‘No, Mickey was a joke. Wear the red tie.’
‘Perfect,’ Dad announced. ‘It’ll match the roses.’
Ms DeForest was getting roses? Why did Dad have to be a romantic?
I chastised myself. I had received a glorious bouquet today. Who was I to deny Ms DeForest flowers?
I plastered a smile on my face. ‘Get ready and I’ll check you over before you leave.’
I went downstairs, remembering that Hayden was presumably still in our lounge room. An image of his hand stroking my cheek burned into my brain. I reached the hallway and my throat went dry. What would I say to him?
I stopped at the lounge-room entrance. Snookums and Bebe were batting at the heart balloon tied to the lowest branch. I turned my eyes to Hayden, who was looking at a sheet of paper on the coffee table. The sheet of paper that held a rough draft of my poem, ‘The Prince’.
I let out a scream. Hayden leapt in the air like he’d been shot. Snookums and Bebe bolted under the sofa.
I snatched the poem up from the table. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Aurora, I can explain —’
‘There’s no worthy explanation!’ I grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him out of the lounge room.
‘I was just looking for a piece of paper to leave you a note to tell you I had to go —’
‘What? Go break into someone else’s house to read their private information?’ I pushed him down the hall.
‘You invited me in!’ Hayden’s mouth twitched in amusement.
‘Under false pretences.’ I threw open the front door. ‘Great tactic. Come bearing gifts, then go through my belongings!’
‘I’m so sorry, Aurora.’ Hayden held out a hand. ‘It was a complete accident I even read it. I feel awful, I —’
‘Sure!’ I yelled. ‘I’m sure you’re feeling awful. Awfully happy as you head out to tell everyone about my crappy poem —’
‘It was beautiful,’ Hayden interrupted.
I threw the poem at him. ‘Why don’t you just take it and make photocopies? Go on! I’m sure I couldn’t feel any more embarrassed than I do now.’
The NAD appeared on the staircase. He looked awkward.
‘I didn’t interrupt a romantic goodbye again, did I?’
I laughed in what I hoped was a scornful way. ‘There is no romance between us, and there will never be. Not even in your wildest James-Bondesque dreams, Hayden. Never!’
Hayden opened his mouth to reply but I slammed the door shut.
‘Aurora!’ Dad opened the door, revealing Hayden again. ‘That’s incredibly rude.’
‘Why don’t you talk to Hayden about rude?’ I yelled and ran upstairs.
‘Don’t worry, son,’ I heard the NAD say. ‘She’ll come around.’
I’d never come around. I sank to my bedroom floor, lines of the poem dancing in my head. Where is the Prince who is to win my heart? I wanted to cry. I could just picture Hayden’s smirk as he read those lines. Now he’d probably tell everyone about my unhealthy obsession with finding a Prince.
Why had I been so honest?
Because I’d never dreamt that anyone except my romance-loving English teacher would read the poem. I hadn’t planned on the bane of my life sneaking into my house!
‘Aurora?’ The NAD tapped at my door. ‘I have to leave for my date now, but cheer up. Love will reign supreme.’
‘Arggh!’ What had Hayden told Dad?
After Dad’s car had pulled out of the driveway, I started running a bath. I glanced at myself in the mirror and recoiled. I had long, angry scratches up and down my arms and legs, at least five twigs stuck in my hair and a huge smudge of dirt on my cheek.
I remembered how Hayden had stroked that very spot, and clenched my jaw. Obviously his plan had been to distract me in order to stay in the house long enough to find my poem. I must have been delusional to wonder if he was going to kiss me. Twenty minutes selecting a balloon. Yeah, right.
I sank into the bubble bath and started to relax. So Hayden had made fun of me again. Well, what else was new? Hayden’s whole existence was about tormenting me — I’d always known that.
It was time to focus on happier things. Out there, not so far away, was my Potential Prince. A guy who was pure of heart, and generous, if today’s bouquet was any indication. That was what I should be concentrating on, not base things like Hayden Paris.
