three blocks to the store that sells his shirt. Oh crap. His shirt costs 30 bucks! I buy it, but I still have to get his pants and shoes! And on top of that, I'm running out of rehearsal time. I have to go to two more stores and get back to school in forty five minutes!

I check the tag inside his shoes. They're from the store next door! Finally! Good luck!

I sprint next door and am glad to say, the shoes were on sale for only $20. It still cut a chunk out of my budget, but it could have been worse.

I looked at his jeans. Oh. No. They're from a designer store. There is no way I'll be anle to get them for under 30 bucks. But I checked anyway.

I was right. But I was so close! They were having a special and the jeans were only 40 dolloars.

Ten dollars. Where could I get 10 dollars in a hurry? I could use my emergency credit card, but I doubt my mom would count this as an emergency.

So I resorted to scrounging in the alley ways, in the trash cans, bathrooms, and anywhere there might be dropped change. After searching for a while, I still was about six dolloars short.

I regretted it deeply, but I only had fifteen minutes to get back to school with Klye's "cleaned" clothes. So I used the credit card.

I thought my parents might not be as mad as they could be, since I have most of the money I charged. I hoped I might be lucky enough to pay it off before they even saw the bill, though.

I ran faster than I thought possible to get back into the auditorium before rehearsal ended. I got backstage, panting, just as the director called everyone onstage for notes.

I spotted Kyle, and ran over to him. I was going to say something to him, but when he looked at me with those eyes of his, my mouth went dry. So I just handed him the clothes (with the tags torn off of course) and stood there awkwardly.

"Wow! Not only did you get the paint out, but you got out that jelly stain from my sandwich at lunch today! You're amazing, Teresa!" Then he hugged me. This moment was worth all the hell I'd pay later.