Always Never Yours(3)
“You’re just nervous, Megan.” Jody crosses her arms, but her tone has softened. “Yours was the only audition other than Anthony Jenson’s that demonstrated a true understanding of the material. I’ve seen you direct Shakespeare before, I know you understand the play. You’re Juliet, whether you like it or not.”
“Jody, please.” Now I’m definitely pleading. “You know I only auditioned because SOTI has an acting requirement. I’ve never acted in my life.”
“It’s a learning experience. I’m not expecting you to win a Tony,” Jody says.
“Well, are you expecting Romeo and Juliet to be a comedy? No? Then—”
“Megan,” she cuts me off sternly. “You auditioned for the play. You got Juliet. You can take it or leave it, but I’ve cast every other role.”
I know I have no choice—Jody knows it, too. It’s already the end of September. This production’s my last chance for an acting credit before college applications are due in December.
“This is not going to go well for you.” I sigh in exasperation, reaching for the door.
* * *
I’ve taken one step outside Jody’s office when I run into something solid and flat.
“Whoa,” I hear above me.
Of course. I step back to find Tyler grinning down from the imposing height of six foot whatever. “Hey, Juliet,” he says, his deep voice working on me in ways I sincerely wish it didn’t. “This could be awkward, huh?”
It hits me suddenly. Tyler’s Romeo. And I’m Juliet.
I quickly recover. “Nothing could be more perfect than the two of us playing doomed lovers.”
He laughs and turns to face Madeleine, who’s come up beside him.
It’s not a big deal, but Tyler and I dated last year. Now we don’t. He’s with Madeleine, but I’m not jealous or resentful. In a way, I was expecting it.
Honestly, hating acting isn’t the only reason I don’t want to play Juliet. The other reason is, I’m not a Juliet. I’m not the girl in the center of the stage at the end of a love story. I’m the girl before, the girl guys date right before they find their true love. Every one of my relationships ends exactly the same.
Take Tyler. He’s the only guy I’ve ever felt myself close to falling in love with, and he dumped me six months ago to date my best friend. But I’m okay, really. Everyone knows Tyler and Madeleine are meant to be. Besides, I’m used to it.
It started when I was eleven. I’d just proclaimed to Lucy Regis my undying love for Ryan Reynolds with the intention to marry him. The next day we found out he’d married Blake Lively. Not that that was a real example. Just an omen of things to come.
The first boy I kissed, in seventh grade, passed me a note in social studies the next day informing me he was going to ask Samantha Washington to the Hometown Fair. They’ve been together ever since. Freshman year, my first real boyfriend ended up cheating on me with the literal girl next door, who, it turned out, was Lucy Regis. They just celebrated their third anniversary.
It’s happened time and time again. It’s not a “curse” or something stupid like that—it’s just more than a coincidence. And it’s why I couldn’t possibly get into the head of Juliet, western literature’s icon of eternal love. If the world’s a stage, like Shakespeare wrote, then I’m a supporting role. Or hidden in the wings.
“You’re not going to steal my boyfriend, are you?” Madeleine teases, wrapping an arm around Tyler.
“No, that’s your thing,” I chide without thinking.
Madeleine’s face immediately falls, and I’m afraid she’s going to cry for the hundredth time. When Madeleine confessed to me her feelings for my then-boyfriend, it took two hours of hugs and reassurance before the guilty tears ended. It’s not like they cheated—Madeleine’s so ridiculously thoughtful that she told me before she even told him.
And it hurt. I won’t pretend it didn’t. But I knew the pattern. I knew what was going to happen with me and Tyler. And I understood I’d only get hurt worse trying to fight the inevitable. Better to let the relationship end before I fell for him for real.
I rush to put a hand on her arm. “It was just a dumb joke, Madeleine,” I tell her. “You two are perfect.”
She smiles, relieved, and leans into Tyler.
“You guys coming to the cast party?” Tyler asks.
“Where?” Cast parties are a Stillmont drama institution. Drama’s sixth period, but rehearsal can extend until 5 or 6 in the evening. For every production, the cast and crew choose one location for post-rehearsal dinners and parties. I’m just hoping it’s not Tyler’s house.
“Verona, of course.” He grins like this is amusing.
I groan. Stillmont’s an hour from the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland. It’s not a coincidence we’re one of the strongest high-school drama programs in the state, probably the country. When I’m not being forced to play the most famous female role in theater, I feel pretty lucky to have a teacher like Jody, not to mention the departmental funding. Unfortunately, however, proximity to Ashland has its downsides. Namely, an inordinate amount of Shakespeare-themed establishments. Verona Pizza is one of the worst.