Finally, Noah pronounced the last line of the play: “’Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.”
Silence. Then a half-hearted slow clap. Even from backstage, I could tell that Nevin wasn’t pleased with our run. We straggled slowly onstage, the collective dread at Nevin’s reaction palpable.
“Actors.” Nevin stroked his goatee pensively, clutching a clipboard to his chest with his other hand. “I know we’re all feeling a little stiff in our new costumes, but let’s try to bring this to life, shall we?” Nope. Nevin was not pleased. “Drew, Cass, where is the heat?” As he posed this question to the heavens, I wasn’t sure if it was rhetorical or not. To be on the safe side, I decided not to answer. “I feel the heat when you’re fighting, but I need to feel it while you’re loving.” Someone—I think it was Rhys—giggled. Nevin pressed on, undeterred. “Bring me the passion! The romanza! Make it fiery!”
Fiery. Shocking that it looked easy to hate Drew, but not to love him. I could have told Nevin that on day one. But for the sake of the play, I vowed to dredge up whatever romanza lurked deep in my cynical soul. Not that I had any hopes that Drew would do the same. Except … I’m supposed to be writing about Kate, not Cass danced across my brain. No! I needed to forget what I’d seen in that notebook. I wanted to go back to a world where I was one hundred percent confident that the only thing Drew felt for me was hatred. After a few more notes, Nevin dismissed us for lunch. We changed out of our costumes quickly—heaven forbid we get so much as a crumb anywhere on our brocade-tastic ensembles.
“I can’t believe we’ve only got one more run before the show opens,” Amy murmured, breaking the silence as the cast walked to the Bait ’n’ Bite. “My parents have already started the drive up to see it. This has gone by so fast. It’s crazy.”
“Totally,” I agreed. I couldn’t believe we’d be doing this show in front of actual people tomorrow. I wondered how many would be there. I knew we were only the apprentice company, but all the pictures on the Shakespeare at Dunmore website boasted pretty full audiences. People who didn’t know me or anyone in the cast would be coming out here, paying to see me act, for the first time ever. I wasn’t in a school play anymore. This was real theater. Something flipped over in my stomach as the reality of it all hit me.
“We’re in fine shape,” Heidi said, putting a positive spin on things, as always. “That run was just a little …”
“Flat,” Drew said. Flatly.
“It was fine,” I retorted. It hadn’t been our best run ever, but there was no reason to be all negative about it. That wouldn’t help anything. “We just had a lot to adjust to.”
“Costumes, boots, props,” Noah listed.
“And now I have to stare at Seneca Crane all show. Talk about an adjustment,” I added.
“I do not look like Seneca Crane!” Drew protested, rubbing his jaw with concern.
Drew’s facial hair looked fine—much better than when he’d been a crazy lumberjack, actually—but he didn’t need to know that. I flounced into the Bait ’n’ Bite to get a sandwich.
The less-than-perfect run that morning had left everyone a little subdued. After a hurried lunch, we grimly laced each other back into our corsets and costumes, like warriors preparing for battle.
“Drew, it’s time,” Nevin announced once we’d arrived at the stage. “Get out the swords.”
“Swords!” Rhys squawked. “The run wasn’t that bad.”
“Now? You want them now?” Drew’s voice dripped with incredulity.
“Yes, now,” Nevin commanded. “The moment has come.”
“When Lola asked me to bring the swords, this was not what I anticipated. Why do you want them the day before we open? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not—”
“SWORDS!”
Heaving an almighty sigh, Drew retreated to the back of the field where all our bags were jumbled in a pile.
“Drew has swords?” Heidi raised an eyebrow as we watched Drew march back with his baseball bag slung over his shoulder.
“It’s a stage combat thing,” I said.
“Huh.” Amy wrinkled her nose, staring at Drew like she’d never seen him before. “That’s … interesting.”
Carefully, Drew lay the bag at the edge of the stage.
“Act 2, scene 1,” Nevin barked. “But with swords.”
“What do you mean, ‘with swords’?” I asked.
“I mean, hit him on each line.”
