Romeo & What's Her Name

by Shani Petroff

  What Amanda did to Jill still made me angry.

  “So you definitely wouldn’t be ruining anything for me,” Jill continued. “But Amanda would get to see what it feels like to be replaced last second without being told. Plus, I have a feeling your version of Romeo and Juliet will be a lot more entertaining than anything I—or Ryan—could have come up with.”

  “And,” Kayla added, “you keep saying you want to go big. This would definitely qualify.”

  I shook my head. “It’s tempting, but I don’t know if I want to go THAT big. Besides, I wouldn’t even know what to do once I got up there.”

  “Maybe you just need a director,” Jill said, and nodded toward Kayla. “Or two.”

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she repeated. “You helped me with Seth, now I can return the favor.” She got extra shy whenever she mentioned his name, especially after what happened at the dance. I caught her kissing him in the corner of the cafeteria, but I wasn’t the only one. Mr. Asghar, the chemistry teacher, saw them, too, and asked them if he needed to get out the hose to break them apart. Jill was mortified. Seth had been pretty embarrassed, too. They were both big blushers and were stop-sign red when I caught up with them afterward. It was so noticeable that Kayla couldn’t keep herself from secretly taking a picture of them. If they were still a couple next year (which I was definitely rooting for), she planned to print it up and give it to them as an anniversary gift.

  “I didn’t fix you up for something in return.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t want to help you.”

  “We both want to,” Kayla said. “And, seriously, this sounds like fun. Trying to top your last turn as Juliet? This will be insane. The grandest of grand gestures.”

  “But the three of us can do it,” Jill assured me.

  I hoped she was right, because I was going all-in.

  I pulled out a notebook, and we got busy planning.

  Come tomorrow, Emily Stein was going to reclaim her role—and her Romeo!

  29

  This was crazy. There was no way I could go through with this plan. There were smarter ways to tell Wes I cared. It wasn’t too late to back out. That lump in the back of my throat all day told me I probably should. Last period was just minutes away. I had to make up my mind. Kayla and Jill were about to set everything in motion. I watched the clock tick closer to do-or-die time. Four minutes. Three. Two. One. The bell rang.

  This was it. Against my better judgment, I raced to the auditorium. I was supposed to go to English first, and we were going to walk to the performance as a class, but I needed every extra second I could get. Wes, Amanda, Kayla, and Jill were already there. They got special permission to go early since they were a part of the show. Wes and Amanda were obviously the actors. Kayla was helping them get into costume. And Jill, well, even though Amanda didn’t think of her as the director anymore, Mrs. Heller did. So we decided to use that to our advantage. Jill was in charge of keeping everyone where they needed to be—including my teacher. And Kayla had just as tricky a task.

  “Ready?” Jill asked when I reached her.

  “Not really.”

  She put a hand on each of my arms and gave me a performance pep talk. “You can do this. We rehearsed. You know this. Now you just need to go out there, have fun, and win over Romeo.” I must not have looked persuaded, because her voice took on that determined tone it always does when she was superserious. “Wes Rosenthal has been the only thing you’ve talked about for weeks. Months. Years. If you don’t do this, how are you going to feel? Especially if he winds up with Amanda. I know you. You’re going to regret it if you don’t try. So, psych yourself up. You are ready. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good, Kayla should have your costume in a minute.”

  I nodded, but I still wasn’t 100 percent convinced. Jill made really great points, but this was so over the top. As we stood there in silence, waiting, my thoughts became deafening. This was going to be the dumbest move of my lifetime. Who hijacked the spotlight and made a huge spectacle of themselves—intentionally?

  I started pacing. Go take a seat in the auditorium, Emily. It wasn’t too late. That was the smart thing. The rational thing. Right?

  “Watch the…” Jill yelled, her voice tapering off as the door to dressing room one swung open, knocking me flat on my butt.

  “Emily, are you okay?”

  It was Wes. Of course it was.

