Inevitable and Only(37)
“They have an internship we could apply for,” said Heron, as if she were saying, They have a roomful of gold coins that they don’t want anymore and they gave us garbage bags to fill.
“Wow, that’s great!” I said. “Zephyr was just telling me about a drama camp in New York. Have you guys ever considered drama camp?”
“Oh, I went to the summer program here every year in junior high,” said Heron. “That’s how I pulled strings to get us backstage.”
Micayla nodded. “I did the program at Center Stage two summers ago. I was too busy with my art classes at MICA this past summer, but the Center Stage thing was fun. You should definitely consider it.”
I had no idea I was so behind. Or so inexperienced. Had everyone else in this class been on stage since they were in diapers?
Someone came out to the podium then to start the preshow lecture, and I pulled out my notebook to take notes. I needed all the help I could get.
Robin had warned us not to see this as an opportunity to copy the professional actors, but rather to collect ideas on what we liked and didn’t like about the production. We were supposed to write a one-page review for homework and another page of new ideas about our own character, or for the lights, costumes, and scenery, if you were on crew.
The curtain finally went up to reveal Leonato, Hero, and Beatrice sitting on the stoop outside an apartment building, with Leonato’s messenger hovering at his elbow. The Shakespeare Theatre’s set designers had definitely tried to “say something” with the costumes and scenery, contrary to Peg’s views—they’d set the play in mid-twentieth-century Chicago, with Leonato, Don John, and Don Pedro all dressed like Italian mafiosos. Oh, and for some reason, there was half a grand piano hanging from the rafters. After seeing the production once already, I still wasn’t sure if the set and costumes made any sense to me. I put it all down on my “Don’t Like” list.
It was amazing how much more I saw the second time through. Beatrice talks about Benedick from the very first scene—she’s already crazy about him, she just doesn’t realize it. Or maybe she won’t admit it to herself. She’s fiercely intelligent and independent and doesn’t have the patience for any man who can’t match her wit. When Beatrice and Benedick finally do start to fall for each other, it’s partly because their friends trick each of them into thinking the other one is secretly in love with them. But it’s also partly through words, through a meeting of minds—they barely mention each other’s physical appearance. It’s the anti-Romeo-and-Juliet play. Beatrice visibly lights up in their scenes of verbal sparring. And Benedick dissects her sarcastic comments and manages to interpret them as cleverly disguised words of love. He’s the stereotypical teenage girl, I thought, and had to stifle a laugh.
Halfway through the first act, I decided I did like the costumes after all. Hero was wearing a poodle skirt and her hair was styled in a perfect ’50s flip—you could practically see her salivating at the chance to cook and vacuum for Claudio, happily, in high heels, without Prozac, for the rest of her life. Beatrice, on the other hand, was costumed in pants and a no-frills oxford shirt, a sweater tied around her shoulders, her hair pulled back in a loose braid. She looked pretty but comfortable. Dressed for no one but herself, I jotted in my notes.
Micayla and Heron were scribbling away, too. Zephyr wasn’t. He was slouched in his seat, his eyes half-closed. I thought he was falling asleep until I realized he was mouthing along silently with some of the lines. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, not boredom.
At intermission, the lights came back up and Heron and Micayla started discussing their notes, talking at breakneck speed. Zephyr pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned. It was buzzing. He got out of his seat as he answered it and made his way to the aisle. As he went, I heard him say, “Ava, I can’t talk right now, I’m at a play—no, with my class—”
Hmm.
“Hey,” I said, interrupting Micayla and Heron, “is there anyone who goes to Fern Grove named Ava?”
“Nope,” said Heron. “Why?”
“Nothing. Just wondering. How are you so sure?”
“I used to work in the cafeteria swiping meal cards. If there’s an Ava, she’d have to be in the primary school. I know all the names in the high school and the junior high. Anyway, what’d you think about the first half?”
Maybe Zephyr had a sister.
Or friends outside of school. What a concept, I heard Raven’s dry voice say in my head. Maybe Ava was a friend from his old school, or from drama camp. I didn’t know why I cared, anyway. Except that he was such an enigma.
Micayla and Heron and I went out to the lobby for hot chocolate, which of course meant that as soon as we took our first sips, the lights blinked, signaling the end of intermission. You couldn’t bring beverages into the theater, so we gulped them down and went back in with burnt tongues.
Zephyr slid into his seat just before the curtain went up again. He was still frowning.
None. Of. Your. Business, my brain reminded me. Nosypants Greenfield.
In the second half of the play, Beatrice and Benedick finally confess their love to each other. Which means, of course, since it’s a romantic comedy, they kiss.
I didn’t remember the actors holding it nearly this long the first time I’d seen the play with Dad. Benedick swept Beatrice off her feet and carried her to a couch upstage to continue the embrace more horizontally, not letting his lips leave hers all the way across the stage. The audience let out a collective sigh of satisfaction.