Always Never Yours(80)
I’m stunned speechless for a second. Tyler is somehow a worse guy than I thought he was—than I knew he was. Even when he cheated on me and dumped me, I never expected he could be capable of something like this. Hurting Madeleine for no reason just to have something he’s had and replaced.
“We did this, Tyler,” I hear myself say. “Remember? You’re the one who didn’t want me anymore.”
He tries to place a hand on my arm, but I twist away. “It’s just, doing the play with you, being here with you,” he begins, “I’m remembering what it was like when we first got together. We had something really great for a while.”
“We did.” I glare at him. “Until you chose Madeleine.”
He holds his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Forget it, then.” I watch him cross the room to his suitcase and pull out his script. “You want to run the lines?”
I stand there with shock written on my face, not believing anybody could possibly shrug this off. But there he is, already opening the play. “No, I don’t want to run lines,” I spit. Doubting he’ll bother to reply, I leave his room and hurl the door closed behind me.
I don’t get two steps before my heart sinks. Tomorrow, I’ll have to do a lot more than run lines with Tyler. I’ll have to run the entire play, in front of everyone. The thought makes me want to drink poison and lock myself in a sepulcher.
TWENTY-FOUR
ROMEO: Is the day so young?
BENVOLIO: But new struck nine.
ROMEO: Ay me, sad hours seem long.
I.i.164–6
I WAKE UP THE NEXT MORNING AT 10:14 a.m., having slept for ten hours. I’m pretty certain it’s a personal record. I only woke up briefly before 7:30 room checks when Alyssa snuck back in. The next time I woke up, she was gone.
I reach to the nightstand to grab the schedule Jody passed out on the bus. I’ve missed breakfast, I discover. Rehearsal’s supposed to start in an hour, which means I should get up. I should get ready to endure Owen ignoring me, to withstand Alyssa’s scowls and face Tyler, to play the role of a beloved, lovestruck girl who I really, really hate.
I stay in bed instead.
I know I have to tell Madeleine, but I also know doing so will ruin her relationship, a relationship everyone thought was perfect. It’s not fair, when I think about it. It’ll be my words that hurt her, even though it’s Tyler who did something wrong. I’m not up to giving her that call just yet.
If not for me, Madeleine wouldn’t have anything to find out about Tyler. And if not for me, Mom wouldn’t have to be reminded of or talk to the person who broke her heart. She would’ve moved on the way she wanted when she moved out. She might’ve even been happy if I hadn’t been there to reopen wounds she’d tried to forget. None of this is my fault, but it is because of me.
The thought hits me then, involuntarily, like it’s come from somewhere outside me. Like someone else wrote it down and shoved it into my hand, the world’s worst love note.
I’m the reason everyone close to me gets hurt.
Rehearsal time comes and passes. I don’t budge, staring up at the ceiling from under the covers. It’s six minutes into rehearsal when the texts start. The first three from Bridget Molloy, the stage manager, with increasing urgency culminating in a long string of exclamation points. One from Tyler, just u coming? A longer one from Jenna notifying me that Jody’s freaking out and is going to send someone to my room in two minutes.
I wait ten minutes, refusing to get out of this bed until I’m dragged by the ankles. Nobody comes.
I’m dozing off when a final text lights up my phone.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Anthony’s name on my screen stabs me with a sliver of guilt. I remember what this performance means to him. It’d destroy him if this show was ruined, and especially if his best friend let it happen.
It’s not just Anthony, either. There’s Jason Mitchum, who really learned to swordfight from YouTube tutorials to play Tybalt. Jenna, whom I overheard murmuring her lines to herself the entire bus ride. And then there’s Owen, who loves every word of Romeo and Juliet with a deeper appreciation than any actor I’ve ever worked with.
This play is important to people other than Tyler Dunning. People who are important to me. Showing up and playing Juliet is one small opportunity I have not to hurt them. And am I really ready to throw away my chance to go to the college I’ve dreamt of since I was a kid? I launch myself out of bed, throw on a pair of jeans and a parka, and fly out the door.
I run the three blocks to the theater, the cold biting my lungs, and thread between bicyclists and coffee-carrying pedestrians. I’m out of breath by the time I hit Pioneer Street, which fortunately isn’t crowded because it’s the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s official off-season. The rounded back of the Elizabethan theater goes by on my left as I rush down the hill to the Angus Bowmer Theatre straight ahead.
Throwing open the door, I burst into the auditorium. Our monastery set is on the stage. No one is seated in the audience, unlike at school, except Bridget with her headset and Jody with her clipboard and a pencil pressed to her lips.
“I long to die if what thou speak’st speak not of remedy,” I hear from the stage, and despite my parka and the overactive theater heating, I feel a chill run through me. That’s my line . . . but I’m not on stage. I watch motionless as Alyssa walks to my mark while Owen gives Friar Lawrence’s reply. She doesn’t stumble over a single line, delivering Juliet’s desperate dialogue flawlessly. Better than I would’ve.