Inevitable and Only(17)

Zephyr finally looked up at me. I was momentarily stunned by the brightness of his eyes—they were honey-colored, almost amber. He narrowed them, then threw back his head and laughed, and I jumped. “What, my dear Lady Disdain? Are you yet living?” He spat the words at me, rude, mocking.

I stood up a little straighter and matched his tone, shooting my next lines at him like little arrows. We went back and forth like that, and then he started to circle me like a wrestler sizing up an opponent. I expected Robin to yell “Stop moving!” again, but he kept quiet, so I moved away from Zephyr as I said my next lines, as if keeping a large round table between us. I had to, if I didn’t want him to crash into me.

“God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall ‘scape a predestinate scratched face.” He reached out suddenly and swiped at my face. I pulled back instinctively.

“Scratching could not make it worse, an ‘twere such a face as yours were.” I jabbed a finger at his nose.

“Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.” That laugh again.

“A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.” I was really mad now at the way Zephyr was getting into my space, that mocking tone of voice, the way he was forcing me to speak more quickly to keep up with him.

But then he slowed down suddenly, drawing out his words to make the speed at which I’d been talking sound even more absurd. “I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer. But keep your way, in God’s name; I have done.”

That was the end of the page. We stared at each other, both breathing hard.

Robin clapped his hands together twice and said, “Next!” and Zephyr jumped off the edge of the stage and headed for the classroom. I lingered, though, and watched the next few auditions. Robin barked instructions at everyone else—“Stop moving!” or “Speak up!” or “What’s that? You’re mumbling! Mumble not in the house of the Bard, people!” But he hadn’t said a word to Zephyr and me.

Robin gathered everyone at the end of class and announced that audition results would be posted the next morning right after Meeting.

“We are going to read great swaths of Shakespeare this year,” he said. “So even if you don’t land a role in the play, you’ll be practicing scenes in class all semester. Thank you all for your fine work today. Go home, do your reading, we’ll start in on The Crucible tomorrow.”

Great swaths of Shakespeare. It sounded like something Dad would say.

And just like that, I was back in the real world. Where tonight, I would be meeting my half sister for the first time.





CHAPTER SEVEN


By 7:45, Dad hadn’t called yet. Their train was due in at 7:15; he was supposed to call when they arrived at Penn Station, and Mom was going to pick them up.

“Trains always run late,” Mom grumbled. She kept straightening things that didn’t need to be straightened—a Klimt print on the wall, the fifth chair we’d added to the table. It didn’t match the others, of course—it was just a folding chair.

Mostly to distract her, I said, “Mom, I asked Farhan Mazandarani to go to the Fall Ball with me. He said yes.”

Mom’s head swung around slowly like a brontosaurus’s. She stared at me. “Farhan Mazan … ?”

“Yeah, you remember, the boy who snorted ice cream through a straw at my ninth birthday party?”

Mom raised her eyebrows.

“He’s way beyond that now, I swear.”

“Acadia, I didn’t realize you were going to the Fall Ball.”

“You promised I could go this year! Remember?”

“Well, yes. But we’ll need to discuss who you’re going with, and what the driving arrangements will be, and whether you’ll—”

Then we heard keys in the lock, the front door swung open, and there they were.

“Hello, hello, hello!” Dad said.

Mom started to say something, but Dad cut her off. “We splurged on a cab! Didn’t want to make you come all the way out to get us.”

I could tell Mom was furious at being blindsided by the change in plans, at being confronted by Elizabeth’s sudden presence in the house without having time to prepare herself. At Dad, who never spent money on cabs, and who was holding a fresh bouquet of lilies, purple this time. We were probably all going to hate the scent of lilies for the rest of our lives. But Mom bustled forward and grabbed a few suitcases, set them down in the living room, then returned to give Elizabeth a hug.

“It’s so good to meet you, dear. We’re all so happy to have you here.”

Mom was speaking in a high-pitched, tight voice, and she always called us Spanish pet names—I’d never heard her call someone “dear” before. Unless maybe you counted the fawn at the Maryland State Fair petting zoo, which was, objectively, a deer.

Elizabeth, standing on the welcome mat, smiled hesitantly at us. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She was pale and had dark circles under her eyes, but she had done her best to cover it up with a tasteful amount of makeup.

I tried to take her in at a quick glance without staring. She was picking nervously at the sleeve of her navy blue cardigan, half-buttoned over a white blouse. Her whole outfit, down to the argyle socks and brown loafers, said 100% Genuine Prep School. She even had pearls in her earlobes and a delicate gold necklace. And she did not appear to be wearing any of those items ironically.