CHAPTER 18
The Fraud of Men was Ever So
‘The first scene we’ll be rehearsing today is the deception of Benedick by Don Pedro, Claudio and Leonato,’ Mr Peterman announced at Monday’s rehearsal.
I stood backstage with Lindsay, who was taking my measurements for my costumes, and Jelena and Cassie, who were conferring about the props needed for each scene.
‘For act four, we’ll need swords for Dogberry and Verges,’ Jelena said.
‘I’d like a sword right now.’ I glared at Hayden. Mr Peterman was instructing him to hide behind a hedge. Maybe Jelena could arrange for the hedge to be made of poison ivy or something.
‘Murderous muttering is never a good look, Aurora,’ chirped Jelena as she highlighted scenes in her script.
‘What’s happened now?’ Lindsay asked, jotting down my hip measurement.
‘Just a break-and-enter under the cruel guise of bringing Snookums, Bebe and me Valentine’s Day balloons —’
‘Hayden brought you Valentine’s balloons?’ Sara interrupted. She was standing at the backstage mirror, practising her evil Don John face.
‘That’s so sweet!’ Lindsay squealed.
‘You never told me this story.’ Cassie was trying to hide a smile.
‘That’s because it’s a tale of extreme personal suffering brought about by Hayden’s blatant disregard of my privacy.’ I could still see him peering down at my poem. ‘Can we please discuss someone else’s love life?’ I rubbed my temples.
‘Ooh!’ Jelena looked up from her props list. ‘Let’s discuss mine. I’d like to announce that Alex has been very attentive since Valentine’s Day.’ She smoothed her ebony hair. ‘He called me on the weekend for, and I quote, “no reason”, and brought me coffee today. There’s nothing like competition to get a guy moving.’
‘That’s great, Jelena,’ I said. ‘Cass, how are things between you and Scott?’
‘Weird,’ Cassie said, looking around to see that Scott couldn’t overhear. ‘You know how you told me to act like nothing happened? Well, today he asked me how my Valentine’s Day was. I managed to stammer out an “okay”. I don’t know if he was referring to the yellow rose or the whole motorbike fiasco. He’s probably realised I was spying on him.’
‘I wonder why he hasn’t said anything about it then?’ Jelena pondered.
‘Maybe he wants to spare Cassie the embarrassment.’ Lindsay moved over to take Sara’s measurements.
‘Maybe he didn’t even cotton on to the whole spying thing,’ I said, looking for my next cue. ‘We were away from the bushes by the time he spotted you.’
‘Here’s where the song comes in,’ Mr Peterman announced. ‘Which, going with the fifties vibe, will be a cocktail number. Music, please.’
The singer began. ‘Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever …’
Were they ever. Hayden was prime proof of that. He might be a Student Council member and star student, but I knew the truth.
‘One foot in sea and one on shore …’
‘Maybe Scott’s like that,’ Jelena whispered. ‘Maybe he’s got one Converse in the water and the other on land. Cassie, you should just give up. Who wants an indecisive man?’
Cassie sighed. ‘I don’t think I can. Too much of my heart is caught up.’
‘I’ll ask Alex if he has any available friends,’ Jelena said, ignoring Cassie’s comment. ‘You and I could double date!’
‘I think you should give Scott a chance,’ I said. ‘He gave you a beautiful rose only three days ago.’
‘Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, O
f dumps so dull and heavy; The fraud of men was ever so …’
This song was so non-conducive to encouraging Cassie to keep the faith. I looked at Hayden onstage. He had his hands over his ears, pretending to groan at the song. He would deny the truth about himself.
‘Converting all your sounds of woe into hey nonny, nonny …’
I was going to pretend that I couldn’t care less about Hayden Paris. I’d just sing hey nonny nonny. Whatever that meant.
‘Come hither, Leonato,’ said Don Pedro. ‘What was it you told me of today, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?’
Hayden’s jaw dropped in shock.
‘Excellent, Hayden,’ Mr Peterman said. ‘Now, lean further into the bush to try to overhear more.’
‘Why, what effects of passion shows she?’
‘Then down upon her knees she falls,’ Claudio cried, dropping to his knees. ‘Weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; “O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!”’
