Romeo & What's Her Name Page 2

  His eyes glanced over the choices listed on the paper. “I think I’ll try out for one of the scenes and see what happens.”

  “Cool,” I said. “Which one?”

  “Romeo and Juliet.”

  Romeo and Juliet?! Was he serious? That was supposed to be the most romantic play ever. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass. I could be his Juliet. I quickly weighed the pros and the cons in my head. The pros were awesome. They were, basically, Wes. But the cons were, well, too huge to ignore. Still …

  Don’t do it, Emily. Don’t do it, Emily. Don’t do it, Emily. But there was no stopping me. “Nice. That’s what I was planning on trying for, too.” And just like that, with a few simple words, I found myself in way over my head.

  3

  “Don’t forget to breathe when you get up on stage,” Kayla said as we stood outside the auditorium. “I’ll be there the whole time. You got this.”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t so sure. Was I seriously trying out for Romeo and Juliet?

  A few classmates waved and wished me luck as they passed us and went inside. I managed to squeak out a “you too,” but the longer I stood there, the more nervous I got.

  Why did it have to be an open audition? I didn’t need everyone watching me. I mean, I knew that would happen if I got the part, but that would be after tons of rehearsals. Mrs. Heller gave us only a week to prepare for the audition. “I don’t know if I can do this, Kayla.”

  “Yes, you can. You’ve been practicing. You sound good. And Jill signed up to direct the Romeo and Juliet scene. How much more perfect can it get? She can cast you and Wes. What better way to fall in love than portraying one of the most romantic couples of all time?”

  “What if I’m awful?”

  “You’re not. I heard you practice. And besides, Jill is an amazing director. You know how important this is to her. She’ll make you look good. She’ll work you to the bone until you are the best Juliet that ever lived.”

  That was true. I could count on Jill. She’d guarantee I was ready. “You’re right, I’m just having second-grade flashbacks.”

  “Well, in that performance, you wore a horse costume. I’d have nightmares, too. This time you will be wearing an ah-mazing gown designed by yours truly. Trust me, you will want this dress on your body.”

  Kayla was a superskilled designer. Most of what she wore, she made herself, and she always looked incredible. I knew whatever she came up with for the scene would be breathtaking. “Okay, you win. Let’s do this.”

  She gave a little clap and swung open the auditorium door for us. A lot more people were there than I anticipated. All the directors from all the scenes were already seated. They would be judging us. But a big chunk of my classmates were in the room, too. I had signed up for the first slot, thinking everyone would get there later. I guess everyone wanted to size up the competition.

  “Don’t let all the people get to you. Your only problem is going to be that all the directors are going to want you,” Kayla said.

  She was a good friend. One who was totally stretching the truth, but I appreciated it just the same. “I highly doubt that.”

  “Seriously, though, what happens if someone else wants to cast you?”

  I had taken precautions. On the audition slip, we got to fill out our top three choices and check off if we’d accept any role. I didn’t. “I said I’d only take Juliet.” There was no way I was going on stage if Wes wasn’t there.

  “And what if Wes doesn’t get Romeo?”

  I wasn’t worried about that. “It’s the part he wants, and look at him, is there anyone in this school who is more leading-man material?”

  “You have a point there,” she said.

  We took a seat near the back, and I kept going over my script. All the aspiring Juliets were told to do a short piece from act 2, scene 5, where Juliet’s waiting for her nurse to come back. She had sent her to meet Romeo with a message. It wasn’t the worst piece of Shakespeare I had seen, but it still wasn’t great. I really hated this stuff, but it was worth pushing that aside. This was for love.

  As I went over the lines for the umpteenth time, an uberperky laugh filled the room. “I’m so glad you decided to do this with me.”

  It was Amanda, and she was walking down the aisle with my crush.

  “We’re going to make the perfect Romeo and Juliet, don’t you think?” she asked.

  WHAT? Was that why Wes was trying out for Romeo? So he could star opposite … her?!! Amanda had talked to him before Mrs. Heller made the announcement to our class. She would have already known about the scene night because she had English earlier. Here I was hoping I could be Wes’s Juliet, when the whole time he was doing this for Amanda? I didn’t know what to think or what to do.

  My thoughts must have gotten away from me, because the next thing I knew Kayla was nudging me. “They’re calling your name.”

  Part of me didn’t want to try out anymore, but I knew that wasn’t the answer. Amanda hadn’t won yet, and I couldn’t let her. This was my chance for Wes to see me in a new light: as his love interest. I needed this part, so regardless of how I felt, I had to act confident. That was half the battle. So I stood up, and with my head held high, I practically strutted to the stage. This role was mine for the taking, and I wasn’t about to blow it.

  4

  “Start whenever you’re ready,” Jill called out. All the directors were sitting in the fourth row. As I stood on stage, I scanned the room. Seeing people staring back at me was more than a little daunting.

  My stomach turned, and I flashed back to the summer. My friends somehow persuaded me to ride the second-tallest roller coaster in the world. I was petrified. The drop was 420 feet, and I screamed all the way down. Afterward, I threw up. Twice. And yet, right now, looking out at all the eyes on me, that roller coaster seemed like a carousel.

