Chapter 17 #2
I know that I’m not being fair, I’m very well aware of that, but when Charlie takes a hesitant step towards me, I can’t help myself.
When he raises his hand and the tears threaten to choke me again, the rage comes, and the desperate urge to push him away.
Because he is the only person in the world I can’t pretend to.
‘No,’ I snap at him. ‘It wasn’t OK, do you get that? I didn’t ask you to fight for me and pull all that toxic shit!’
He freezes. ‘Tori . . .’
‘A punch-up? Seriously, Charlie?’
‘I was trying to help!’
‘And I didn’t need your help!’
Charlie stares at me. I don’t know if anything has ever hurt as much as the sight of the emotions playing across his face.
Disbelief, confusion, followed by disappointment, and finally he shuts down.
It hurts, but it’s the only way I can bear it.
I can’t tell him that a too large weak part of me wanted to cry with relief when I saw him.
That I just want to cry now. That I want to throw myself into his arms and hide there from the whole bloody world.
That I might be endangering our friendship but I don’t care.
But I don’t do that because I have no strength left.
Because my heart’s been broken so often and in so many different ways. And his is too. I saw to that myself.
His eyes grow cold and his face hardens. ‘So it’s all my fault,’ he says slowly.
I bite my tongue and nod.
‘I see.’ Two syllables, sharp. It works. ‘Honestly, Tori, fuck you.’
He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it.
He really does mean it and I deserve it.
I bite my back teeth together as hard as I can, anything, just don’t cry.
‘Fuck you, Charlie.’
SINCLAIR
No idea how it happens so fast, but the very next day, the entire school seems to know about my fight with Valentine.
I keep my head down as I walk to class behind Henry and Gideon, but the whispers aren’t far behind.
I haven’t seen Val yet, but I hope with all my heart that his face looks at least as crap as mine.
At the morning run, I succeeded in keeping out of Tori’s way.
Fate is against me again, because in the south wing, I run right into Mum.
Her eyes fall on me as I walk towards her.
Briefly I regret not having told her. Then I could have explained things and wouldn’t have to risk her saying anything here, in front of everybody.
She doesn’t, but I see the disapproval in her face.
There’s little she tolerates less than violence.
All the same, after an unbearably long moment, she walks on without comment.
I lower my head so that my curls fall down into my face as I follow Henry. It’s not until Val comes towards us that I raise it again. He gives me a total death glare, which I return only too happily. It’s daft. But there’s so much rage inside me, and it’s at least doubled since last night.
Tori, who’s already approaching our classroom, doesn’t even look at me.
And I don’t care. I don’t give a shit. Seriously.
She can do one. And Henry too, if he gives me even one more of those knowing glances.
He eventually accepted that I’m not going to tell him what happened, but he’s well enough plugged into the school grapevine that he’ll have heard it all hours ago.
Besides, he’s got eyes in his head. The left side of Val’s face is slightly swollen and there’s a bruise adorning his nose, but sadly he looks fairly normal apart from that.
If you didn’t already know what had happened, you might think it had just been an extra-brutal rugby session.
Even so, Henry gives a smile of satisfaction at the sight of him, just for a second, then he’s the serious school captain again, shoulders back.
But I know why he’s my best pal, unlike Tori, because the main thing I feel when I look in her direction is despair.
And rage at myself. Because I know she’s right.
It was pointless to act like that, to sock Val one.
I’m not like that. I’d have bet, with almost total certainty, that I’d never be the one to pick a fight.
It seems I was wrong, but what can I say?
I didn’t go looking for trouble. And Val practically left me no choice.
I couldn’t help myself. Great, I sound like Romeo justifying having killed someone.
Anyway, it’s not true. You always have a choice, and last night I made the wrong one. But I’m too much of an eejit to admit that. Not even to myself, let alone to Tori.
I spend the rest of the day being as chilly to Tori as possible, and I hate it.
But it’s probably just as well. I’d love to know if she’s spoken to Valentine again, but I’m trying to act like I’m not interested.
It works reasonably OK and I sigh with relief when I see later that Mr Acevedo’s not around today.
He seems to be ill because there’s a notification on the school app that the rehearsal this afternoon has been cancelled too.
It’s been rescheduled for Sunday evening, which causes some disgruntled muttering.
I don’t care, so long as I can avoid Tori.
I divide the weekend between the stables, the bakery and my room, until Sunday when I have to stop hiding.
Mr Acevedo is still a bit under the weather as he greets us in the theatre.
Tori hasn’t arrived yet. But Eleanor comes over.
I might have been ignoring her messages all weekend.
