“Love you too,” I reply without looking back.
“Ready?” Morgan asks.
“Let’s go, Mo,” I say, falling back on one of our favorite inside jokes from middle school.
“Sure thing, Row.”
Yes, we’re total nerds, but the stupid banter helps dispel some of the tension I feel.
The parking lot is practically empty when we arrive. Even the teachers’ lot isn’t full yet. A smattering of late model cars pepper the parking lot. A few students loiter about, enjoying their final moments of freedom before the bell rings. Morgan and I make a beeline for the auditorium, our sole focus trained on the list we hope will already be taped to the door.
A couple of girls are already standing in front of the door, peering intently ahead, their fingers running down a list of names. Move, I want to scream. They shift to the side, smiles on their faces. They must be on the callback list. Good for them. What about me? Am I on there?
There I am! Halfway down the list, I see my name. Eddie’s name is at the bottom. I scan the list again and find Morgan’s name too. In relief and jubilation, we turn to each other, hugging and letting out a gentle squee of happiness.
“Excuse me.” A deep voice breaks into our celebration. Morgan and I pull apart. Eddie is standing there. I watch while he locates his name. His expression doesn’t change. He turns to us and shrugs. He has no one to celebrate with, at least not right now. Not like me and Morgan who always have each other.
“Congratulations,” I manage to say as my face heats from the exertion of speaking to him.
“You too,” he replies. Does he know I’m on the list because he remembers my name from yesterday? Or does he just assume that since I’m practically dancing in front of the auditorium doors that I must have made the cut? Either way, it doesn’t matter. It’s our first real conversation, one I’ll review over and over again when I lie down tonight to go to sleep.
“See you later,” he says, turning away and walking down the hallway.
“He seems thrilled.” Morgan’s voice is sarcastic.
“Ecstatic,” I reply, hoping Morgan doesn’t notice how frazzled I am from my brief interaction with Eddie. Is my face red? It has to be. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Can she hear my heart beating? It’s pounding as if I’ve just run the length of the football field.
I won’t be able to concentrate for the rest of the day; that’s for sure. I usually worry before an audition—it’s just the way I’m wired. I normally chill out once I begin to read my lines, but the idea of performing in front of Eddie—or with him—is utterly terrifying. Look what happened yesterday. I was so freaked out, I forgot my monologue. What if that happens again? What if it happens during the actual play in front of the entire school and our assembled friends and family members?
I don’t really know Eddie, but he’s messing me up. I need to get some control over myself, or I’ll blow the audition. But with Eddie around, I have no control over my emotions at all. I guess I might have to kiss the part of Juliet goodbye.
***
Morgan and I enter the auditorium together. A sick feeling settled in my stomach hours ago and it had been impossible for me to eat anything at lunch. Now I’m shaky from the combination of hunger and anxiety. My knees are rubbery as I follow Morgan to a group of girls we know from show choir. Hugs of solidarity are exchanged as well as good wishes for our upcoming auditions.
“You were amazing yesterday,” Mia says. “I hope you get the part.”
In auditions at our school, the actor or actress is supposed to read for the part they’re trying out for. Of course, that doesn’t mean someone won’t get cast for a different part, but when I read for the part of Juliet, that let Mr. Fredericks know I was interested in that role. Morgan read for Juliet too, but Mia read for the Nurse. Short, round, and soft, Mia is maternal-looking and physically suited for the role she auditioned for. It makes me sad she underestimates her own talent and pigeonholes herself. She’s a very good actress—maybe not as good as Morgan, but good—and definitely has a chance at Juliet. Maybe Mr. Fredericks will look past her attempt to impose limitations on herself and will cast her accordingly. But, of course, if he’s fair, the role of Juliet will probably go to Morgan who is well-deserving of it.
“I hope you get a good part too,” I tell Mia. “Your audition was really, really good.”
I chat with my group of friends and our circle gradually expands. All the while, I’m searching for Eddie. He enters the auditorium just moments before Mr. Fredericks shuts the doors and tells everyone to have a seat.