Hayden, eavesdropping, was wearing an expression of pure delight. This was pushing it too far. There was no way Beatrice — aka me — could be on the verge of hysteria over Hayden Paris/Benedick.
I leapt onstage. ‘Mr Peterman!’
‘Ah, my lady love! I am blessed with a visit!’ Hayden pulled himself away from the imaginary hedge.
‘Zip it, Paris.’ I turned to Mr Peterman. He was sitting in a director’s chair with his name scrawled across the back. A leftover prop from his soap-opera days perhaps. ‘This play is going too far! Even for Shakespeare! In all honesty, would Beatrice dote on a man like this, Mr Peterman? Would she?’ I stared at him like a prosecutor cross-examining a witness.
‘Aurora, may I remind you that this scene is showing Don Pedro’s plot? It’s not an indication of Beatrice’s actual actions.’
There were several snickers in the audience.
‘Well, good,’ I replied. ‘What woman beats her heart and tears her hair out when she’s in love?’
‘She might if it’s unrequited love.’ Hayden wiped away an imaginary tear. ‘It tears you apart.’
I glared at Hayden perched at the edge of the stage. God, I wanted to push him off.
‘Can we continue?’ Mr Peterman waved me away.
I hung around near the curtain as they kept reading the scene.
‘Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she will die, if he love her not, and she will die, ere she make her love known, and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness,’ Claudio said.
‘Beatrice will die?’ I strode back onstage. ‘This is so not a family-friendly production, Mr Peterman.’
‘Especially with the bra burning and sexual frustration,’ Jeffrey called out, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
‘Enough!’ Mr Peterman roared. ‘Everyone get back to the scene.’
I tried to calm my intense irritation at being saddled with Hayden for a future hubby, but the next scene just made it worse. Hero and Margaret tricked Beatrice into thinking that Benedick was in love with her. It was my turn to hide now, behind an imaginary wall, listening in.
‘Okay, Beatrice’s soliloquy!’ Mr Peterman said at the end of Margaret and Hero’s lies. ‘Go, Aurora.’
‘What fire is in mine ears?’ I muttered. ‘Can this be true? … And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee —’
‘Aurora, you’re meant to look joyful, not like you’re being sent to the guillotine,’ Mr Peterman cut in. ‘Stop there. You’ll have to work on that.’
‘Is it really so painful being loved by me?’ Hayden asked as I came offstage.
‘That’s one question that can be answered with a resounding yes.’
His eyes dimmed slightly. ‘Aurora, is this about the poem?’
‘It’s about everything, Hayden.’ I folded my arms over my chest.
‘It’s about the poem,’ he said. ‘I can tell. You weren’t reacting like this on Friday.’
I clenched my fists. Was he referring to the hand-on-cheek incident, during which he’d been secretly laughing at my gullibility?
‘Funny,’ I said, pretending to search my thoughts. ‘Because Friday brings back a memory of me pushing you out the door.’
‘Before you pushed me out the door,’ Hayden said. ‘Before your dad came home.’
He was referring to it. He was dead.
‘Can I have all the boys onstage for costume measurements?’ Mr Peterman called.
Hayden didn’t budge. He just kept looking at me.
‘What?’ I said, throwing my arms in the air in frustration.
‘Don’t you have a reaction to my statement?’
‘It’s not worth reacting to,’ I replied.
Hayden’s eyes dimmed even further. ‘You know, I don’t understand why you only ever see me as an enemy, Aurora. Because the way I see you is very different.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m really sorry about the poem.’
I pulled away.
‘I never meant to pry. Like I told you, I was looking for a piece of paper to leave you a note.’
‘Hayden, you’re wanted onstage,’ Mr Peterman called.
Hayden strode out to the group of guys. Against my better judgment, I followed him. I didn’t want him to have the last word.
‘Whatever happened to our friendship?’ Hayden asked.
‘Friendship?’
‘When we were younger. When we used to hang out at each other’s places —’
‘And you pushed me in the pool.’
I turned away to join Jelena, Cassie and Sara down in front of the stage.
‘Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about that!’ Hayden cried. ‘That was an accident!’