“Okay!” I agreed readily.
“That’s not safe,” Drew interjected. Probably because he was afraid of my expert poking skills. “You can’t have a fight onstage that’s not choreographed. Even just as part of an exercise. It’s not safe.”
“I don’t want you to be choreographed, I want you to feel! Stop making the safe choice!”
Nevin seemed on the verge of a full nervous breakdown. I looked nervously over at Drew.
“Directors,” he muttered under his breath. “Lola’s even more insane than I thought for leaving our entire production in the hands of that lunatic. Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed the back of my bodice and started pulling me onto the stage.
“I’m not a kitten!” I protested, disentangling myself as I hopped up on the platform. “You can’t drag me around by the scruff of my neck.”
“True. Kittens are way too cute and fuzzy.”
“Say that again once I’ve got a rapier in my hands.”
“I’m not letting you attack me, you maniac.” Drew turned to face me.
“But Nevin—”
“But Nevin nothing. You remember enough of the moves to commit to a routine?”
I nodded. The rest of the cast was watching us curiously from the grass. Drew spoke low and fast into my ear, careful not to let them overhear. I jumped as he leaned in, suddenly self-conscious about standing so close to him.
“Attack three, parry five, bind down to the ground. Then you parry three, attack five, bind down to the ground other side. Slash at my abdomen and I’ll jump back. Attack one, parry two, and I’ll croise. Then parry one, attack two, and you’ll croise. Then slash at my head, and I’ll duck. Make sure you signal that head slash with your elbow and make it obvious. Got that?”
“Got it.” I wasn’t quite as confident as I sounded. My mind was racing, trying to remember all the different positions. Three was by the bicep, five over the head, two by the hip. I could do this. I could totally do this.
“If you put one foot out of line,” Drew glowered, “so help me—”
“I said I got it, okay?” I interrupted. “Stop yapping and start fighting.”
“I’m not kidding about that obvious elbow.” Drew tossed me a rapier. I caught it nimbly by the handle. “If you decapitate me the day before opening night I will be seriously pissed.”
“I might prefer to act opposite a headless corpse, actually.” I swished my rapier through the air. “It would certainly improve the kissing scenes.”
“You’ll pay for that.” Drew settled into ready position. “En garde!”
I assumed a ready position of my own: wide stance, knees bent, sword arm out at the ready. Hopefully my skirts wouldn’t get too tangled.
“I should be hearing Shakespeare’s words, not Drew’s and Cass’s!” Nevin reminded us.
Drew rolled his eyes and adjusted his stance.
“Ready?”
“Born ready,” I replied.
“Good morrow, Kate,” he began, swishing his sword with a flourish, “for that’s your name, I hear.”
Show time. I took a deep breath.
“Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing.” Clang! I brought my rapier down in attack on position 3 then before I knew it I was parrying and by the time Drew said, “You lie, in faith,” the bind had successfully landed on the ground.
We went through the routine twice to make it last the length of the scene and, shockingly, I didn’t step one toe out of line. I even made sure to include the world’s most obvious elbow signal to avoid
any errant decapitation. The whole thing flowed seamlessly like we’d been rehearsing it for weeks. I only wished we could always have swords in this scene, as opposed to one measly hand slap.
“Never make denial,” Drew panted, as we stood blade’s length away from each other. I struggled for breath, forced to take shallow gasps in my stupid corset. “I must and will have Katharina to my wife.”
“YES!” Nevin roared as the rest of the cast cheered. “There’s the heat I was looking for! The fire! The passion! That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Can we run the show now?” Abruptly, Drew broke eye contact and the loss was so startling I staggered back a few feet. I’d been so used to keeping my eyes locked on his during the fight scene it felt out of place to look away. Although most likely I was just lightheaded from forced aerobic exercise in that stupid corset.
“Of course, of course!” Nevin chortled, suddenly all benevolence. “Drew, sheath your weapons. Actors, to the stage!”
“Um, when did you learn how to sword fight?” Amy asked, looping her arm through mine as we headed backstage.
