Chapter 6 #2
Sinclair’s chest is rising more rapidly as he looks out. It almost seems like he’s only just coming back to reality now. He looks kind of surprised by himself.
‘Thank you, Charles. That was . . . that was very good,’ says Mr Acevedo, as the applause dies away. He writes something down and clicks his pen. ‘Very nice. So . . . Is there anybody else?’
Sinclair mumbles, ‘Thank you,’ and leaves the stage. My stomach ties itself in knots as Eleanor taps happily on the seat beside her. She immediately leans over to Sinclair, almost before he’s sitting next to her again, and whispers something to him.
‘Nobody else?’ I jump as Mr Acevedo, who’s sitting in the front row, glances around over his shoulder. ‘This is your last chance.’
I feel the velvet upholstery under my clammy fingers and Val’s heavy arm on my shoulders. I can’t get up. I just can’t, however much I want to. I’m almost sure my knees would give way if I tried to now.
‘Tori.’ It’s Sinclair’s voice cutting through the hush. He’s stood up again and everyone turns towards him. ‘You wanted to, didn’t you?’
My blood runs cold, and a second later, I’m flushed hot.
Shit. What’s he up to? Does he think he’s doing me a favour? If so, he’s very much mistaken.
‘Victoria?’ Mr Acevedo looks up. ‘Last chance.’
Val gives a mirthless laugh. My face is burning.
Say something. Anything.
‘No, I . . . It’s OK.’
Sinclair’s staring at me; Mr Acevedo hesitates. A few seconds pass, my heart is racing. I don’t speak, just shake my head slightly. Then Mr Acevedo turns away again and claps his hands.
‘Good! Well, that’s that, then. Thank you all for auditioning, so many of you. I’ll be announcing the final cast shortly, so you can wait here until then.’
The first people stand up. Voices grow louder. There’s nothing but roaring in my head. Sinclair’s still looking in my direction.
‘Tori?’
‘Hm?’ I jump. Val’s stood up. ‘Are you coming or not?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, sure.’ My heart is thumping the heavy beat of overwhelm as I follow Val and his friends out of the gloomy theatre. The last of the daylight is falling through the foyer windows, but that’s not why the last hour and a half feels like a dream that I’m only slowly waking up from.
‘Sorry, I . . . I think I’ll just wait here a moment,’ I say, and stop still. Val’s a little way ahead and turns back towards me. ‘I wanted to ask Mr Acevedo something.’
He eyes me suspiciously. ‘OK. I’ve got training soon. See you later.’
‘Yeah, have fun.’ I smile, and watch Val follow his friends. I don’t know why I said that. I haven’t the least intention of asking Mr Acevedo anything.
‘Hey.’ I whirl around as I feel a touch on my arm and find myself looking straight into my best friend’s blue eyes. The urge to shake off Sinclair’s hand washes over me, almost irresistibly.
‘What?’ I snap at him. Sinclair freezes. He looks surprised by my grumpiness. I guess I should say something about his audition. Tell him it was great. Because it was. Amazing, even. But I can’t get a word out.
‘What was all that about?’ he asks slowly.
I force myself to breathe deeply. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Tori, you wanted to audition,’ he says, like I hadn’t known that. Oh, yeah, so I did. Almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me, pal. It’s not like I don’t know I wimped out. And it doesn’t feel great, but it’s too late now. So what can I do?
‘Yeah, I changed my mind.’ I turn away, but Sinclair’s holding me tight. My stomach lurches.
‘Tori,’ he growls. ‘Did he make some dumb remark?’
‘No!’ I say. ‘Do you really think I’m that easily influenced? I can make my own bloody decisions.’
Sinclair takes his hand away. It feels almost like someone pulled the ground out from beneath my feet.
‘But . . . why?’ he asks quietly.
‘I didn’t want to in the end. Doesn’t matter. I don’t have time this year anyway.’
Sinclair doesn’t reply. He spares me the humiliation of further questions.
Because that’s a downright lie. I’ve got classes and garden duty and library work, the book blog, Bookstagram, and TikTok, but I don’t play an instrument and I’m not on any of the sports teams. And Sinclair knows that.
He knows my timetable off by heart. Like I do his.
So he knows I’d have time for the play if it was important enough to me. But it isn’t. End of story.
He opens his mouth and, because attack is the best form of defence, I cut him off. ‘Why did you even audition anyway?’
Sinclair runs a hand awkwardly through his hair.
‘I, er . . .’ His eyes go past me. I wouldn’t have to look to know who he’s staring at.
But I do anyway. Why the hell? Seems like I enjoy torturing myself.
Eleanor is standing with her friends, apparently very deep in conversation.