Of the approximately fifty people who showed up yesterday for auditions, around forty tried out for a speaking part. Of those, twenty were on the callback list. Those who weren’t called back will either be assigned a very small speaking part, or no speaking part at all. Knowing Mr. Fredericks, he’ll try to find a way for everyone to speak at least one line, even if that means tweaking Shakespeare’s masterpiece just a little.
Mr. Fredericks calls me, Morgan, Carmella, Beth, and Dani up to the table at the foot of the stage. He gives us identical sheets of paper and tells us to read through silently. I glance down at the paper as I walk back to my seat. It’s the monologue I’d worked so hard on, the one I’d spaced out on yesterday. Maybe this will give me an advantage. Eddie watches me as I move down the row toward my seat and I almost trip. His presence is definitely a disadvantage.
Still, I’m thrilled that I’m being considered for the part of Juliet. It’s an honor just to read for the part whether I get it or not. If I manage to have a decent audition, there’s a possibility I could be Morgan’s understudy, which would be incredible.
Mr. Fredericks continues to call people up in groups of anywhere from two to five. Eddie is in the same group with Blake, so it’s safe to assume he’s in the running for Romeo. What if he gets the part? Will I burn with jealousy watching him play opposite Morgan? How will I survive watching them kiss? It’s acting, I remind myself. Famous actors and actresses watch their partners do more than kiss other people on the big screen. It’s part of being a professional. Besides, Eddie isn’t mine so he can kiss anyone he wants to. I shouldn’t care—I don’t.
All around the auditorium, people are hurriedly scanning their monologues. The room is silent except for a few whispers. After about five minutes, Mr. Fredericks calls the first group—ours. Morgan is the first to read. Her voice is assured, her monologue flawless. After hours of listening to me practice my originally chosen scene, she must have picked up on enough to lend familiarity to the script, because there were times she was able to look away from her paper long enough to make eye contact with the judges.
Beth is next. She isn’t nearly as comfortable as Morgan and trips over her words several times. When Beth finishes, I hold my breath, praying I’ll be last. I’m not ready. Not when I can feel Eddie’s eyes on me.
“Rowan?” Mr. Fredericks directs his attention to me and I know my prayers for a temporary reprieve have been denied.
I step forward and try to pull my face into a confident smile. My lips feel stretched and thin, and I realize what was intended to be a smile probably looks like a nervous grimace. I begin to read:
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
The words are flowing forth as all the hard work and practice from the past several weeks kicks in. I’m hardly looking at my monologue and this bolsters my confidence. I’m speaking directly to the panel of judges, but am now feeling comfortable enough to look around the theatre. My gaze briefly lands on Eddie.
I’m breathless as I finish. A little embarrassed too because I put so much of myself into the reading. I hope it wasn’t over the top. I can’t muster the courage to look at Eddie, so I focus on the judges. They’re scribbling in their notebooks.
“Very, very nice,” Mr. Fredericks says. “Well done, Rowan. Carmella, are you ready?”
Carmella’s reading is lacklu
ster, as if she’s already given up. Dani’s audition isn’t much better. I’m not sure what Mr. Fredericks has planned next, but as it stands right now, I suspect I have a very good chance of being cast as Morgan’s understudy.
Once everyone has had a chance to read a monologue, the judges call a twenty minute break to confer. Some students leave the auditorium, probably to grab a soda or snack from the vending machines in the cafeteria, or to make a pit stop at the restrooms. Morgan and I stay. For a few seconds, we strain our ears, hoping to hear what the judges are saying, but other students are too noisy, so we give up on our attempted eavesdropping.
“You were really good,” Morgan gushes, clutching my hand.
“Thanks. So were you.”
She lowers her voice. “What did you think about Beth, Dani, and Carmella?”
“They were good,” I answer carefully. After all, you never know who might be listening. “Not as good as you,” I whisper, glancing around nervously. No one is paying us any attention. No one except Eddie. His eyes are riveted to where Morgan and I are sitting. He doesn’t glance away when my gaze collides with his.
“What did you think about Eddie?” Morgan asks.
