Chapter 19
June
Theater class had barely started when the teacher stood up, cursing like a sailor. The string of words that the teacher spewed made everyone in the theater laugh, and the assistant next to him turned purple.
“Jesus fucking Christ! I swear I’m gonna expel you again if it’s the last thing I do!
You’re good for nothing! The worst Romeo in the history of theater!
I can’t handle these miscreants any longer!
I’m leaving, you’re in charge, Miss Kavanagh.
Good luck. Send the principal the psychiatrist bill he’ll have to pay after spending months comprehending these dingbats! ”
“And that would be the theater teacher?” I asked Brian, who was sitting next to me.
“Can you blame him?”
Brian motioned to the stage where James Hunter was standing, unconcerned by the teacher’s reaction. A black T-shirt hung on his chest, covered by a studded leather jacket on his shoulders.
“James, please don’t vape. Not onstage.” The flustered assistant was a few seats away from us.
James shrugged. “What’s the problem? Romeo never vaped?”
“Well, actually, Shakespeare doesn’t mention . . .” The woman shrank in her seat, then riffled through the notes on her lap.
On the other hand, James looked completely relaxed as he continued to inhale more vaping fluid than oxygen.
“I saw the old movie with Leonardo DiCaprio, and Romeo definitely smoked. Does that mean that smoking didn’t make him look like a bad boy at the time?”
“It’s beautiful and damned, James,” The teacher said.
A wave of feminine giggles made me roll my eyes.
Suddenly the collective laughter gave way to the clickety-clack of Taylor’s footsteps. She stopped right below the stage looking anything but happy.
“I’ll stick that vape pen where the sun don’t shine!” she shouted, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
Miss Kavanagh looked like she was about to faint.
“Miss Hart!” she reprimanded weakly.
But Taylor obviously wasn’t paying attention. She pointed a finger at James, who looked down at her with his usual impudence.
“I called you eight times yesterday!”
“Congratulations, do you want a standing ovation for being the most insufferable Juliet in history?”
“No, the applause should go to the airhead you were banging at the party the other night while knowing that you were already spoken for!”
“Miss Hart!” James taunted, mimicking the assistant. “Anyhow, if you’d like to think there was only one, be my guest,” he added.
“You son of a—” Taylor lunged toward the stage.
“Guys!” Miss Kavanagh exclaimed.
“Please, don’t interrupt, there’s a real tragedy about to take place!” James exclaimed, amused. Jackson and Marvin laughed like two idiots.
“You’re the one who’s gonna have a tragic ending when I cut off what’s between your legs, asshole!”
Taylor was going for the jugular, and I wasn’t complaining.
“Go fuck yourself, James! Look, Romeo and Juliet can go fuck themselves for all I care. I’m not playing her anymore!” Taylor shouted, directing all her rage at the poor teacher, before channeling her anger at James. “But I’ll watch the show. You know why, you half-wit?”
“Why?”
“Because Romeo dies, and I can’t wait for you to meet the same ending. Dickhead!”
A standing ovation—that’s what that girl deserved. I would’ve given her one and clapped so hard that my hands turned red. But I’d be the only one in class clapping, so I held back.
Taylor ran off flushed and seeing red.
“Okay, apart from that pause that was a little too eventful for my taste, uh, we need to move forward with rehearsal. The play has to be ready by December.”
“That was a hell of a show, huh,” I commented.
Brian smiled. “They do it every month and then they get back together. If they aren’t soulmates . . .”
“Soulmates?” I muttered, confused.
I’d forgotten that Brian held on to that bizarre romantic notion. Meanwhile, the assistant was now a nervous wreck.
“We need another Juliet!”
I sank into my seat when the teacher turned toward us and looked right at me.
“Oh, June White, right? You’re the new girl.”
I nodded quickly, hoping that her attention would shift elsewhere.
“I bet you don’t get any credit for extracurriculars. Can you get onstage for a minute?”
“Me?” I squawked in disbelief.
My eyes darted to the opposite row where William was sitting with Jackson and Marvin, not even looking at the stage.
“So what do I say?” I murmured.
“‘I can’t, I’m surfing the crimson tide,’” Poppy said from behind me. “That’s my excuse for everything. Try it. It really works.”
I decided not to back down, took a deep breath, and slowly walked up onstage, where the assistant handed me some sheets of paper.
