Always Never Yours(16)

“Thanks, Megan, really,” she breathlessly says over her shoulder, and runs toward class. I follow her out, my mind lingering on what she said before.

It’s not like I still have feelings for Tyler or even want him back. It’s just unexpectedly nice to know what he and I had hasn’t been entirely forgotten, even if he’ll be giving a night of tender, fumbling, teenage love to my best friend this weekend.



* * *





Yet unfortunately, I’m the one in bed with Tyler after school.

In a prop bed, specifically. With the entire cast watching us. We’re in the drama room, the plastic chairs arranged in rows in front of the open space we’re using for a stage.

The bed’s not even Juliet’s, either. It’s a leftover from the spring musical, Rent, and it’s completely period-inappropriate —black and wrought-iron and unmistakably ’90s. Will hasn’t finished any of the set pieces, although I’ve taken every opportunity to admire his after-school shirtless construction process.

We’re rehearsing Act III Scene v, the one where Romeo and Juliet wake up together after their own night of tender, (probably) fumbling, teenage love. We’re both lying on our sides, Tyler behind me, pressed a little too tightly to my hips. The closeness combined with his Romeo eyes isn’t helping me forget Madeleine’s words from earlier. Not in a good way—it’s just uncomfortable.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jody tells us from the front row of seats.

Before I can start the scene, I feel Tyler brush my hair behind my ear. Then he kisses me on the temple. I jerk and nearly bust him in the lip.

“Good, Tyler,” Jody calls. “I liked that.”

I rush through my lines, knowing the sooner I finish the scene, the sooner I can get out of this bed. “Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear. Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree—”

Jody interrupts me. “Juliet’s trying to get Romeo to come back to bed. You sound like he couldn’t leave fast enough.” She’s pursing her lips in a bit of a smile, like she knows just how true her appraisal is. Some of the cast laughs in the audience, and I catch Alyssa rolling her eyes in frustration.

“Well, I . . .” I start, searching for some interpretive explanation to defend my discomfort. “I’d like to play Juliet feistier. You know, modernize her.” Honestly, if I were directing, I’d be into the approach.

Jody nods, considering. “Okay, but you still have to make the scene work,” she says. “Go from the top.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to find my inner Juliet. When I open them, Tyler’s gazing down at me with a teasingly longing look. “Wilt thou be gone!” I snap, knowing I’m throwing the scene out the window. But I just can’t handle Tyler. His expression changes, and the amorous Romeo fades from his features. He’s just Tyler, irritated with his ex-girlfriend.

I sit up and face Jody. “Okay, I know that was too much, but—”

“Megan,” she cuts me off. “Feisty Juliet works well for when she meets Romeo. It doesn’t work here. We have to believe Juliet is so in love with Romeo she would die for him.” I notice Alyssa watching me from the audience, smug. “You need to spend some time with the play,” Jody continues. “Really learn how to get into Juliet’s head.”

I give Jody a look saying, you knew this would happen. “Okay,” I reply even though I know it’s impossible. The best I can hope for is faking it. But it doesn’t matter if I pull this off, I remind myself. I’m not an actress, I’m not meant for the spotlight. I just have to get my acting credit and get through this play.





SIX




ROMEO: Can I go forward when my heart is here?





Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out.


II.i.1–2


THE HOUSE IS A MESS WHEN I get home.

With rehearsal over, I can finally push Juliet out of my mind and focus on something important. I rush up to my room, where I throw on the most professional outfit I own—a tan dress I never wear in my daily life and a blazer I borrowed from Rose’s closet. Trying to quell my nerves, I bound back downstairs.

I have to leave in ten minutes for my SOTI interview. But first, I search under piles of Dad’s paperwork and Erin’s sticky toys in the kitchen. I printed my arts résumé before school, and I know I left it on the kitchen counter, which I guess experienced a natural disaster in the last eight hours. I push aside one of Erin’s arts and crafts projects and clumsily stick my hand into a glob of glitter glue. Even though it’d definitely make my application stand out, I’m going to have to have some stern words with my baby sister if she’s turned my résumé into her latest sparkly impressionistic work.

My eyes fall on what’s underneath Erin’s finger-painting, and I stop.

It’s a real estate magazine. But not one of the Oregon ones I’ve seen in some of my friends’ houses—it’s full of listings in New York.

I pick it up, dazed. Why would my dad and Rose have a magazine of homes in New York? But the moment the question forms in my head, I know the answer, and suddenly my worries about the interview feel distant.