“You know what I mean, Cass,” she said softly. “That passion. There’s something between you two. Something undeniable.”
“I think so, too,” I said in a small voice. Like barely audible small.
“I’m not gonna lie,” she said a bit more sharply. “It hurt, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Rejection sucks. It was like bombing an audition, but way more personal and painful.”
“I know.” I winced. I still hated myself for hurting her.
“I think I always knew there was something between the two of you. I could feel it. That’s why I wanted you to get together with Taylor so bad.”
“I wanted something to work with Taylor. I did, I seriously did,” I said fervently. “I just didn’t—”
“Love him,” Amy finished for me. “See? I knew I’d convert you into a romantic.”
Good God, did I love Drew? I hadn’t really considered that, but now that Amy said it … I’d fallen in love without even realizing it. And then completely insulted and alienated the object of my affections.
“Anyway, Cass, look.” She swished the heavy brocade curtain open just an inch. “The Prince of Norway is in the audience.” I looked out. I spotted Ragner, Ferret, and Thiago on the picnic table, but blessedly, Taylor Griffith was nowhere to be seen. “The hope for romance springs eternal. There might still be time for a final plot twist in act five.” She smiled wickedly.
“So this means we’re okay?”
“We’re okay,” she confirmed. “But if I catch you kissing the Prince of Norway, I’m going to pull a full shrew on you. Sleep deprivation, food deprivation, ruining all your clothes, the works.”
“Fair enough.” I held out my hand for her to shake. Instead, she pulled me into a tight hug. Boy, this was the most hugging I’d done in a long time. Being vulnerable really takes it out of a girl.
“Friends again!” I heard Heidi cry delightedly as she stretched her long arms around the two of us.
“Heidi!” Amy choked. “Your sleeve is strangling me!”
“Ooo, sorry!” Heidi hastily pulled away, and we all disentangled ourselves.
“Now, Heidi,” Amy said, “don’t you think it’s time that Little Miss Cynical gets her happy ending?”
“This seems like more of a happy beginning to me.” Heidi smiled. I could only hope she was right.
Drew stood alone, all the way at the edge of the stage left entrance. If he’d really been staring at me all morning, there was no way to tell now. His back looked like a solid, impenetrable wall. I walked over to him, praying that Shakespeare would inspire me. I had no idea what to say. I figured I should probably steal someone else’s work. I tugged on Drew’s sleeve, and he turned. The look on his face was not encouraging.
“Say that he frown,” I began timidly, “I’ll say he looks as clear as morning roses newly wash’d with dew.”
He didn’t say anything. But that actually worked kind of perfectly with the next bit I uttered.
“Say he be mute, and will not speak a word.” Something that looked like it might possibly have been the beginning of a smile tugged at the corner of Drew’s lips. “Then I’ll commend his volubility and say he uttereth piercing eloquence.”
“Pack,” he murmured.
“If he do bid me pack”—I grinned—“I’ll give him thanks, as though he bid me stay by him a week.”
“Those are my lines.”
“I know. I just thought Shakespeare might be able to help a girl out.” He looked willing to listen, at least. I took a deep breath. “Since coming to Shakespeare at Dunmore, I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Probably about a thousand. Ruining your clothes. Stealing your pillow. Trashing your food. Sneaking out of the house. Putting the whole show in jeopardy. Just to name a few. Pretty much just an endless series of idiotic behavior. But there are some things I did right, too. Things I don’t regret, not for a second. Things that weren’t mistakes at all. Like picking up a sword. And jumping into the lake naked with you. Every minute we’ve spent together, actually. And kissing you. That was about as opposite from a mistake as you could get. That was …”
“Perfect.”
“It was perfect.” I brightened. “I’m so sorry I said those awful things. I didn’t mean it, honestly. There were just other—factors—involved and … and friendships,” I struggled to explain without telling Drew about Amy’s crush. He might have figured it out on his own, but I didn’t want to embarrass her—even if she seemed over it.
Something in his face told me he might have understood what I was not saying. “I was so busy trying to protect someone else’s feelings that I trampled all over yours. And you are the last person whose feelings I want to trample. Initially, of course, I just wanted to trample you. Not just your feelings. Like trample you physically.” Now he looked confused. “I just mean we didn’t get off on the best foot. Which is my fault, really. I make awful snap judgments, and I have a terrible temper, and I think I’m right about everything and I’m usually wrong, and then I stomp all around being all wrong and bossy. Well, you know all that already. You’ve always called me on my bullshit. Oh, God, I’ve gotten way off track.” I took another deep breath, trying to collect myself. “Basically, I’m sorry. I wish I could take back what I said. The worst mistake I made this summer was hurting you.”