  He crouched down next me. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful,” he said, giving me his arm to help me up.

  “Hiiii,” I sputtered, ungracefully getting to my feet while smoothing down my skirt. At least I didn’t flash him. “It’s fine. It was my fault. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “What are you doing back here?”

  “Never know when you’ll need an understudy, right?”

  “Wouldn’t want anyone else,” he said, and smiled at me. And I remembered why I was doing this. For Wes, the guy who gave me my first Valentine when we were five, the one who picked me up when I fell, the one who still smiled at me and said nice things even though I hurt him. There was no changing my mind or backing out now. Nerves or not, I needed him to know just how much he meant to me. He deserved a grand gesture.

  Kayla opened the door to dressing room two and quickly shut it behind her when she saw all of us. Her arms were filled with fabric.

  “Wes,” Jill said, ushering him away. “I was thinking it would be better if you entered from the other side. It will be more powerful if you don’t see Juliet until you’re on stage. Once I introduce the scene, that will be your cue to enter.”

  Once Wes was out of sight, Kayla dumped everything she was holding in his dressing room. “Okay,” she said. “We don’t have much time. Amanda thinks I’m steaming out some giant wrinkle in the back of the gown. We need to get moving before she gets suspicious.”

  Kayla was right. Even though part of me was still panicking, I pushed the feeling aside. I had work to do. I grabbed the doorstop I had stashed in my backpack last night and wedged it under Amanda’s door. She’d be trapped, at least temporarily. Jill came back, and the three of us grabbed the giant tree-stump prop that had been used in one of the other scenes and pushed it up against the door as an extra precaution.

  “This thing weighs a ton,” Kayla said.

  “That’s the point,” Jill informed her.

  “Are you sure the key won’t work?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Jill said as we finally maneuvered the stump exactly where it needed to be. Jill had informed us that even when you locked a door you could still get out from the inside. Otherwise, it was a fire-code violation.

  “Kayla?” Amanda called out. We apparently hadn’t been as quiet as we had hoped.

  “She’ll just be another minute,” Jill answered for her. “Don’t worry, it’s not like we can do this without you.” She turned back to us. “She’s not the only one who can lie. Now go get dressed.”

  Kayla and I rushed into the other dressing room, where she had dumped the costume. There were a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a bra, and a sweater there, too. “What is all this?” I asked.

  “Well, I figured, even if Amanda managed to get the door open, it’s not like she’s going to run out practically naked.”

  “Kayla! You stole her clothes?”

  “What? You say that like locking her in a dressing room is that much better. I’m going to give them back to her after. This will just ensure you more time. Now come on, put the gown on.”

  Yeah, this was all definitely insane.

  I slipped the dress on and sucked in my breath as Kayla tied the ribbons.

  There was banging on the other dressing room door. “What is going on out there? Why can’t I get out?” Amanda yelled.

  Jill popped her head into my dressing room. “I think we should get started. ASAP.”

  “Good call,” I said.

  “Get me out of here,” Amand
a screamed. I prayed no one heard her.

  I walked over to her dressing room. “I’m sorry,” I called to her. “I have to do this. I just need five minutes max. I promise we’ll let you out after that. Then you can do your scene. It will be a win-win for everyone.”

  “Emily, open this door,” she seethed. “I swear, you are all going to pay as soon as I get out of here.”

  I didn’t doubt that one bit. But it wasn’t like I was stealing her moment altogether. She was still going to get to perform afterward. I wasn’t going to be on stage forever. Still, I felt a twinge of guilt, but then I reminded myself what she did to Jill, and I pushed it aside. This was for love. I couldn’t worry about anything else—especially not Amanda—right now.

  Jill took the stage, and I waited on the sideline to make my entrance. Amanda was still loudly trying to get out. She had a decent set of lungs on her, but hopefully the acoustics would make it hard to hear her from the auditorium.

  “Welcome, everyone,” Jill began as Kayla did a final check-in with me.

