by Michelle Ray
My eyes dart to Ben, but he’s looking at the screen expressionless, so I look back at the screen.
“B, if he wanted to get back together, would you do it?”
“No. I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
I remembered her genuine look of surprise.
“Can’t. My uncle—We made this deal.”
My eyes welled up onscreen, and I ached to see my own hurt.
“A deal about Ben?”
“Yes. To protect him. I didn’t want to tell anyone, and now it’s too late. Ben hates me.” On-screen-me buries her face in her hands.
“Do you love him?” Sula asks.
“Stop!” I said in real life, but she didn’t listen to me.
Onscreen, I whisper, “Yes. Now can we talk about something else?”
I hated my friends. Hated them for this.
Ben
“You — you love me?” I whispered, turning to her.
B had curled in on herself and wouldn’t answer.
Terrified that it was all a lie, my entire body started shaking. “I’m gonna kill you, Peter.”
“No you’re not,” said Peter, but he did scoot away a little.
The door opened and Antonio came in. “Here you are! I didn’t know what a green room is.”
“So, what did they say?” Sula asked Antonio.
Antonio held up his phone.
Beatriz
“Beatriz,” my father says onscreen, “your brother wants us to say something.”
My mother interrupts. “I don’t understand why this has to be filmed.”
“Oh, you know this generation doesn’t believe anything is real unless it’s recorded.”
She sighs and asks, “Beatríz, why didn’t you tell us my brother forced you to break up with Ben?”
I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look up at them. Couldn’t. My shame was so deep.
My father says, “Paola, she was afraid that he would hurt Ben. She probably didn’t want anybody else hurt.”
“True,” my mother says. “My brother was very angry.”
“You were, too, Amor.” She nods, and he continues. “Your mother and I have talked, and we have no objection to your being together.”
“I wouldn’t say no objection, but—”
“Well, despite some objections, you may do as you please. And Ben? I assume you’re watching this. Ben, don’t you hurt our baby.”
“And there will be rules.”
“Okay, Mamá,” my brother says off screen. “You can tell her about all that later.”
I wasn’t sure what to say or where to look. What if Ben still didn’t want me?
Ben
Incredible. Incredible! I didn’t know whether to kiss or kick her for putting us through all that. I would have taken anything that her uncle or parents could have done to me if it meant she wouldn’t have left me.
Well, maybe not. Being expelled? Having my college dreams dashed? That would have sucked.
God, she kept this huge secret to protect me. No one had ever done anything like that for me before.
“B?” I asked.
Her voice unsteady, she said, “I answer to that name.”
“You love me?”
She breathed out slowly, and the pause nearly killed me. But then a twinkle lit her eye, and she said, “No more than is reasonable. I love you like a friend.”
I cocked my head, ready to play. “So you lied to Sula?”
She shrugged and asked, “Do you love me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “No more than is reasonable. Like a friend.”
“So you lied to Peter.”
“I’m unreliable. You’ve said it yourself countless times.”
She put her hands on her hips like a game was beginning, a game she wanted to win. “According to Peter, you’re almost sick for me.”
I leaned back against a table in an attempt to appear relaxed. “And according to Sula you’re going to die without me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Me neither.”
We faced off, a deadlock. Smiles were tugging at our lips.
“Come on, B,” called out Sula, waving her phone. “We all heard what you really think.”
B snapped her fingers in exaggerated disappointment. “Betrayed by technology.”
“Just go to him,” urged Antonio. “You know you want to.”
I regarded her coolly. “I guess I’ll take you back out of pity.”
Beatriz
My heart backflipped, but I wouldn’t show my joy. This was too fun. Instead I replied just as coolly, “Fine. As will I. I mean, I wouldn’t have you die on account of my refusing.”
“Enough,” Ben said, sauntering across the room, his hands in his pockets.
I eased in his direction until we were standing toe to toe. He started to lean in but hesitated. Then a wary, excited smile formed on his lips — lips I couldn’t wait another second to kiss. I did and we melted into each other like we had a hundred kisses and a lifetime ago.
Epilogue
Doug Dogberry Thank you Beatriz and Ben for being the first to get your senior video yearbook profiles in. Come on guys. Where are the other 200 of you? We need time to edit.
[Ben and Beatriz are bundled up and huddled in front of a camera.]
Ben: Here we are in Newport.
Beatriz: Freezing our butts off.
Ben: Who knew April in Rhode Island would be so cold?
Beatriz: Me. I told you.
Ben: No, you said, “Not as nice as Hawaii.”