‘Hey,’ she says, eyeing my face. I can’t blame her. It still looks rough.
‘Hey,’ I say feebly.
‘You OK?’
‘Yeah, fine. I’m fine.’
‘Seriously, Sinclair.’ Eleanor looks worried. ‘It looked really bad.’
I shrug.
‘Is Tori OK?’
‘How would I know?’
I don’t have to say anything else. Eleanor understands that I didn’t manage to speak to her. About any of the stuff that matters. Kisses that tasted of longing. The truth, for fuck’s sake.
She looks past me, up towards the doors. I don’t need to follow her gaze to know that Tori’s walked in. I turn my back on her even though everything within me is yearning to look at her. To go over to her, to make sure she’s all right.
‘Is everyone here?’ Mr Acevedo pops up from somewhere and looks around. His eyes rest on me. His eyebrows shoot up. I bite my bottom lip and stare at the floor. ‘Wonderful,’ he says. ‘Then let’s get started.’
We begin, as always, with a few warm-ups and I’m able to avoid any contact with Tori. It’s ridiculous. We both know it, and we’re both doing it all the same.
We practise a scene with the Nurse and Lady Capulet.
Then it’s just Eleanor and me. To my own surprise, never mind anyone else’s, I’m good.
I can use my anger and channel it into Romeo’s passion.
This might even be a chance to escape reality and no longer have to be the useless Charles Sinclair.
Romeo is the opposite of him. Romeo knows what he wants and has no difficulty conveying that to Juliet.
Because he’s not such a bloody coward. And because he is – God knows why – entirely confident that Juliet wants him as much as he does her.
It’s easy. It really is that bloody easy.
I act, and I forget reality. At least for a few minutes. Until I look into the auditorium. At Tori and her icy glare. It’s fucking her up how good we are. I can feel it, and I try to be better still. I’m an arsehole but I can’t help it.
I look at Eleanor and raise my intensity so high that I see amazement in her eyes.
Because it’s genuine. Because she’s no longer either Eleanor or Juliet, but Tori, and this is a version of reality in which I finally get to tell her what I’ve wanted to say for years.
There’s no risk. She will reciprocate. We’re doomed, but at least we’ll be side by side.
We fly through our scene and the kiss is looming.
This is going to be the first time we do it in front of the whole cast. At first, Mr Acevedo only let us rehearse the intimate scenes in front of him and Tori, but at the end of the year, it’ll be the whole cast plus the whole of Dunbridge Academy. Including Valentine Ward.
My pulse picks up as Eleanor looks at me and softly bites her bottom lip. I have to do this; I have to start. Hands on her cheeks, thumbs on her lips. Turn away from the audience slightly, so that it looks real.
Tori’s sitting in her seat like a block of ice. And I want to hurt her the way she hurt me.
‘“Your mouth has cleansed my lips from sin.”’ I touch Eleanor’s face, but I do so the way I touched Tori’s. Soft, firm, everything at once.
‘“Then give it back to me,”’ Eleanor replies.
And then I kiss her.
I kiss her properly. Eleanor hesitates for a fraction of a second and then she kisses me back. I can tell that it looks real because it feels real. It’s not acting, they are Romeo’s and Juliet’s mouths claiming each other and wanting more.
I wait for Eleanor to pull away, but she doesn’t. I kiss her longer than necessary. I do it on purpose. I kiss her with all my rage and pain, and hope that Tori can feel it.
‘Eleanor, Charles, please. I really must insist.’ I jump, the way I’ve done every time since Thursday night when someone’s said my first name and it hasn’t been Tori.
Did she even realize what she’d said? I did, at any rate, and I still get goosebumps at the mere thought of it.
She stressed it differently, she said it softly, as if it were a promise I’d break. And now she’s got the proof.
Mr Acevedo is waving his hands in the air as I pull away from Eleanor.
‘Wasn’t it good?’ I ask, without taking off Romeo’s arrogance.
‘It was very good, but ninety per cent of your audience are underage. We’ll have to send the juniors out if you’re going to repeat that on the big stage.’
The others laugh, Eleanor strokes her hair back from her face. Tori doesn’t move. And I don’t move either. I feel no triumph. No satisfaction. I feel her disappointment, her pain, and all at once I feel regret.
I don’t hear what Mr Acevedo says next. I think he’s happy otherwise. Gideon and Louis come up onto the stage, Tori stands up and says something to Mr Acevedo. He looks at her, then nods with understanding.
Her eyes meet mine as she turns away. I succeeded in hurting her the way she hurt me, and I want to make it unhappen. Right now. I want to apologize, and to cry. She’s pale. I feel sick. She leaves the room without even looking at me.