  “Do you have your paper?”

  “Yep, and my phone.”

  “Perfect, now go crush it,” she said.

  “Without further ado,” Jill concluded, “please enjoy this unique take on Romeo and…” She paused. “… Juliet.”

  She left the stage.

  This was it. It was time for the most important performance of my life.

  30

  I was really doing this. Mustering all of my courage, I dashed onto the stage. The audience wasn’t helping my nerves. I could almost feel an excited energy permeate the room as I stepped up onto the balcony.

  “Here we go again,” one person called out. “This is going to be good,” another said. I looked out at the crowd. Huge mistake. Not only could I see Jill trying to buy me some time by talking to Mrs. Heller, but about ten phones were raised in the air waiting to catch my latest humiliation. Although I guess I couldn’t blame anyone, I brought this on myself.

  I just hoped Wes would find this endearing and not mortifying. Laughter and jokes from my classmates I could take, but rejection from Wes was going to be a lot harder.

  But I had to be brave. Risks could pay off. And even if they didn’t, they were a lot better than living with the “what ifs.”

  It was now or never. I smiled at Wes and pulled a piece of paper out from my dress pocket (I knew better than to think I could recite anything from memory when I was nervous) and started to read.

  “I know you must be wondering why I’m here, oh my Wes-eo, Wes-eo…” My voice was shaking. I hoped what sounded cute while sitting around a table with my two best friends didn’t come off as pathetically cheesy on stage. But I had to keep going. I was the one who always said Shakespeare didn’t make any sense, that anyone could write gibberish like that. Well, now it was my turn. (Which, FYI, totally gave me a new appreciation for Shakespeare’s stuff.) And while my words might not have been pure poetry, or any type of poetry for that matter (I was definitely more of a math and science girl), I tried, I was making the effort, and hopefully that counted for something. I forged ahead. “It’s because I had to repair-eth my giant mess-eo.”

  I glanced up at him. His mouth was slightly open. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I just kept on reading. “I jumped to conclusions when I thought you were saying no, so I’m trying to fix-eth that right now with this show. I wasn’t brave enough to tell you how I genuinely felt, that when I see you, my heart starts to melt.” I was dying to see his face, to see how he was responding, but I couldn’t look up again. Not yet. I needed to get through this, and, well, I was too afraid to see what he thought. I kept reading. “I really wanted to go with you to the dance-eth, so I truly hope you’ll give me a second chance-eth.”

  I pulled out my phone from the hidden pocket in the dress. It was charged this time. I pressed my thumb on the screen to turn it on, and up popped the song I had ready to go. This was it. I took a deep breath (as deep as I could while wearing a corset), steadied my hand, hit Play, and held the phone up over my head. The song “In Your Eyes” from Say Anything … blasted from the speaker.

  Please like this, please like this, please like this, I silently pleaded.

  I knew the entire auditorium was watching me, but somehow it felt as if it were just Wes and me. His eyes were the only ones that mattered. I braved a look. His face was softer than before. He still looked utterly shocked, but it seemed like I was getting through to him. I just had one more line to go. I could do this. “I did this grand—”

  A loud crash pulled me from the moment and turned my attention to the back of the auditorium.

  The doors had been slammed open, sending them flying into the wall. And standing smack in the middle of the opening was a livid Amanda.

  She was wearing a costume that had been left in the dressing room. A poofy bright pink ball gown from the senior class’s production of The Wizard of Oz. It was about four sizes too big for her. She was holding it up with one hand and pointing at me with the other. Her hair was a mess, her eyes wild, and her teeth bared. Basically, she looked like Glinda the Good Witch, if Glinda had fought off the zombie apocalypse and lost.

  “Oh no,” I said.

  “GET OFF MY STAGE!” she screamed, and barreled down the aisle. I had always heard the expression, if looks could kill, but I never truly experienced it until that moment. She ran onto the stage, and I was no fool; as she headed for me, I went the other direction.

