by Barbara Dee
“Why do the families hate each other?” Willow asked.
Mr. Torres shrugged. “All we know is that they have an ‘ancient grudge.’ The reason isn’t important. Why do people ever hate each other? It’s usually not for anything rational or specific, right?”
“In West Side Story it’s because they’re different ethnic groups,” Keisha said. “And the white kids think the Puerto Rican kids are taking their turf.”
“Exactly. And you realize that West Side Story is an updated Romeo and Juliet, right?”
“But couldn’t we just do West Side Story instead?” Charlotte pleaded.
“No, Charlotte, we could not,” Mr. Torres replied. “And here’s why: Because this is English class, and we’re gonna English-class this play. Now let’s get started, humans.”
As Mr. Torres handed out paperback copies of Romeo and Juliet, I thought that Tessa might explode from excitement. Her face was pink, and she was bouncing in her seat while she turned the pages of the play, silently mouthing the words. Elijah was frowning as he read the first page; I remembered how he’d said he hated wearing costumes, and of course this was a costumey play. Willow, Charlotte, and Isabel were whispering to each other, probably deciding who would get which parts. Liam was sneaking a look at his phone, Ajay was staring out the window, and Keisha was peeking at the last few pages, her face pinched, as if she was afraid she might burst into tears.
And me? I caught Mr. Torres’s eye. He smiled.
“Mattie, why don’t you read aloud?” he said. “Act One, Scene One. Let’s start with the chorus.”
9
“I pray, sir, can you read?”
“Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.”
—Romeo and Juliet, I.ii.57–58
When school was over, Tessa declared she needed a cup of fro-yo or she’d die. I said maybe it was too soon to return to Verona’s; Lucy said she thought enough time had passed, as long as we (she looked right at Tessa) kept our voices down and behaved. Finally, we agreed to go—but that if Willow or any of her friends showed up, we’d leave. No point risking another fight, and possibly even permanent banishment.
That day I got peanut butter with chocolate chips, Lucy got mango with chopped strawberries, and Tessa got a combination of Oreo and banana with mini-marshmallows, Raisinets, gumdrops, and crushed pretzels. (I know.)
I watched her shove a giant spoonful into her mouth. “O, Oreo, Oreo, wherefore art thou Oreo?” she said. “That which we call a fro-yo by any other name would taste as sweet— Hey, guys, don’t you think I’d be a perfect Juliet?”
“Is that the part you want?” I asked, avoiding her question.
“Obviously,” Tessa said. “Who doesn’t?”
She had a point. At dismissal I’d heard a bunch of girls from Mrs. Dimona’s class talking about auditions. Competition for Juliet was going to be insane.
I glanced at Lucy, who was making winding roads in her strawberries with the tip of her spoon. “What about you?”
“I don’t know,” she said, blushing.
“That means Juliet, right?” Tessa asked. “Come on, Lucy Goosey, admit it.”
Lucy shrugged. “I was thinking about it, I guess. But I’ll never get it. I really hope you do, Tessa. Although everyone in my class was talking about that English girl.”
“You mean Gemma?” I asked, a little too quickly.
Lucy looked at me. “Yeah. They said she’s been in a bunch of Shakespeare productions at her old school. Plus, she has that accent.”
“So what?” Tessa scoffed. “We’re doing an American version, right?”
“Okay, but it’s more than just the accent. Don’t you think Gemma Braithwaite looks like a Juliet?”
I swallowed some fro-yo. “What does that mean?”
“You know,” Lucy said. “She’s really, really pretty.”
“Anyone can be pretty onstage,” Tessa argued. “That’s what costumes and makeup are for! And I bet Lady Gemma’s a wad of snot.”
“Don’t say that,” I said. “She happens to be incredibly nice.”
Tessa raised her eyebrows. “Yeah? Based on what?”
“I talked to her at the party.”
“Gemma was at Willow’s party?” Lucy frowned. “I didn’t see her there.”
“Right, because she was hiding in the kitchen. She didn’t have a costume, so . . .” I shoved some fro-yo into my mouth.
