‘It seats five hundred people,’ Mr Nichols roared. ‘How are they going to hear you IF YOU WHISPER?’
Poor James went bright red and did his next scene even quieter.
By Wednesday’s dress rehearsal Mr Nichols had started to lose his voice from all the shouting and was staggering around backstage clutching his throat and whispering last-minute directions at anyone who would stand still long enough to listen to them.
I saw him draw Flynn and Emmi to one side and my heart sank. I knew he must be telling them it was time to put some real kisses in place.
I asked Emmi, very casually, afterwards what Mr Nichols had said.
‘Don’t use tongues,’ she said solemnly.
I stared at her. ‘What?’
She grinned. ‘I’m kidding. He said we should just see the kisses as part of the lines – and we should ignore anyone who laughs.’
During the dress rehearsal, I stood in the wings, anxiously watching the scene in which Romeo and Juliet meet. Despite what Flynn said I knew he was a little nervous. It was making him act better. He was speaking with real feeling.
As Emmi fluttered out, it struck me how well suited they were. Attractive. Charismatic. Massively up for sex. I’d had those thoughts before, of course, but right now it was particularly hard to see them, all dressed up in their elegant costumes, circling round each other.
My mind went back to that first rehearsal, when Flynn and I had answered all Mr Nichols’ questions about what Romeo and Juliet’s lines meant. These were our lines, I thought jealously.
I stood, hidden by the curtains, waiting for the kiss. I was so intent on the scene in front of me I didn’t notice the other people gathering until two of the girls with non-speaking parts from the year below me at school started whispering behind me.
‘Will they kiss each other for real?’ one of them hissed.
‘Course,’ the other replied. ‘Flynn will, anyway. Look at him – he so fancies her.’
‘Sssh.’ The first girl glanced sideways at me and sniggered.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see both girls, hands over their mouths, red-faced, suppressing more giggles as they tried not to look at me.
My whole being burned with humiliation. On stage, Flynn was tracing his fingers down Emmi’s face. It was a simple gesture – soft and tender – and one he’d often made with me. His eyes were so full of love, so intense. I could hardly believe he was acting. My guts seemed to hollow out as he leaned forwards and brushed his lips against hers.
This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. Emmi was supposed to be ill so that I could go on in her place and he would be my Romeo and I would be his Juliet.
I remembered how Emmi had clung to him in our minicab after the fight in the pub alleyway. Jealousy rose inside me like a dark, thick poison, choking me.
I watched, helplessly, as they drew apart, still gazing into each other’s eyes.
The next line was my own cue.
I walked onto the stage. ‘Madam, your mother craves a word with you.’ My voice sounded hollow to my ears.
‘What is her mother?’ Flynn spoke his line without taking his eyes off Emmi.
I gave the Nurse’s answer mechanically, watching the way Emmi and Flynn held each other in their gaze.
A moment later and everyone apart from Emmi and I had left the stage.
As Emmi gave her next few lines, asking about Romeo – wanting to know his name and if he was married – she turned to me at last. Her face was flushed, her voice risen with excitement.
A few moments later and we were done. As I followed Emmi to the edge of the stage, I searched for Flynn, but all I could see was the scenery for the balcony scene which was coming up in a moment. The stage manager, Maz, had created a balcony out of some painted cardboard and a set of steps on wheels. Right now he was trying to push his construction onto the stage. Liam, the boy who ran the props cupboard and was, supposedly, Maz’s assistant, was preventing him.
‘We don’t need the balcony yet,’ Liam hissed, pushing the scenery back into the wings so that it blocked the route off the stage.
Emmi and I stopped, unable to get any further.
‘Yes we do,’ Maz insisted. ‘It should be on stage now.’
Beyond the painted cardboard I could see Flynn backstage, checking something in his script, clearly oblivious to the argument over the scenery.
Then, out of nowhere, Alex marched over and planted himself in front of Flynn. He said something I couldn’t hear, but from the expression on his face he wasn’t happy. I caught my breath as Flynn looked up slowly.
‘Oh God,’ Emmi murmured beside me.