“I love her ten times more than e’er I did,” he murmured, his face softening.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” My heart sped up until it was rapidly outpacing a hummingbird’s pulse.
“I thought you knew all my lines.” He smirked.
“No, I know that one. I mean, um … I know it,” I finished lamely, still unsure if that was a declaration of real feelings or just a line reading.
“I love you, Cass.”
That was definitely not in the script.
“What?” I knew that was not the appropriate response, but I was just too shocked. At best, I had hoped he would accept my apology. I never, ever expected “I love you.” Drew tried to clasp me around my shoulders, but instead got two big fistfuls of red puffy sleeve.
“What is in these?” he marveled, patting my shoulders in wonder. “Are these stuffed with something? Bubble wrap? Oh, never mind. Your sleeves are not important right now.” Swiftly he moved his hands from my sleeves to circle my waist, and despite the heavy brocade and the stiff corset, I could feel the heat from his touch. “I’ve been falling in love with you onstage and off since we got here. And I can’t wait until the curtain goes up so I can fall in love with you all over again.”
“You … love me?”
“Unfortunately for me”—he grinned—“looks like it.”
“I’d really prefer it if you stopped using the word ‘unfortunate’ when describing your feelings for me.” Feelings. Could he really mean what he’d just said? “Can you even fall in love with someone in two weeks?” I whispered.
“Before this summer, I would have said no. But now …” He looked down at me, and I was struck by the question Lola St. Clair asked us on our first day—“Where does his love lie?” I could see it now, clear as day, shining in his hazel eyes. Warmth shot through me. “Well, Romeo and Juliet fell in love in a day.”
“That worked out really well for them.”
“Good God, woman!” he bellowed. “I’m pouring my heart out to you, and you’re just giving me shit!”
“Get used to it.” I smiled. “Because I think I might sort of kind of love you, too.”
“That’s an awful lot of qualifiers …” He rubbed his jaw contemplatively, acting like he was weighing his options. “But I’ll take it.”
I smiled so wide my cheeks ached. For the first time, I really understood what Shakespeare had written all his sonnets about. Drew would have crushed any darling buds of May—he was more of a rough wind than anything temperate—but to me, he was the best of any summer’s day. He was the warmth of a sunny field, the refreshing coolness of the lake, and even the sweet stickiness of a s’mor
e. Amy had been right that night that felt like a million years ago, when we all went skinny-dipping in the lake. This was the best summer ever. And so much of that was because of Drew. He leaned down to kiss me, and I clung to him tightly. I would never let him go.
“Save it!” someone shrieked. Rhys. He was standing right behind us. We sprang apart, but Drew held fast to my hand, keeping it in his.
“What, art thou ashamed of me?” Drew whispered. “Trying to leap away?”
“No, sir, God forbid!” I protested. “But ashamed to kiss. In front of Rhys.”
“That last part’s definitely not in the script, bonny Kate.”
“Save it for the stage, you animals!” Rhys scolded us. “Don’t waste all your chemistry back here! We’ve got paying customers! More importantly, my entire family is here including Great-Aunt Mona and I expect this show to deliver! Great-Aunt Mona is a beast! A positively terrifying beast!”
“Circle up!” I did a double take—I almost hadn’t recognized Langley as she made her way backstage. Her hair was now a soft, subdued brown. It may have been more Shakespearean, but I found I missed the electric blue. “We’ve got a pretty full house out there. Five minutes to curtain.”
Drew led me by the hand to the patch of grass backstage where everyone was congregating. Smiling, Amy took my other hand. Heidi fought valiantly through her sleeves, but eventually got her hands free enough to clasp Amy’s and Noah’s. We formed a circle, holding hands, all of our poofy brocade sleeves rubbing together.
Nevin appeared backstage, accompanied by the mysterious Lola St. Clair. Well, well, well. Look who’d finally decided to show up. It seemed like years had passed since the last time I’d seen her. Nevin and Lola took their places in the circle.