“Wait,” Tessa said, waving her spoon like a baton. “Stop, Mattie. How do you know she was in the kitchen? Were you in the kitchen?”
“Yeah.”
“So you penetrated the Kaplans’ inner sanctum? And that’s where Willow exposed your identity?”
I nodded.
“Ha! She must have gone ballistic on you. Well, that explains the barf.”
“Shut up, Tessa.” Lucy sighed. “Anyhow, I’m glad to hear Gemma is nice.”
“I’m not,” Tessa said. “Because if she’s talented and experienced and nice and pretty, she’s definitely Juliet.”
“Tessa, you’re all of that stuff, anyway,” I told her. “And besides, who says Juliet has to be pretty?”
Tessa licked some fro-yo off her spoon. “Hey, Mattie, come on, you heard Mr. Torres. He called it a lightning bolt, the way Romeo falls in love with her at the party. It wouldn’t make sense if Juliet’s ugly.”
“Why not?” I argued. “People fall in love for lots of reasons.”
“You mean like because of someone’s eyebrows?” Tessa snorted. “No offense, Mattie, but you really don’t know the first thing about romance, do you?”
* * *
Way back in the fourth grade, our class put on a play called A Voyage to Ellis Island. Most of the other kids played immigrants with names like Giuseppe and Malka and Sean, or else they were Ellis Island workers in plain gray uniforms. There were no tryouts; our teacher, Mrs. Gustafson, just assigned us parts.
The part she gave me was the Narrator. I had a lot of lines to say, but no costume. I could just wear my normal clothes onstage, Mrs. Gustafson said.
“But the Narrator is boring,” I told her. “Can’t I have a real character?” By that I meant one with a foreign name, a head scarf, and a long skirt. I wasn’t a costumey sort of person, even then, but if someone made me a costume, I’d gladly wear it.
Mrs. Gustafson took me aside and spoke quietly. “Oh, but Mattie, the Narrator has many important facts to share with the audience. We need someone who’ll say them all correctly.”
She meant it as a compliment, I guess. But the way I took it was: You’re a good reader, Mattie, and a smart girl. But you aren’t the actor type.
All through middle school, I never auditioned for anything. Because what was the point? If you’re in a play, you want to be in the play, not standing outside it, in your normal clothes, narrating. And if I wasn’t the actor type, okay. There were worse things to call a person. I wasn’t even jealous of Tessa’s theater camp, or of Lucy’s dancing.
But that afternoon, when I got home from Verona’s and locked myself in my bedroom to read Romeo and Juliet, something happened to me. It was kind of a thunderbolt, I guess you could call it. Because as I was reading, I started speaking the words out loud, feeling the characters’ emotions as if they were mine. I didn’t understand every word, and a few times I skimmed when certain characters (specifically, Mercutio and Friar Lawrence) got speechy. But the idea that Romeo and Juliet had a secret love they had to hide from their families, even from their best friends—it was a story so real I could almost see it happening in front of me.
And when I got to the end, when Juliet discovers that Romeo is dead, and kisses his lips, and they’re still warm, I did the whole scene in front of the mirror, including the kiss. My eyes had actual tears, and I thought: It’s like this play is happening TO me. Inside me.
I wanted to own it. I wanted to eat it, as if it were chocolate layer cake.
So I started memorizing little chunks of it, like when Romeo tells Friar Lawrence that
being banished would feel like torture:
Heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her;
But Romeo may not. (III.iii.29–33)
And when Juliet says:
Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
(III.ii.21–25)
I said these speeches in front of my mirror, over and over. And then I wondered: If I got this play and felt these things and passionately loved these gorgeous words, didn’t that mean I should try out for a part?
No, I told myself. I’m a reader, not an actor; acting and reading are completely different things!
But I couldn’t make myself believe it. By then I knew, really knew in my stomach, that I needed to be onstage, in costume, not off to the side, excluded. Not “assisting” Mr. Torres or painting scenery. Not narrating. And not just reading, either. I had to be in this play. A part of it.
And the fact that Gemma Braithwaite might possibly get the role of Juliet?
Maybe we’d even get to be friends, or something.
10
“But to himself so secret and so close.”