‘Act 2 scenery, come on!’ Mr Nichols shouted from the hall.
‘See?’ Maz said triumphantly.
‘We have to get past,’ I insisted.
‘Fine.’ Liam released the scenery and Maz started manoeuvring it carefully round.
‘Hurry up,’ I hissed, my eyes on Flynn. He was trying to step past Alex, but Alex moved sideways, blocking Flynn’s path. The two boys glared at each other. My pulse quickened. I knew that thundery look on Flynn’s face. He was on the verge of exploding.
With a thud, the balcony scenery was out of our way. As Maz trundled it onto the stage, I scuttled past, only focused on getting to Flynn. There was a small crowd around him and Alex now. I was dimly aware of Emmi, beside me. Alex leaned closer to Flynn, speaking into his ear.
He looked furious.
I scurried towards them, pushing past people, determined to reach them before this went any further.
Too late. Flynn curled his lip and shoved out with both fists. They rammed into Alex’s chest. Alex went flying into the crowd behind him. Flynn followed, fist clenched, arm raised, ready to punch.
‘Hey!’ Emmi’s voice rose above the others – all clamouring indignantly.
‘Quiet backstage!’ Mr Nicols roared. ‘And where is Chorus? Come on, people! This is the dress run! We have to keep going!’
I elbowed my way through the throng. ‘Flynn!’
He looked up at the sound of my voice, then turned back to Alex, who was scrambling upright, his own fists now curled into tight balls.
Flynn swung back his arm, making a fist, ready to punch. In a second the consequences of him hitting Alex in school flashed before my eyes: he’d be excluded . . . from the play . . . from school . . .
And he’d be ostracised even more than he was already. No one would understand. Alex was far more popular than Flynn.
I caught his wrist, just as Emmi reached Alex. I could dimly see her whispering rapidly in Alex’s ear, but my focus was on Flynn. He stopped for a second, shocked, as I held his arm. Then he shook himself free.
With a final scornful glance at Alex, now virtually hidden from view by Emmi and a bunch of other people who’d swarmed between the two boys, Flynn turned and stormed off .
I scurried after him as the boy playing Chorus darted past me, all breathless, heading for the stage.
‘Where are you going?’ I said as Flynn burst through the door behind the stage and out of the hall. ‘You’re on again in a minute.’
He ignored me. I followed him, blinking in the sudden glare of the electric lights of the main school. The door slammed noisily behind us.
‘Flynn?’ I said. ‘What just happened with Alex?’ My pulse raced. Why was Alex so angry? What had Flynn done to upset him – was it something to do with Emmi?
Flynn shook his head and paced off along the school corridor. I stood for a second, frozen to the spot. Then I raced after him, the blood thundering in my ears.
‘Flynn?’ I hissed. ‘Why won’t you speak to me?’
Flynn stopped in mid-stride. He spun round, towering over me. Even in the heat of that moment I had time to register just how gorgeous he looked in his Romeo suit.
‘I’m not in the mood for another fight,’ he spat. ‘This isn’t about you, River . . . this is between me and Alex . . .’
A couple of boys I didn�
��t recognise scuttled past us, open-mouthed. I forced myself to lower my voice.
‘What did Alex say to you?’
‘He said he didn’t like me kissing Emmi in the play.’ Flynn shook his head. ‘Frigging prat.’
I stared at him. ‘Why does that make him a prat? Of course he didn’t like it.’
‘You’re taking his side?’ Flynn’s eyes widened with fury.
‘No.’ I shook my head vehemently. ‘I’m just saying I understand. I didn’t like you and her kissing either. There’s no reason to get so angry about it.’
Flynn made a growling noise somewhere deep in his throat. His furious expression intensified. He slammed his hand against the wall. I jumped, my pulse racing.
‘You’re being stupid,’ Flynn snarled. ‘It’s just a play.’
I stood for a moment, my heart pounding. I was frightened, I realised. Not that he would hit me, but that I couldn’t be sure what he was going to do or say next.
‘I’m not being stupid,’ I said, my voice sharp as ice. ‘In fact, I’ve just realised something.’