“Oh. Uh, drama club.” It felt wrong lying to Amy, but it would have felt much worse explaining where I’d really learned how to sword fight. I knew I hadn’t done anything bad by fighting in the woods with Drew. I just couldn’t figure out a way to explain it that didn’t sound kind of … sketchy. Which, of course, only made me feel sketchier.
“Amazing. You were such a badass up there!” she squealed. Luckily, Amy didn’t seem to notice the squirmy somersaults of sketchiness my stomach was performing. “I can’t believe you didn’t get tangled up in your skirts. I totally would have face-planted.”
“I think the not-face-planting thing was mostly luck.” I picked the length of rope off the prop table and started binding her hands together for our first entrance.
“And ohh emm geee, could someone have looked sexier with a sword?” she whispered. “Seriously, I was, like, dying. At first, I thought the whole sword fighting thing was going to be kind of nerdy and lame, but it was so not. It was like ridonkulous sexy fairy tale prince. He makes that guy in Once Upon a Time look like a total reject. I totally wouldn’t mind unsheathing his sword, if you know what I mean. Ouch!”
“Sorry!” I apologized. “Didn’t mean to tie that so tight.”
“Yeesh, Cass. Careful.” She maneuvered her hands, trying to rub her wrists. “I’ve only got a scene to get out of this.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered. I had no idea what had come over me. Overzealous knot tying wasn’t usually a problem I had.
“No biggie.” Amy shrugged cheerfully. “Show time!”
Thankfully, after our earlier attempt, the final dress rehearsal went much smoother. Everyone was giving it their all, and the play flew by. Maybe the sword fight really had helped, or maybe everyone had been scared by the earlier bad run. Probably it was just one of those unknowable mysteries of theater. Whatever it was, before I knew it, we had made it to the final scene. I took center stage to give my “women are so simple” speech, and much to my surprise, I actually enjoyed it. Imbuing each word with the most over-the-top sarcasm I could muster certainly made it enjoyable—for me, at least. I ended my final line in an elaborate curtsy at Drew’s—er, Petruchio’s—feet, my red brocade skirts fanned out in a perfect circle around me.
“Why there’s a wench!” Drew cheered, extending a hand to pull me up to my feet. We stood as face-to-face as it was possible while still keeping most of our faces toward the audience. I couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled, like he knew some wonderful secret. I was pretty sure the secret was that he just really enjoyed calling me a wench. “Come on, and kiss me, Kate.”
A stage kiss is about as romantic as a fist bump. It’s just that you’re touching lips instead of knuckles. By this point in my life I’d been kissed onstage by at least a dozen more people than I’d been kissed by offstage. Just another day at the office, as it were. Come to think of it, since we’d been up here, I’d probably kissed Drew like twenty times, and it was so asexual I didn’t even register revulsion. It felt like just another piece of blocking. But this time, something was different.
I leaned in for our perfunctory lip bump, but Drew encircled my waist with his arm and pulled me up against his chest, extinguishing the space between us. His other hand wound its way through the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my head back as he leaned down and his lips met mine. I melted into him, my arms snaking involuntarily around his neck as our mouths opened, deepening the kiss. It was like the world melted away, and there was nothing but me, and Drew, and this kiss. My knees turned to jelly, and I was positive I would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Drew’s strong arms keeping me together. Kissing Taylor had been fun, but this … this was a revelation.
“But a harsh hearing when women are forward!”
We sprang apart as Noah shouted his line. My heart was hammering in my chest. I felt like it was about to shoot straight out of my corset.
“Sorry, y’all,” Noah apologized sotto voce. “Didn’t mean to burst your eardrums. But I’d said my line three times.”
He had? I hadn’t heard anything. A fighter jet could have taken off next to me and I probably would have missed it.
“Right.” Drew cleared his throat. “Right, right.” Drew coughed again, turning red. “Come, Kate, we’ll to bed!” he boomed out at full volume, blushing redder still. “We three are married, but you two are sped.”
Drew grabbed my arm, as he was directed to, and power-walked me offstage. As soon as I was deposited safely behind the curtain he sped away from me, never once meeting my eyes.