“My young friends,” Lola began, looking around the circle, making eye contact with each of us in turn. For once, Drew didn’t roll his eyes. Neither did I. “So much has happened since last I saw you, at the beginning of your journey. Strangers turned to friends. Hatred turned to love. Risks were taken, and rules were broken.” Amy squeezed my hand. “I speak, of course, of your time onstage.” The twinkle in Lola’s eye made me think she knew more than she let on. “Throw caution to the wind once more, my friends. Infuse each word with passion, each movement with life. Laugh at your fears and revel in your triumphs.”
Nevin cleared his throat. “I have only one thing to say: put it all out there.” He looked at us intensely. It was more of a glare than a look. “Leave it all behind up on that stage. All of it. Every last drop of what you’ve got. Return to me, in five acts’ time, a husk of a human.”
A husk of a human? I got what he was saying, but that wasn’t exactly inspirational.
“Let’s say ‘bold moves’ on three,” Amy suggested, exchanging glances with me and Heidi.
“An excellent suggestion, fair Bianca,” Lola approved. “One … two … three …”
“Bold moves!” the cast cheered quietly, careful not to disturb the audience.
“Places, everyone!” Langley announced. Immediately, backstage buzzed with excited energy as everyone moved toward their entrances, straightening skirts and smoothing jackets.
“Ready to fall in love with me?” Drew caught my wrist and spun me to face him.
“I’m ready to hate you,” I purred into his ear. “As for love … we’ll just see how act two goes.”
Drew threw back his head and laughed. I loved his laugh, the way it was more like a roar than any laugh I’d ever heard, the way his hazel eyes danced mischievously. How could I ever have hated someone who laughed so wholeheartedly?
“Challenge accepted, sweet shrew.” He kissed me quickly. “Bring me your worst.”
“Nothing but the best of my worst for you, sirrah.” I kissed him again.
“Did you not hear ‘places’?” Langley reminded us. Loudly.
“Sorry!” I picked up my skirts, grabbed the rope off the prop table, and ran to join Amy stage right. I waved at Drew as he walked stage left.
“It’s happening,” Amy whispered, squeezing my hand with excitement as best she could as I tied her wrists together. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? This moment right before.”
“It’s the best feeling in the world,” I agreed. Well, maybe second to kissing Drew. The audience chatter gradually died down, and then, after a moment of perfect silence and stillness, the play began.
The show had never been better. The dialogue was alive, crackling in the warm summer air. The audience laughed in all the right places, more than I’d ever expected they would. Magically, none of the boys slid around in their slippery boots, and Heidi navigated her sleeves with panache. I railed at Drew, shouting and scolding, but by the time act five rolled around, Petruchio had won Kate over, just as surely as Drew had won me.
“Come on and kiss me, Cass,” Drew coaxed, in the full, rich timbre of his stage voice, drawing me into his arms, the love in his voice palpable. I heard a soft but audible thump as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nevin fall off his chair.
“They call me Katherine that do speak of me,” I whispered, conscious of the eyes of the audience. “You said the wrong name.”
“I know what I said,” he whispered. “Kiss me, Cass.”
And so I did.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my amazing agent Molly Ker Hawn and everyone at the Bent Agency. Molly, I could write a whole second book just full of acknowledgments about how awesome you are.
Thank you to expert editor Julie Matysik and the whole team at Sky Pony Press. Your thoughtful edits have made this book what it is. Thank you to all the Skyponies at Team Rogue YA for your social media support and awesome ARCs!
Thank you to Max, for reading Drew’s lines out loud when necessary, for your many thoughtful reads, and for always celebrating my successes. I love you.
Thank you to Dad and Mom, for everything but especially for answering the phone every time I walk the dog. Thanks to Ali for your constant efforts to grow my KIPP readership.
Thank you to Caitlin, a best friend and a wonderful editor, and to Evie and Lauren for your first reads and helpful notes.
A huge thank-you to all the wonderful friends I met doing three seasons of outdoor summer Shakespeare. Thank you for the s’mores, the stolen firewood, and the songs on the guitar—even “The Good Ol’ Hockey Game.” We know that everything that really happened is way too unbelievable to be included in a book.
Finally, thanks to the good people of Jugtown for the many, many peanut butter squares.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stephanie Kate Strohm lives in Chicago with her boyfriend and a small white dog named Lorelei Lee. A former Connecticut Yankee, she is a proud alumna of Middlebury College in Vermont. She is also the author of Pilgrims Don’t Wear Pink and Confederates Don’t Wear Couture. Visit her online at www.stephaniekatestrohm.com.
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