‘And what’s that?’ Flynn growled.
‘You’re just like you describe your dad,’ I said, the insight deepening as I spoke it. ‘I mean, maybe you wouldn’t actually hit me like he hit your mum, but you get out of control just like him . . . and . . . and you scare people.’
Flynn stared at me, his eyes hard and angry.
‘Scare people?’ he said.
‘Scare me,’ I admitted. ‘Because you fly off the handle at the least little thing. Because you’re so angry all the time.’
Flynn shook his head. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
There was a long pause, then the cloud lifted from his face. He pulled me towards him with a smile. ‘Hey, after the dress run can we get out of here . . . go somewhere alone?’
I stared at him. How could he change just like that – from rage to seduction – in seconds.
Flynn raised his eyebrows. It was as if I hadn’t challenged him. As if he hadn’t been listening to me at all.
My heart sank as it hit me for the first time: maybe Flynn would never let me in and make me feel loved.
Maybe I was as close to him now as I was ever going to get.
22
I opened my mouth to try and explain what I was feeling. But before I could say anything one of the boys assisting the stage manager appeared. He cleared his throat nervously.
‘Er, Flynn?’ he stammered. ‘Mr Nichols is looking for you . . . you were supposed to be on stage for Act 2 five minutes ago . . . er, we’re meant to keep going . . . er, it’s the dress rehearsal.’
‘I know what it is,’ Flynn snapped.
He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then pushed past the boy and headed back to the hall. I waited a second, a jumble of feelings crowding my head. Then I crept back to the hall myself. I could hear Flynn in the distance, already on stage, performing.
‘Can I go forward when my heart is here?’ He sounded eager and excited – not a trace of the huge emotions of the moment just past in his voice.
I leaned against the props cupboard as Flynn disappeared across the stage. He’d be back in view in a minute, for the balcony scene in which Romeo and Juliet declare their love for each other.
I sank to the ground and put my head in my hands.
‘River?’
I looked up. Grace was sidling up to me.
‘Is it hard, seeing him with someone else?’ she whispered sympathetically.
I turned away, trying to hide the fact that my eyes were filling with tears.
Grace patted my arm. ‘Have you got a moment before you’re on again?’ she said. ‘There’s something I want to tell you. In private.’
I hesitated. I had to be back soon, as Nurse, to call Juliet from the side of the stage. On the other hand, I didn’t think I could bear to watch the very next, highly romantic, exchange between Flynn and Emmi.
On an impulse, I jumped up and asked Daisy Walker to say my lines for me.
‘It’s just a couple of words from off-stage, Daisy,’ I pleaded. ‘No one will notice and I really need to talk to Grace about something.’
Daisy gave me a searching look, but agreed without asking any questions.
Relieved, I followed Grace out of the hall. As we walked along the corridor, it struck me that I was going to have to watch Emmi and Flynn together many times over the next few nights. There would be at least five more kisses tonight and then two performances full of them. I couldn’t bear it.
‘What is it?’ I asked Grace, trying not to think about the kisses.
‘Not here.’ Grace led me down to the girls’ dressing room – a tiny classroom near the assembly hall. The windows had been covered with black felt to give us privacy. Although it was still light outside, the room itself was shadowy and still.
Grace shifted a box containing Emmi’s spare make-up off a chair and sat me down. She took the chair opposite, then leaned forward excitedly.
I stared at her, my own worries receding momentarily as I noticed her flushed cheeks and eager eyes.
‘What’s up, Grace?’ I said.
‘James and I did it last night,’ she said.
I looked at her. Her pale face was glowing. God. She looked . . . well . . . radiant.
‘You mean for the first time?’ I said awkwardly, feeling I should know. I’d been so preoccupied with Flynn for the past few weeks that I hadn’t been aware of anything Grace was doing.
Grace nodded. ‘The first time with anyone.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘How was it?’
‘Amazing,’ Grace breathed. Then she screwed up her face. ‘Messy, though.’
I grinned at her. ‘So are you in love?’
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, I don’t know. But he’s sweet. And kind. And gentle. Oh Riv, last night. I can’t tell you. He was just so . . . so . . .’