“Cass!” Amy squealed, squeezing my arm. I jumped—I hadn’t noticed her backstage. “Oh, my God. Cass. Oh, my God. That was incredible! We are going to crush opening night. This play is, like, seriously good.”
“Seriously good,” I repeated dumbly, bringing my free hand to touch my lips. It felt like they were still buzzing.
“It’s amazing. You’d never be able to tell how much you two hate each other offstage. The chemistry is bananas. It looks really real. So weird, right?”
“So weird,” I agreed fervently. What the hell had just happened? I’d been stage kissed enough times to know that was no stage kiss. That was a real kiss that had just happened to take place on a stage. Or maybe Drew was just a really good actor. Like a totally Daniel Day Lewis method acting phenomenon. Putting Nevin’s notes into practice, trying to make it all passionate and stuff. Except … no. Not possible. I couldn’t have been the only one who felt that. That had felt real. Disturbingly so.
“’Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.” And with that, Noah finished our final dress rehearsal.
“Brava!” Nevin cheered from the audience. I could hear him and Langley clapping, an enthusiastic, if paltry, audience of two. Dress rehearsal was finished, and Lola hadn’t shown up once the entire rehearsal process. She must have had a lot of faith in Nevin. And us. “Actors to stage!”
Amy and I walked back onstage, as the rest of the cast ambled up to center stage. “That was exactly what I was looking for! Except next time, Drew, please pick up your cue.”
“Right. Of course,” Drew mumbled.
I was thrilled that the show was in good shape and excited to open tomorrow night, but it was hard to focus on Nevin’s notes. I had to keep reminding myself not to stare at Drew. Not that it mattered, as he was studiously ignoring me. It was like I was boring holes in the back of his head with my gaze. That kiss had been real. I knew it. Onstage or off, I’d never been kissed like that before.
Amy squeezed my arm at something Nevin had said that I’d missed. Amy! Crap, what was I doing? I’d kissed the guy she liked. That violated every tenet of girl code—everything I stood for! I hoped there was some kind of stage kissing exception clause. I hadn’t kissed Drew, I’d kissed Petruchio. But then why did I feel so shitty?
Besides, I liked Taylor. Taylor, who was a perfect combination
of blindingly hot and unbelievably cool, and who had, for some reason, chosen me. Sure, the female population of Dunmore, Vermont, was somewhat limited, but that didn’t make me feel any less special. Taylor was perfect for me. We could have an awesome summer fling with no messy attachments or entanglements or any kind of feelings where someone might get hurt. And that was all I really wanted … wasn’t it?
After numerous exhortations to relax and get lots of rest before the show opened tomorrow, Nevin dismissed us. Everyone chattered excitedly as we walked home, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. Drew was also uncharacteristically silent.
“Love note!” Amy squeaked as the boathouse came into view and ran full force to the door. I was shocked she could see anything from that distance. Maybe she had extra special love note powers. She pulled a small white square of paper off the screen door. “Ohhhh emmmmmmm geeeeeeeee,” she sighed, eyes rapidly scanning the note, as the rest of us caught up with her.
“What does it say?” Drew asked. “Please regale us with the further misadventures in spelling of Cass’s illiterate lothario.”
I glared at him. Not that it mattered, because he still wouldn’t look at me.
“Nope. Girl business.” Amy folded the note closed and tucked it safely down her shirt into her bra. “Ladies, to the girl cave.”
Amy started sprinting inside and up the stairs, Heidi and I following as close behind her as humanly possible.
“What the hell does that note say?” I demanded the minute we got to our room, slamming the door behind us. The bunk bed rattled in response.
“Voila!” Amy unfolded the note, and we leaned over her shoulder to read:
Red! Party 2nite. Then later …
U + me
Special nite <3
I exhaled a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Clearly, Taylor wasn’t mad at me if he’d sent me a note! He wanted to see me. Tonight.
“Tonight? Nope. Not going to happen,” Heidi said decisively. “He’ll just have to wait.”
The Taming of the Drew Page 18