—Romeo and Juliet, I.i.152
For the rest of that week, Mr. Torres had our class read the play aloud. By the way he was paying attention, I could tell he was starting to think about casting, even before Friday’s tryouts. So every time he chose me to read, I put a lot of extra emotion into my voice. I hadn’t decided which part I wanted, but I was pretty sure which parts I didn’t. I even made a list in my English notebook:
Romeo: Too important.
Juliet: Ditto. Too much competition.
Tybalt (Juliet’s cousin): Too much action, too much shouting.
Mercutio: Funny, but too speechy (the whole Queen Mab thing).
Juliet’s Nurse : Really funny, but all the girls who don’t get Juliet will want! Second-best girl part.
Lord Capulet: Too mean.
Lady Capulet: Too wimpy/mean. Third-biggest girl part, so competition.
Friar Lawrence: Too speechy. Responsible for the sad ending.
Prince: Boring.
Chorus: Narrator in tights!
Mr. Torres had told us that the fact that there were only four female roles—Juliet, Lady Capulet, the Nurse, and Lady Montague—wasn’t important. Everyone was eligible for every role, male or female—but eliminating all these characters didn’t leave me much. I could be one of Romeo’s parents (Lord Montague had more lines than Lady Montague, but they were both pretty blah), or somebody’s servant, or Paris (the rich guy Juliet’s parents want her to marry instead of Romeo), or Benvolio, Romeo’s cousin and best friend. Of all of these, Benvolio was definitely the best part, but a couple of times I heard Lucy say that she was hoping for Benvolio, and obviously, I didn’t want to compete against Lucy. I also could have been a Party Guest or a Townsperson, which would have allowed me to wear a girl’s costume, at least—but they had no lines, and I definitely wanted a speaking role. Saying Shakespeare’s actual words was the entire point.
But which words? By Thursday night I needed to make a decision, because for tryouts we were supposed to prepare a speech. Mr. Torres warned that just because we recited a certain character’s lines didn’t mean we’d be considered to play that character—but he said he’d “take note of our choice of role,” whatever that meant.
“Elijah wants to play Juliet’s Nurse,” Ajay announced in class on Wednesday.
Elijah blushed. “Only if you’re Juliet, moron.”
“Mr. Torres,” Willow said. “It’s really not fair that girls have to play boys. There should be more girl parts.”
“Take it up with Shakespeare,” Mr. Torres said. “But, you know, in Shakespeare’s day, the female parts were played by boys. It might have been hard for him to cast those parts, which could explain why he wrote relatively few. Anyway, I encourage all of you to consider all roles—although I have to say, I’d like to cast a boy from this class as Romeo.”
LIAM, Tessa mouthed at me from across the room.
I shrugged at her. Liam Harrison looked like someone’s idea of a Romeo, with his yellow-blond hair and his square cleft chin; but whenever he read aloud, splat. It was like all the air went whooshing out of Shakespeare’s lines. Really, considering Tessa’s own overdramatic ways, I didn’t get how she couldn’t hear it.
But Tessa wasn’t the only one casting the play before tryouts. All week long, I kept hearing how Keisha would be an awesome Nurse, and wouldn’t Elijah make the perfect Friar Lawrence? I ignored this kind of talk for the most part—until on Thursday afternoon, in the PE locker room, I heard Lexi Barker telling Nicole Rizzi how “Willow would totally rock Juliet.”
I froze. Had Willow said she wanted to play Juliet? I knew if she had, none of her crew would compete against her—and, of course, her crew included Gemma Braithwaite. The thought that Gemma might not get to play Juliet, might not even show up tomorrow to try out for a part that was so obviously meant for her, gave me a strange prickly feeling in my chest.
I had to find out. But I had no way to talk to Gemma in private. I certainly wasn’t going to call her landline, or show up at her house and ring the buzzer.
Finally, at dismissal on Thursday, I asked Lucy if Tessa still wanted to play Juliet.
“Yeah, I think so,” Lucy said. “Why?”
“What about Gemma?” I asked.
“What about Gemma what?” Lucy cocked her head as if she had water in her ear or something.