  “Ticktock,” Ryan Watkins, who was directing one of the other scenes, said while tapping his wrist. “When she said, ‘whenever you’re ready,’ she didn’t really mean whenever. She meant go.”

  I knew I had to do something. Either start the monologue or leave. I had been up there lightly swaying for what seemed like forever. I wanted to turn and run. I wanted to say never mind. But then I caught Wes’s eye, and he smiled at me.

  And that smile melted my fears. Okay, maybe not every one of them, but enough to get me to start delivering my lines. Enough to make me realize I could do this. Enough to make me realize how very badly I wanted this to work out. “The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; in half an hour she promised to return. Perchance she cannot meet him: that’s not so. O, she is lame!”

  I glanced back at him, and he was still focused on me, his eyes encouraging, as if he knew I could do it. I had seen that look before—many years ago. I had fallen off my bike and skinned my legs and arms and refused to ever ride again. But the next day, Wes came over and said I should try again, that he’d go with me. Even though I was terrified, I said okay. He waited for me at the end of the driveway and cheered me on as I made my way toward him. He had the same look then as he was giving me now. It said, You can do this. I smiled back at him as I recited, “Love’s heralds should be thoughts, which ten times faster glide than the sun’s beams.” I didn’t quite know what the line meant, but saying the word love while looking at Wes was enough to make me feel as if I could do anything.

  When I finished, Jill gave me a thumbs-up, and I headed back to my seat. Wes winked at me as I passed him, and despite his new role as the winking bandit of Ohio, it still made me feel good. He was my Romeo. Now I just needed us both to land the parts.

  “That was great,” Kayla said as I took my seat.

  “You really think so?”

  “Yes, this is so your role. I can’t wait to design the dress for you!”

  I felt so relieved. I had done it. And I hadn’t fallen off the stage or broken a wrist or knocked anything over. I was actually okay.

  Although I hated Shakespeare, I stuck around
for the rest of the auditions. I liked having Wes there encouraging me, and I thought maybe some of my classmates could use a friendly face, too. And I was a very good audience member. I smiled and nodded at everyone on stage in case they needed some support—even my competition. And I applauded. For everyone. Even though I was almost the only one doing it.

  My ears perked up when Wes’s name was called. He totally owned the stage. You couldn’t help but watch his every move. The way he maneuvered his body so regally, the easy way he smiled when he spoke about Juliet, the way his arm flexed when he pointed to the balcony where his love was supposed to be. Sure, I had no idea what he was saying, but that was Shakespeare’s fault—not his. Wes still managed to make the words sound sexy. Shakespeare owed him one.

  “You are definitely the best Juliet,” Kayla said.

  “Thanks,” I said, but unfortunately there was still one more to go. Amanda Andrews had signed up for the final audition slot.

  She virtually glided onto the stage when they called her name. Then in a grandiose motion, she threw her script to the floor and began to speak. And she was good. Really good. Like made-me-almost-understand-what-the-whole-monologue-was-about good. I felt the urgency and desperation in her voice. Her need for the nurse to come back so she’d know if Romeo got her message and what his response was. She looked like a girl madly in love. Amanda Andrews could act.

  Everyone applauded when she finished. Really applauded, not just the polite smattering some auditioners got. These were legit.

  “Now that is how you do it,” Ryan said.

  Amanda crushed my plan. There was no way I was getting to play Juliet now.

  Everyone was singing her praises. Not that I could blame the crowd. Apparently, she had stolen the show last year, too, with her scene from The Tempest. My only chance to get cast was if Ryan or another director fought to have her in their scene. They had to want her. How could they not? But still … if she wanted my part, she’d have it.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, when Amanda left the stage and came down the aisle, Wes was nodding, smiling, and looking at her like she was … well … his Juliet.

  I was in trouble.

  5

  Jill sent me a text. Meet me in the bathroom.

  She was already waiting there when I showed up. “Em…”

  I shook my head. She didn’t need to say anything. I could tell by her face. I wasn’t going to be Juliet. “You don’t need to explain. I was there. I get it. You have to cast Amanda.”

  “I’m—”

  I cut her off. “It’s okay. She deserves it. And I know how important this is to you. You have a better shot at best director with her anyway.”

  Her face looked pained. “I’d still pick you if I could, but she said she’d only accept the part of Juliet, and it’s not just my decision.” Jill wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted this. And Wes…”

  “Stop,” I said. “It’s not your fault. I get it.” It sucked, and of course I was upset that I wasn’t going to get to work with Wes, but I understood. And I certainly wasn’t going to blame Jill for doing what she had to do.

  “I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

  I leaned back against the counter. “Thanks.”

  “I’m really sorry, Em. If it makes you feel better, even though I know Amanda is really talented, I’m not looking forward to working with her. Did you see what she did when she passed in her audition sheet? She patted me on the head and said, ‘You’re the lucky little director who gets to work with me.’”

  Jill must have been fuming. She hated when people commented on her height. She said there was a lot more to her than her size (which there was) and got majorly annoyed when people referred to her four-foot-ten stature. Amanda knew this. Jill told her off after Amanda made fun of her last year. Clearly, the message didn’t sink in. Patting her on the head? That was so patronizing.