Expansive hand movements, bright laughter.
A Capulet laugh, there’s no doubting that.
‘I see.’ I look back to Sinclair. ‘You were good. Maybe it’ll work out.’
‘You could ask Mr Acevedo if he might still let you—’
‘Exactly which part of I changed my mind didn’t you understand?’ I interrupt. ‘It’s got nothing to do with Val!’
‘Oh, no?’ Sinclair glares at me. ‘So why do you feel under attack the moment I even mention him?’
‘I don’t feel under attack.’
‘Yes, you do.’
I laugh unhappily. ‘Who do you think you are anyway?’
‘Someone who knows you.’ There’s a pleading tone in Sinclair’s voice now. He takes a step towards me. ‘Shit, Tori, it’s obvious. You’ve changed since you’ve been hanging around with Val and his gang.’
I don’t want to have this conversation. Especially not as there’s a little voice in my head screaming at me that Sinclair’s right.
But he has no idea. And what does he even want anyway?
He should just be happy that it looks like he’s about to be spending heaps of time with Eleanor.
Without me. That’s what he wants, after all.
‘Yeah, surprise, people change,’ I hiss. ‘Don’t have to explain that to you, do I?’
Sinclair narrows his eyes to slits. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘That I’m not the one who randomly turns up at auditions when he’s never acted in his life before.’
Sinclair eyes me sharply. ‘At least I’m not giving up on my dreams because some wanker laughed at them.’
I force myself to keep my voice down. ‘Are you jealous because I’m spending so much time with him?’
He laughs. ‘You know what? You can do one. Seriously, Tori, I’m not the one running around after bawbags, yelling at my friends when they’re worried about me.’
‘Oh, no?’ I retort, totally overwhelmed. ‘What’s all this with Eleanor, then? And, anyway, I’m not running around after Val because, unlike you, I’m at least noticed, as you recently remarked so correctly.’
What the hell? I ask myself, the second I’ve said the words.
Sinclair looks at me. Disbelieving at first, then full of disappointment. He’s seen through me and I hate myself for that, but instead of admitting to it, I had to go and hurt him back, just so he’d finally shut up.
Looks like I’ve succeeded.
He opens his mouth, as though he wants to say something else, but then he just snorts disdainfully and shakes his head.
‘Mr Acevedo’s announcing the cast,’ someone calls.
Sinclair turns away without looking at me again.
I should go. I really should just get out of here, but it’s like the theatre doorway is magically drawing me in.
So I follow everyone else but stop near the door.
Sinclair’s already gone down. I want to run to him and tell him I didn’t mean it.
That I said things I wish I could take back, but now it’s too late.
And, let’s be honest, if there hadn’t been the tiniest scrap of truth in them, I wouldn’t have had the desperate urge to say those words.
Does that make it any better?
Hardly . . .
SINCLAIR
This is the thing: if I feel unfairly treated and I’m pure raging, I can’t keep discussing things, I just want to cry.
That’s how it is. I lose every last scrap of self-control.
It’s shit, and I have no choice but to go back down the stairs, working at keeping my cool.
Because I can’t be certain whether Tori actually left or is coming back into the theatre as Mr Acevedo announces the cast.
I can’t stand conflict. No, worse than that, I hate it.
Seriously. There’s nothing worse. Especially when it’s Tori I’m telling things I don’t mean.
And the problem with knowing someone so well is being perfectly aware that she feels the same.
I saw it in Tori’s eyes, even while she was hurling insults at me. The instant regret.
All I can do is to force myself to stop thinking about it as I come to a stop down near the stage.
I don’t even hear Mr Acevedo’s first few sentences.
My head is full of rage at that fucker Valentine who’s making Tori go against her own wishes and principles.
I don’t get it. If you love someone, you should want the best for her or him.
And either Val really is as empty as he seems or he’s deliberately putting her down.
I don’t know which would be worse. The latter I guess, because he does it in this creepy way where he persuades her it’s what she actually wants.
But it isn’t. I know that. I saw the light in her eyes when she talked about the theatre and this opportunity.
God, she was the whole reason I came here.
But, no, Valentine had to go and sit there with her and fuck everything up.
Fifth-former Ismail cheers, which makes me jump, and his friends crowd round him.
I’m guessing he got picked for Lord Montague because Mr Acevedo goes on to say that Heather in the upper sixth will be the lady.
This is followed by Friar Laurence, Tybalt, the Apothecary, Paris .
. . I glance up at the door and Tori is actually there, arms crossed.
She looks at me and I instantly tear my eyes away.
Unlike you, I’m at least noticed.
She can get tae fuck.