Beatriz: What is? I was giving you an out. [To camera] But Ben, being an all around decent guy, decided to spend his spring break visiting Hope’s grave.
Ben: That is not all we’re doing.
Beatriz: Keep it clean, Benjamin.
Ben: I was. Just because your mind is in the gutter.
Beatriz: I learned from the best.
Ben: In all ways. [He winks, and she slaps at his arm.] Aaaanyway, I was going to say that after we leave this cheerful part of the trip, we are driving up the coast and heading for Boston.
Beatriz: To visit colleges, since we both got accepted there.
Ben: Different schools.
Beatriz: But the same city.
Ben: Which is good. [He puts an arm around her.]
Beatriz: Very good. We wanted to start off by saying goodbye to Hope, who we miss.
Ben: Very much. ‘Course, we don’t miss everyone.
Beatriz: Nope.
Ben: Bryce and John, if you see this, the team and the school are fine without you.
Beatriz: Amen. But back to Hope. We wanted to show you all where she’s buried.
Ben: But it seemed too depressing.
Beatriz: It’s perfect, though. Peaceful. Pretty. I hope . . . I hope she found some peace. [Looks away] Ben, turn that off.
Ben: [Whispers in B’s ear until she nods and looks back] Okay, B? Okay. So, we sat down with some of Hope’s old friends from here, and they gave us some great pictures of her—
Beatriz: Happy pictures, which we’ll include in the paper yearbook.
Ben: Wait, why do we have paper and digital yearbooks?
Beatriz: It’s a transition era, Ben. People still want something tangible.
Ben: You got that right.
Beatriz: Seriously? My parents are going to see this.
Ben: [Clears his throat] Uh, yeah. Speaking of parents, thank you to Mr. and Mrs. Rojas for allowing us to go on another road trip.
Beatriz: Thanking my parents? I’m impressed.
Ben: I’m an impressive guy!
Beatriz: Hmmm. And thank you to my brother for making our dating again possible.
Ben: And thank you to our friends who once again couldn’t leave well enough alone—
Beatriz: But helped get us back together.
Ben: Even though that whole thing at the dance could have blown up in all our faces.
Beatriz: True. But it didn�
��t.
Ben: No, it didn’t. Peter and Sula, if you guys are still together at the end of the year, we wanted to tell you that we knew all along that you were made for each other.
Beatriz: If not, well, loves comes and love goes—
Ben: Love? Why is it always about love?
Beatriz: Everyone needs love, Ben.
Ben: Even the impervious Beatriz?
Beatriz: Even the retired hound dog, Ben?
Ben: Retired?
Beatriz: Off the market?
Ben: Let’s not get crazy, B. [Beatriz punches his shoulder] Ow. This is how lasting relationships must happen — by brute force. You all saw that, right?
Beatriz: [laughter]
Ben: [kisses her hand]
Beatriz: Should we end this with a song?
Ben: Sure.
Beatriz: “So Long Farewell”?
Ben: No show tunes.
Beatriz: [bats her eyelashes] But you know so many of them.
Ben: B! We agreed that was between us.
Beatriz: [slaps her forehead and smirks] Oops.
Ben: Dylan? “You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go?”
Beatriz: Too depressing.
Ben: “Love is a Battlefield”?
Beatriz: Retro. Fitting. Good choice. See? I’m growing. I give. I compromise.
Ben: Yes, B, you’re much better now.
Beatriz: I am. [He smiles at her.] Shut up.
Ben: Sing.
Ben & Beatriz:
We are strong, no one can tell us we’re wrong/
Searchin’ our hearts for so long, both of us knowing/
Love Is A Battlefield
[They wave. Screen goes black.]
Thanks
Thanks to Jonathan and Lauren for endlessly cheerleading.
Love to my girls. Now that you’re older, it’s easier to find time to write!
Maybe someday you’ll read my books . . . and not feel scandalized.
My friends who read my drafts, thanks for your keen eyes that spot grammar and spelling errors, your Spanish expertise, and your suggestions for improving everything from plot points to individual sentences. Your enthusiasm and patience amaze me.
My family and friends, you make my life a joy.
Some of you share my love of Shakespeare. Some of you are just wrong.
Just sayin’.
About the Author
Michelle Ray is a writer, middle school teacher and Shakespeare fan. She lives in Silver Spring, MD, with her husband and daughters. Her first novel, Falling for Hamlet, was published by Little, Brown and inspired the E! TV show The Royals. Her Mac/Beth inspired no TV shows, but her friends now think she has a twisted imagination. She blames Shakespeare.
Contact
Website: michelleraybooks.com
Facebook: Michelle Ray writer
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @mraywriter