I looked away. “I mean, I thought you said people were talking about Gemma playing Juliet. Remember? And Tessa said she’d never get it, because Gemma was so pretty. And talented, and everything. So is Gemma not trying out? Because if Tessa is—”
“I don’t know, Mattie.” Lucy sounded as if she hadn’t been following my logic. Maybe she hadn’t even been listening. “So are you coming to tryouts?”
“Me?” I stared at her. I hadn’t said anything about wanting a part; how had Lucy figured it out?
She smiled. “I mean to cheer us on. I’ve never been this nervous about anything in my life!”
Of course, that was when I should have told her I’d be there—but to try out for a part. For myself. Except I hadn’t even picked my audition speech yet, so I wasn’t ready to answer questions. Also, I knew she’d immediately tell Tessa, and then I’d have to deal with Tessa’s pinball energy, and maybe hear how acting was all about feelings and action, and was I sure I was really the actor type, especially since I didn’t know a thing about romance? And instead of spending the afternoon picking a speech, and then practicing it all evening, I’d be spending all that time texting back and forth with Tessa, and probably also getting a long, nervous phone call from Lucy.
“Did you hear what I said?” Lucy poked me. “Or are you spacing?”
“Sorry,” I told her. “Yes, I’ll definitely be there.”
“Yay! Thanks!”
She gave me a best-friend hug, and I hugged her back.
* * *
Finally, it was time for tryouts. When school was over on Friday, all eighth graders who wanted to audition were supposed to show up in the auditorium with a copy of the play. Lucy and Tessa had told me to meet them by the doors, and we’d all go in together.
Obviously, this was my absolute last chance to tell them I planned to audition. So I did.
I told Tessa first, because she was the first to arrive.
She just blinked at me. “Oh,” she finally said. “Well, Mattie, that’s a surprise.”
“Why is it a surprise?”
“Why? First of all, because you never audition for anything. Ever.”
Then Lucy ran over. “What’s going on?” she
asked immediately. Tessa told her.
“You are?” Lucy asked me. She traded looks with Tessa.
“What’s the big deal?” I managed a small, hollow laugh. “I thought you guys would be happy for me!”
“We are,” Lucy said. “It’s just weird how you never said anything.”
I shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
“Oh, we have to ask?” Tessa said. “We can’t just have a conversation about which parts we want and expect that you’ll, you know, join in? Be honest with us? Share information?”
Her voice was too loud; people were staring at us as they walked into the auditorium.
“Well, I’m sorry,” I said. “When we were having fro-yo on Monday, I hadn’t read the play yet. I only decided to try out once I’d read it that afternoon.”
“You could have told us then,” Lucy said softly. “Or the whole rest of this week. Or yesterday, when we were talking about it, Mattie.”
Mrs. Dimona walked by, carrying a stack of pages. “Girls, please sit. We’re starting in five minutes.”
“We’d better go,” Lucy said, not moving.
I looked at my friends, who were both frowning. Lucy was twisting her hair, watching me with hurt eyes. All of a sudden, I understood what they were both feeling, and I felt ashamed of myself.
“Listen, guys,” I started. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you. I just needed a little time to—”
“Think?” Tessa finished.
“Decide. On which speech.”
“And inform us afterward. Like you did with that Darth Vader costume.”
“What? Tessa, that was a completely different . . .”
But then Willow and her entourage showed up, so I stopped talking, and the three of us took our seats inside the auditorium.
11
“O, he’s a lovely gentleman!
Romeo’s a dishclout to him.”
—Romeo and Juliet, III.v.220–221
Two hours later, tryouts were over.
Most of it went by in a blur. About thirty girls showed up to recite “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”—which starts to sound like Bugs Bunny if you hear it too often. Tessa did Juliet’s reaction when the Nurse tells her that Romeo killed Tybalt (“O serpent heart, hid with a flow’ring face!”) probably because it sounded like insults. Lucy read a speech by Benvolio, Elijah read Friar Lawrence, Ajay read Lord Capulet, and Willow read Tybalt. They all did fine, I thought, and Keisha was hilarious as the Nurse.