  “She’s horrible,” I said. “I can’t stand her.” I got along with just about everybody at school, yet there was something about Amanda (probably the way she treated everyone) that made me want to scream.

  “It gets worse,” Jill said. “She stipulated that she’d only take Wes as her Romeo. It’s driving me crazy. Who does she think she is? She’s not in charge of casting. She is going to be such a pain to work with. Sapna directed her in The Tempest last year, and this year she won’t even work on the production. Her experience was totally soured. Sapna said she had had enough of the self-entitled, know-it-all Amanda actor–types to fill a lifetime.”

  I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’d heard Amanda try to control, manipulate, and bully one too many people to think she’d be any other way. “You’re a great director, though,” I assured Jill. “I know you’ll make it work.”

  “I still wish you were a part of the scene, though. I loved the idea of helping bring you and Wes together. Maybe you can be my assistant or something?”

  Being at rehearsals could help, but it wasn’t the same as being thought of as Wes’s love interest—even if it was just in a play. Then it hit me. “Jill, that’s it! You’re a genius.”

  “Huh? Because I want to make you my assistant?”

  “No, I’m thinking more of the or something. You can make me Amanda’s understudy!”

  “What? Are you nuts? One-night school performances don’t have understudies. Aren’t you the one who keeps reminding me this isn’t Broadway?”

  “Well, maybe that should change.”

  “Em, no one’s going to want to learn all those lines to never get to say them.”

  “Then don’t make everyone do it. Just make me,” I said.

  “So the only person in the whole production who will have an understudy is Amanda?” Jill asked. “She’s going to love that one.”

  “Who cares? She thinks she has all the control. Let’s turn it around. Blame it on me. Tell her, tell the directors, tell everyone I really need the extra credit, and there’s no other place for me. That they should see me trying to build a set or hang lights. That this will cause the least damage to the production as a whole. They’ll understand. They’ve all seen how klutzy I am. They’ll think you’re even taking one for the team. Besides, they know we’re friends. They won’t care. You can even tell Mrs. Heller that my role is understudy/director’s assistant. And I will assist you—in whatever you need. I promise.”

  “I don’t know if it will work,” Jill said, but she looked as if she was seriously considering my proposal. I just needed one final push.

  “And come on, it’s extra backup for you. If Amanda gets all dramatic and quits, you still have a Juliet. And I’m practically Amanda’s size. I’ll even fit into the costume. This is a win-win. Make me the understudy, please?” I folded my hands together and got down on my knees. “Please, please, please, please, please, please.”

  “All right, all right,” she said. “Get up. I’ll do it.”

  I jumped to my feet and pulled her into a big bear hug. “You are the best friend ever. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

  I could tell she thought this plan was out there, but I knew it would work! It was the perfect scenario and so much better than being the real Juliet. I was going to be able to sit in on every rehearsal, get close to Romeo, and never have to take the stage. My plan to win over Wes was officially under way!

  6

  I skipped—literally skipped—into the first R&J rehearsal. Amanda and Wes were already on stage. Jill was there, too. I waved. Jill and Wes waved back. Amanda glowered. To say she was not excited to have an understudy was putting it mildly. Jill told me she had spent two hours on the phone calming her down. And while I felt bad that Jill had to go through that, I was kind of loving that my-way-or-no-way Amanda was being knocked off her pedestal.

  I took a seat in the middle of the auditorium and got comfortable. Being an understudy was the life. The actors had to do all the work, while I got to relax. Part of me wanted to just put on my iPod and
chill, but I owed it to Jill to at the very least learn my lines. And how hard could it be? I had every day in rehearsal to do it. I pulled out the pages Jill had photocopied for me. There were only four, but, man, was there a lot of words. This was going to be a little more challenging than I thought.

  My eyes started to glaze over as I read through Juliet’s lines. What was I looking at? Sentences like, “How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?,” “Yet, if thou swear’st, thou mayst prove false,” and “Therefore thou mayst think my ’havior light.” This was insane. Why did everyone love this play so much? It made no sense.

  For the next thirty minutes I tried to hammer the words into my brain, but nothing stuck. But it was only the first day; by showtime I’d be fine.

  “Okay,” Jill said, “Wes, you can take a seat. Amanda, let’s work on your monologue for a bit.” She turned back to me and smiled. She really was amazing; she was giving me Wes time! Although Amanda’s monologue was no joke. It was a gazillion lines long and was full of what had to be random words arbitrarily put together.

  “Want to run lines?” Wes asked, taking a seat next to me.

  Could hearts stop when confronted with too much hotness? Because I felt like mine was about to. “With me?”

  “Yeah, with you. You’re the understudy, aren’t you?” He winked at me. And, okay, I’ll admit, his new little habit was growing on me—even if he did share it with way too many people.

  “Let’s start with your line,” he said.

  I nodded, although I didn’t know how I was going to talk. He was sitting so close, and he smelled really good, like a mix of shampoo and outdoors and boy—a really handsome boy. “Ay me!” I read.