I yank my eyes away from him, suddenly terrified Morgan and everyone else in the auditorium can tell how enamored I am by him. Morgan’s waiting for my response and I realize she’s probably just asking for my opinion on his audition.
“He was amazing,” I reply honestly. “But so was Blake. As always.”
“Mia definitely nailed her performance. She’ll get the Nurse for sure.”
“I agree. Wonder what they’ll have us do next?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Maybe read for different parts. Or maybe do a few group or couples readings.”
Our questions are answered as soon as Mr. Fredericks calls everyone to order. There are about a half dozen students who read for smaller, uncontested parts. They did a passable job, so Mr. Fredericks tells them he doesn’t need to see anything else from them this afternoon. He tells them they can leave if they’d like, but no one does. Likely, they’ll get the parts they auditioned for, but anything is possible.
“Okay, we’re going to start calling people up in groups of two or three. Just because I ask you to read for a certain part doesn’t mean that’s the part you’re going to get. I’m trying to get an idea of which parts you’re suited for.” He looks down at his clipboard. “Morgan Livingston and Eddie Velasquez.”
I can sense Morgan rising and walking away, but I can’t see or hear her. I have tunnel vision and there’s a strange rushing in my head like the whooshing sound you hear when you press a conch shell against your ear. Jealousy burns through my torso and my limbs are heavy. Eddie’s voice shatters the barrier of sensory detachment and I focus on his words. Morgan’s voice counters his. They read their lines as if they’ve performed opposite each other in a million plays, as if they were meant to be Romeo and Juliet.
When Morgan and Eddie leave the stage, my name is called and hope rises. I’m reading with Blake who certainly has a shot at the part of Romeo. Does this mean I’m still being considered for the part of Juliet? Or am I just a stand in?
I’m on the stage now, and Mr. Fredericks hands me a sheet of paper. It’s the same script Morgan and Eddie just read, so Blake and I will have to find some way to stand out, to make it just a little better than the previous reading. I hate competition, the feeling that I have to one-up my best friend in order to make my mark. But I don’t just owe it to myself—I owe it to Blake to do my best, to give him a chance to display his best work. He’s looking at me dubiously, as if he doesn’t trust me to outshine Morgan. I don’t blame him for his lack of faith. I’m frozen in one spot. Everyone is watching. I can feel their eyes on me—Eddie’s eyes on me.
It’s up to me to read the first line. I take a breath and speak. It’s not my best performance, but not my worst either. It’s passable, but passable won’t get me the part.
Back in my seat, I’m surprised Mr. Fredericks doesn’t call anyone else to read for the part. After twenty minutes and a few more readings, Mr. Fredericks calls for a fifteen minute break. I leave Morgan chatting with our friends while I escape to the restroom. I splash cold water on my face and dry off with a paper towel. Glancing in the mirror, I notice my face is flushed. I gently tap my cheeks with my palms, hoping the redness will disappear, but it doesn’t.
I leave the restroom and almost crash head first into Eddie as he makes his way out of the men’s room. My face is heating, surely turning an even deeper shade of crimson. Faltering for a moment, I almost trip over my own feet in my haste to avoid making physical contact with him.
“You were good,” he says.
“Thanks, but I was so nervous. I really don’t think I did very well.”
“I think you were great,” he says, catching my nervous gaze. I can’t look away.
“So were you,” I say.
“Thanks, Rowan.”
A shiver shoots through me when he says my name. I’m saved from trying to think of something else to say to him when the auditorium door opens and two girls bustle through. They ogle at me and Eddie for just a moment before disappearing into the restroom.
“Should we go back inside?” he asks, reaching out to open the door for me.
“Sure.”
He leans over and speaks softly in my ear. “Break a leg, Rowan.” I almost pass out from the sensual thrill of him being so close to me.
“You too,” I whisper.