  Normally she’d be faster than me—which is not saying much, since I came in dead last in the high school fitness exam, but I had the upper hand at the moment. Even though we were both in gowns, hers had so much mesh underneath the bell skirt she was about six feet in circumference. Not to mention, if she didn’t hold up the dress, either it would fall off her or she’d trip over the bottom. Still, she was determined, which meant I had to do something. I wasn’t ready to leave the stage. Not yet. I hadn’t finished what I had set out to do. “Well, um, it looks like Rosaline has returned-th, and she is pissed-eth,” I said as I raced behind Wes for cover.

  Rosaline was Romeo’s ex, and if I had my way, Amanda would soon be Wes’s.

  “I am Juliet,” Amanda spat as she stood in front of Wes, trying to figure out how to get to me.

  “What’s in a name?” I said. I was pretty sure that was a line from the original scene. “Doff thy name.”

  “Emily,” she said. “I’m serious. Get out of here.”

  “I will, I promise. I just have a little more to read. Just let me get it out, and I’ll go. I’ll never bother you again.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she growled. “You locked me in the dressing room and stole my clothes. I had to climb out the window, and now you want me to let you finish?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  She didn’t appreciate my humor. “You are so dead.”

  This wasn’t good. “It appear-eth that she’s gone mad-eth, huh, Romeo? Get thee to a nunnery,” I proclaimed.

  “Wrong play. That’s Hamlet,” Amanda said, and lunged to the right. I moved at the same time. Now I was in front of Wes and she was behind him, but I could tell she was ready to pounce again.

  Wes hadn’t said a word. I think he might have been in a slight state of shock. His eyes were open crazy wide, like when you’re watching a TV show and your favorite character gets offed out of nowhere. It was that kind of OMG stunned. Not that I could blame him. Wes was basically serving as a shield as the Pepto-Bismol Princess tried to take down his jilted Juliet—all while eighties music played in the background. I had been too busy dodging Amanda to turn it off.

  “I can’t believe you did this to me,” she yelled, and this time moved to the left.

  I was ready for her. I started running. “It wasn’t to you. It wasn’t even about you. It was about me.”

  “Exactly,” Amanda said, and reached out to grab me. I just got away. “You didn’t think about anyone but yourse
lf. This was supposed to be my moment.”

  I wanted to point out that that was just as selfish, but it didn’t seem like the right time.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I needed something big. A grand gesture.”

  Wes’s eyebrows scrunched together ever so slightly. “That’s what this is about?” he asked.

  I nodded, and in that one second pause, Amanda managed to grab my arm. “It’s time for you to say good-bye-eth,” she said, and pulled me toward stage right.

  But I wasn’t ready. I needed to see what Wes thought. I pulled away and ran back to him. Amanda was right on my tail. She lunged. She hit her target, and we both tumbled to the ground.

  “Enough,” a voice called out. It was Mrs. Heller. I was kind of surprised it took her this long to stop me. Jill had done a good job stalling her. Although Mrs. Heller was probably just as stunned watching this train wreck as the rest of the audience. She had probably been frozen in disbelief. “Emily,” she said, “get over here now.”

  I knew I was facing detention, suspension, or even worse. And buckets full of humiliation. But I came too far to not finish what I started.

  A grand gesture was supposed to be grand. Not a cop-out. Not stop when you get scared.

  I wasn’t going to turn into a “what if” story. It was time to risk it all.

  I ignored my teacher. I ignored Amanda. I ignored the crowd. I ignored everyone but my Romeo.

  I pushed Amanda off me and stood up. Wes was just watching me. He wasn’t frowning or smiling or anything. This was it. I pulled out my paper and read my last line. “I did this grand gesture-eth for you and the school to see, because you’ve always been-eth the one for me.”

  Please let this have worked. “Wes,” I said, dropping my silly rhymes and my Shakespeare accent. “It’s—”