James Hunter looked shocked and disgusted.
“June, try reading these lines,” the assistant prompted.
“Who the hell is June?”
“Is that funny?” I snapped, annoyed.
“Oh no. Look at that, all of the sudden I’m not the right person to play Romeo,” said James solemnly, pretending to read the lines. He blew smoke in my face then jumped offstage.
“James! Where are you going? Did you already memorize your lines?” the assistant yelled.
“If you find someone else.”
“Class isn’t over, where are you going?” she protested frantically.
“None of your fucking business.”
I watched him slam the door, and at that point I realized that everyone was watching.
The silence seemed to last forever.
Embarrassment got the best of me, and my stomach writhed painfully. I kept my eyes on the floor, unable to react. I heard a wave of murmurs until a silhouette finally approached the stage.
“I can do it.” William’s voice.
“Okay, here are your lines, Romeo.”
The assistant handed him a small folder with thick packets of pages. William smiled at them. He seemed intent on not disappointing her.
“Let’s see how it goes, and then if the teacher . . .”
The assistant continued to drone on, but William and I were so close that we could whisper to each other.
“Can I talk to you?”
“I don’t think it’s a good time.” He sounded annoyed.
“I know, but I’d like an explanation for what happened.”
“You want an explanation, June?”
“Are we starting or not?” The door flung open and the theater teacher walked in holding a hamburger overflowing with mustard. “Where’d that vandal end up?”
The assistant got agitated again. “I sent him away!” she lied to save face.
“I’m guessing you gained some respect for once, Miss Kavanagh.” She looked at us desperately.
“All right, let’s try it. Go on. Quickly. I don’t care about the lines. Recite it now.” The teacher was getting impatient.
“Wait, what do we have to do?” William looked more confused than I was.
“Act one, scene five! Let’s go!”
I leafed through the pages as William came within an inch of my chest and started reading.
“‘If I profane with my unworthiest hand
“‘This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
“‘My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
“‘To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.’”
Kiss? What were we reading?
“Um.” I cleared my throat. “‘Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
“‘Which mannerly devotion shows in this,
“‘For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
“‘And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.’”
“‘Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?’” asked William.
“‘Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,’” I mumbled, embarrassed.
“‘O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.
“‘They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’”
I didn’t understand every single line—Shakespeare was a bit convoluted for my taste—but William was really good. He was convincing, and the way he looked at me made my stomach do flips.
“‘Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,’” I added.
“‘Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.’”
William lowered his chin and leaned in to give me a soft kiss on the lips.
“‘Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged,’” he whispered.
Our eyes locked, and our breath became intertwined. “‘Then have my lips the sin that they have took.’”
With his lips barely touching mine, he said his last line. “‘Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
“‘Give me my sin again.’”
This time we kissed for real. It was a kiss with tongue and swollen lips.
The teacher coughed to interrupt us, inviting us to go on.
I had the last line.
“‘You kiss by th’ book,’” I murmured, closing out the scene. Someone clapped.
William’s gray eyes darted around, then he smiled sheepishly at me.
The teachers were talking, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I was in my little bubble, where everything was William and his soft lips.
“What happened to you?” I quietly asked him again. I needed an answer.
William lowered his head to avoid answering. “I gotta go to class, June.”
We’d just had our second, incredible kiss. Why did he want to leave?
I started thinking that maybe Blaze was right. William was hiding something. After theater class, I grabbed my books from my locker and noticed Ari, Amelia, and Poppy whispering excitedly.
I didn’t know how to act. Was I still friends with them? Was I ever really friends with them?
“June! Are you coming with us?” Ari yelled as soon as I passed them. I saw her long ponytail cascading over her thin shoulders.
“Where?”
“We want to go out,” said Poppy.
Amelia put her index finger to her lips, motioning for me to stay quiet.
“You want to leave? Now? Why?”
“What kind of question is that? Is there ever not a valid reason to skip school?” Ari teased me, amused.
I didn’t want to be a square, but I’d seen them smoking pot and drinking alcohol at the party, and now they wanted to cut class?
“All right, we’re going,” Amelia said authoritatively, motioning for her friends to follow her like loyal puppies.
Is this what it meant to make friends? Compromising like this to not be alone?
“Hold on, I’m coming,” I blurted, picking up my pace.
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