‘Grateful?’ I suggested.
‘No.’ Grace drew back, looking scandalised. ‘Well, yes. But it was more than that. He was so . . . so loving. He made me feel so special. Not in some bigshot I’d-die-for-you way. But just small things, like how he kept asking if I was okay, even when we were . . . you know, right in the middle of it . . . and how he made me feel we could wait if I wanted and I could trust him completely – you know, that he’d never look at anyone else and . . .’
I bit my lip, trying to push down the tears that were welling up. Why wasn’t Flynn like that? He was all about the bigshot I’d-die-for-you gestures. But I was beginning to see that a lot of his passion came from anger. Where were the small kindnesses? Why wasn’t he saying that he’d wait for sex until I was ready? Why didn’t I trust him with Emmi? Why hadn’t he told me he loved me?
‘River, what is it?’ Grace was bending forward, her blonde hair swishing against my mud-brown.
‘Nothing,’ I said, biting harder on my lip, trying not to cry. ‘Listen, I’m really pleased about you and James. He’s a sweet guy.’
Grace made a small face. ‘He is, but . . .’ She hesitated. ‘What about Flynn? I mean, he’s not sweet maybe, but he’s really into you too, isn’t he?’
A tear trickled down my face. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
‘I love him so much, Grace,’ I sobbed. ‘I love him so much.’
Grace’s expression softened. ‘But doesn’t he love you?’ she frowned. ‘I thought you two were okay.’
I told her. Not about Flynn’s family and his past – but how he’d got angry earlier and how, even though he’d opened up to me recently, he seemed to think I should give him sex in return. It was funny. As I said the words, I realised they were true. He did see it as some kind of bargain, I was sure. That was why he’d started mentioning sex almost as soon as he’d told me about his dad.
Grace frowned. ‘But I’m sure he’s crazy about you, Riv. Anyone can see it. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to say he loves you.’
I shook my head. Flynn always knew what to say. He was good with words.<
br />
‘Come on, Riv,’ Grace insisted. ‘James says Flynn’s never been like this about anyone.’
‘Does he?’ I looked up. ‘What’s Flynn said to him?’
Grace coloured a little. ‘Well, it’s not so much that Flynn’s said anything . . .’
‘You see?’ I started sobbing again. ‘He hasn’t said he loves me. Not to me. Not to anyone. Because he doesn’t. He just wants sex. I bet he’d do it with anyone.’ I gripped Grace’s arm. ‘Swear you’ll tell me the truth, if I ask you something?’
‘What?’ Grace’s eyes widened.
‘Swear?’
‘Okay.’ She shrugged. ‘I swear. What d’you . . .?’
‘Does Emmi fancy him?’ I blurted out.
Grace’s snubby nose wrinkled with distaste. ‘River. She’d never . . .’
‘Yeah. But does she fancy him?’ I said. ‘Cos if she does, he’ll know when they kiss on stage. I know he will. And . . . God . . . if he wants her . . .’ My breath was coming in great heavy gasps now. ‘Oh God, if he wants her . . .’
‘Hey, River. Riv . . .’ Grace pulled me into a hug. ‘It’s not worth all this, babe. No guy is.’
I slid onto the floor, weeping my guts out. ‘He is, Grace. Oh God, I love him so much. So much.’
I was practically hysterical. It was like all the tension of the last two months was flooding out of me – all the exhausting attempts not to mention the things that made Flynn angry and all the worry about how he felt and what he wanted.
Then the door opened and Emmi walked in.
She took one look at me in a heap on the floor and staggered dramatically back against the door.
‘Ohmigod, he’s dumped you.’
‘Shut up, Emmi,’ Grace said, with surprising firmness.
She got up and stalked over to Emmi. I could hear them whispering together. I was still crying on the floor. I didn’t even know why I was crying any more. Just that I’d wanted to love someone and be loved back. I’d wanted that so much. And I’d thought it was happening with Flynn. I really did. And now it was like all my feelings were out there, raw, and I was still totally alone.
Falling Fast Page 14
