Always Never Yours(49)

“Do you have a cast yet?” he asks after a second, and I’m relieved he’s taking an interest.

“No, why?” I raise an eyebrow flirtatiously. “You interested?”

“I might be,” he says slowly. “If I’m promised special attention from the director.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

He grins. Then without warning, he takes my hand and pulls me toward the front of the shop. “A first date merits a first gift. Don’t you think?” he asks over his shoulder.

Butterflies I haven’t felt in a while flutter in my chest. “You don’t have to,” I half protest, enjoying Will’s affection if a bit thrown by the gesture.

“I insist,” he says unhesitatingly. He doesn’t slow his steps, and I follow him.

Near the front, I find my eyes drifting to the shelf of leather-bound notebooks on one side of the door. I admired them the past couple times I was here, and—

“This.” Will holds up a black bracelet. “This is perfect.”

Oh. “It’s beautiful,” I’m quick to say.

He gives me a pleased smile. When he places it on the glass counter by the register, I notice there’s a word engraved on the inside. Or—a name.

“Ophelia?” I ask.

Will hands a twenty to the cashier while turning to me. “Yeah!” he says enthusiastically. “Isn’t Hamlet the best? Or, like, definitely”—he holds up a hand, correcting himself—“one of the best.”

He takes the bracelet out of its packaging and hands it to me. I slip it on with a grateful smile, choosing to overlook that Ophelia does nothing for the entire play except obsess over her boyfriend until she goes crazy. And it gives me a quiet, familiar thrill. I appreciate Will’s eagerness, his affection, and what it represents—togetherness. It doesn’t matter what the bracelet says. It’s a gift from my boyfriend.





FIFTEEN




MERCUTIO: A plague o’ both your houses!

III.i.111


DESPITE THE SUCCESS OF WILL’S AND MY date, I get to school on Monday in not exactly the greatest of moods. When I went home on Saturday, two hours and one torrid make-out session in the Shakespeare section later, I overheard my dad on the phone. It was on speaker, and I only stuck around long enough to figure out he and Rose were talking to a realtor whom they’d hired to appraise the house. To put a price tag on seventeen years of homemade dinners, birthday parties, fights, tears, and memories.

For the first time ever, I stopped myself before instinctively texting Madeleine. There’s a part of me, a very big part, that wanted to tell her what I’d overheard. But then I remembered that I’m not talking to her. That she’s not the friend I thought she was.

I ignore her during English and pass her without looking at her between classes. Eventually, I notice Anthony’s giving me the same treatment. But I have Will to distract me, a task he accomplishes with impressive tongue work, and the day goes pretty much okay. Until lunch.

I walk to the hill outside the drama room, knowing Madeleine’s going to be there. I’m not going to talk to her. Not a chance. But I’ve decided I won’t be the one to run from her. She’s not going to steal my boyfriend and my lunch spot.

I march right into the middle of the group and sit down next to Owen. I can feel Madeleine looking imploringly at me. “Hey, Megan,” she pleads. “Can we talk? I tried calling you this weekend.”

Without looking at her, I unwrap the chicken-salad sandwich Rose insisted on packing for me. “There’s a reason I didn’t pick up.” Not wanting this conversation to go any further, I pointedly turn to Kasey Markowitz, the junior who played Olivia in Twelfth Night. “Kasey, I know you’re a junior, but I want you to sign up for my senior scene. I’m doing a gender-flipped Happy Loman, and I think you’d be great.”

She flushes, obviously flattered, but Madeleine interrupts.

“You’re seriously just ignoring me right now?” Her tone’s gone from pleading to pissed.

I finally whip my head in her direction. “I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood to talk to my former best friend who was screwing around with my boyfriend behind my back.” Next to her, Tyler’s eyes widen, and I briefly wonder if she even told him that I know.

Everyone falls silent, and Madeleine’s cheeks ignite. Hurriedly, she drops her Thermos into her bag and gets to her feet, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands. Tyler tosses me an apologetic look. “I have to . . .” He gestures in her direction. “I’m sorry, Megan,” he says before leaving to follow Madeleine. I don’t know if he’s apologizing for walking away from the conversation or for betraying me while we were dating. Either way, I’m not ready to deal with how furious I am with Tyler.

Everyone gradually resumes their conversations, occasionally stealing glances in my direction. Everyone except Owen, who leans into me. “I’m getting the sense something . . . changed since we talked about Tyler and Madeleine.”

Seriously? Now? “Get your notebook out, Owen. I’ve got some great material for you,” I snap.

He jerks back. “What? No.” He sounds stunned, even hurt. “I’m not trying to get material. I’m trying to be your friend.”