‘It’s always an accident with you, isn’t it, Paris? You accidentally read my poem, accidentally make me think you’re a burglar —’
‘Are we ever going to be friends again?’ Hayden cut in, so quietly I had to lean in to hear him.
I looked at him more closely. Was this an act?
His eyes were all sincerity.
I began to say that I didn’t know, but was interrupted by Mr Peterman.
‘Ms Skye? Are you male?’ he yelled.
‘She is wholly and deliciously female,’ Jeffrey, halfway along the line, answered for me.
My cheeks burned in embarrassment as I leapt off the stage. Lindsay started to take the guys’ measurements.
‘Why don’t I make this easier for you?’ Alex said to her, and ripped his shirt off, revealing a seriously toned and tanned six-pack.
There was an audible gasp from the female members of the audience.
Benjamin took one look at Alex and pulled his own shirt off.
‘Here’s some eye candy, ladies,’ Jeffrey cried, ripping off his polo shirt.
Jelena sighed. ‘Any excuse for Jeffrey to get nude. Couldn’t he leave the shirtless thing to Alex and Benjamin? They at least have upper-body definition.’
The next moment, the entire line of thirty guys was naked up top. Except Hayden, even though I knew he had a chest to rival Alex’s.
Jeffrey threw his socks into the audience and reached for the zip of his pants.
‘Please no,’ Jelena said.
We all shielded our eyes, then looked up again as the auditorium door was thrown open to reveal Mr Quinten and an important-looking visitor.
‘Mr Quinten’s reaction was a bit extreme,’ Cassie said as we helped her carry a newly dry backdrop from the outside courtyard to the backstage area the next day.
Jelena raised an eyebrow. ‘A bit extreme? He was moments away from suspending the whole male cast.’
‘You’d think that being in the army all those years would make Mr Quinten oblivious to shirtless guys,’ Lindsay said as we wrangled the backdrop through the door and up against one of the backstage walls. ‘Why did he freak out so much?’
‘Probably because of the Board of Studies official with him,’ I replied. ‘
Just as Mr Quinten was promoting order and conformity to ensure future funding, there were students indulging in a free-spirited shedding of their attire.’
‘Which some people should never do without spending some time in the gym,’ Jelena said. She sat down at one of the desks and pulled out her lighting plan.
‘The worst part about it is that Mr Peterman invited the official to the play,’ I said. ‘Now he’s going to be even more obsessed about the authenticity of our characters, which means I’m somehow going to have to convince everyone of my love for Hayden.’
Sara got a wicked look in her eyes.
‘Don’t say it.’
I was not in the mood for a defend-Hayden session. Every time I thought of him I remembered his plea of ‘Are we ever going to be friends again?’ After everything he’d done to me? Not a chance. Just the thought of it was exhausting.
‘Let’s talk about something much more interesting,’ I said. ‘The identity of my secret admirer.’
‘Ooh!’ Lindsay joined Jelena at the table and opened up her design sketchbook. ‘Has anyone come up with any ideas?’
‘I was thinking that it could be Tom McKenzie,’ Cassie said. ‘He’s always reading the classics. Very literary. He could have easily written the message.’
‘Nuh-uh.’ Lindsay shook her head. ‘He’s dating a girl over at St Mary’s.’
‘Seriously dating her?’ Jelena asked.
‘Jelena! I’m not touching another woman’s man,’ I said firmly. ‘Even if he did give me a bouquet.’
‘They’re practically engaged,’ Lindsay said, adding pump shoes to the costume she’d sketched out for Hero.
‘Like you and Tyler,’ Cassie said softly.
Lindsay frowned slightly as she added detail to Hero’s shoes.
‘The real problem is narrowing it down,’ Cassie said.
‘Eureka!’ Sara shrieked, and I felt excitement surge through me, tingling my fingertips. Had Sara figured out who it was?
‘Eureka?’ Jelena repeated. ‘Sara, who says that?’
Sara ignored her. ‘I’ve got it! We ask the florist! Your admirer would have had to pay in person or via a credit card. Either way, they’ll have a name on record.’
How to Keep a Boy from Kissing You Page 19