He gestures for me to walk in front of him. Considering the fact that he’s the school pariah and fallen sports hero, Eddie is quite the gentleman. I want to believe that Eddie got a bad rap, that the crimes he committed weren’t as bad as people make them out to be. But maybe that’s wishful thinking based on my ridiculous, overblown crush. After all, I don’t really know the whole story. Of course, the students who incessantly gossip about Eddie probably don’t know the whole story either.
Just as I return to where Morgan is standing with a group of friends, Mr. Fredericks calls out, “Okay, listen up everyone.” He boosts himself up on the stage, so he’s sitting on the edge with his legs dangling over the side.
The noise level in the auditorium drops down to zero.
“Thanks for being patient, folks. We’ve got some talented people here today, and you guys are blowing me away with what I’ve seen so far. This is probably the stiffest competition I’ve ever seen in a senior play. It’s really hard to pick and choose. So many of you would be outstanding in several different roles. We’re going to do another round of readings, and hopefully after that, we’ll be able to start casting.” He glances at his fellow judges and they nod in agreement.
Mia and Katie are summoned first. Mia’s definitely got the part of the Nurse. I can feel it. She’s natural on stage and has fun with the part. I watch her carefully, trying to take mental notes so I can improve my own performance.
“Morgan and Blake?” Mr. Fredericks calls as soon as Mia and Katie leave the stage.
Their performance is wonderful. Blake and Morgan have worked together in numerous plays and their comfort level with each other is apparent. It’s obvious Mr. Fredericks has decided to pair them up for the parts of Romeo and Juliet. I’m happy for Morgan, but disappointed for Eddie. I thought he really had a chance. Part of me is glad I won’t have to watch Morgan and Eddie kiss rehearsal after rehearsal, but I know that’s petty of me.
“Great job,” I whisper as Morgan sits down next to me. She squeezes my hand.
More students are called to the stage in groups. Morgan is called back up to read a few, short lines as Juliet, while Blake is called to read for Mercutio. I wonder what part Mr. Fredericks will give me and silently pray to be cast as Morgan’s understudy. I think I have a very good chance.
I’m anxious to leave now, ready to go home and devote some much-needed time to study. I’ve let my work slide the past few days because I’ve been so obsessed with the play—and Eddie. I’m going to
have to find a better way to balance school and acting next semester. Being an understudy is going to take up a huge amount of time. I’ll have to be at all the rehearsals…
“Row,” Morgan hisses, nudging me with her elbow.
I’m disoriented for a moment. I was so wrapped up in my internal plans, I’d zoned out the world around me.
“Go,” she whispers.
“What?”
“Mr. Fredericks called you up there. Didn’t you hear him?”
“Oh, crap. Sorry.” I stand up, wondering what part I’m being summoned to read.
Eddie is already standing in front of the stage, accepting a sheet of paper from Mr. Fredericks’ outstretched hand.
“Here you go, Rowan,” Mr. Fredericks says as I approach.
I barely glance at the paper as I join Eddie on stage. We make eye contact and he winks, nearly causing me to pass out. Averting my eyes, I look down at the paper and realize for the first time that I’m reading for Juliet. And Eddie is Romeo. If we’re both understudies and something happens to both Morgan and Blake…Okay, I need to get a grip. I have to get through this reading, otherwise I won’t be cast as anything, much less an understudy.
Eddie speaks his first line and I’m frozen in terror. He stares at me for a moment. It’s my turn:
What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?
I know this scene fairly well; after all, it’s probably one of the most famous scenes in the play.
Eddie and I go back and forth. We’ve never read together, so our exchange doesn’t have the easy flow Blake and Morgan had, but we’re holding our own. Our awkwardness probably parallels how Romeo and Juliet would have interacted had they been real instead of figments of Shakespeare’s imagination.
I imagine what it’s like to be Juliet—a young girl with her first crush. A girl who convinces herself she’s madly in love with a boy her family detests. He’s the bad boy, the forbidden love. It isn’t hard to imagine myself as Juliet, or to see Eddie as Romeo. My silly crush lends a love-struck air to my performance. My infatuation with Eddie is the real deal, but hopefully Mr. Fredericks and the judges will see it as evidence of my acting ability.
Sweet Sorrow Page 3
