St Mary's Academy Series Box Set 1

by Seven Steps

  I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Kissing?”

  “Yeah. I mean, Hermia and Lysander are lovers, right? They kiss each other like a million times.”

  “I know the play,” I said, much too quickly.

  Why didn’t I realize that Lysander and Hermia made out for half the book? I knew they were lovers, but I hadn’t thought about the kissing until this exact moment. Had my mind chosen to block that part out?

  I cleared my throat. “Look, I’m not the one to worry about. Maybe you should worry about controlling yourself.”

  “Controlling myself?”

  “Yes. You.”

  His expression quickly soured. “I seem to remember that the last time we kissed, it was you who initiated it.”

  My confidence turned to anger. “That’s irrelevant.”

  “It’s very relevant.”

  “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “And you made sure of that, now, didn’t you?”

  My cheeks shook with rage. “You’re being a jerk! Besides, that happened a year ago. Get over it.”

  “Me get over it? You’re the one who has a full-blown panic attack whenever I come near you.”

  My chest grew painfully tight. “That’s not true.”

  “Oh yeah? So why are your hands shaking?”

  I jammed my hands into my pockets.

  “They’re not.”

  It was a dumb lie, since we’d both seen them.

  He snorted. “You’re lying so much you don’t even know what the truth is anymore. But I should have expected that from you, given our history.”

  I huffed. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.”

  “Then go. Run away. That’s what you’re good at, right? You ran a year ago and word on the street is that you’re running from the play too.”

  “You don’t know anything.”

  “Maybe I don’t. But I have a feeling that I do. Is that what your little scene was today? Just you queuing up for your big exit?”

  I sputtered. “I was tired!”

  “You were faking and everybody knows it.”

  I seethed. “Why are you even here?” I demanded. “You said you wouldn’t start school until senior year.”

  He grinned. “Mr. Mann said I could join some electives and get a head start on my credits. Who was I to say no?”

  “I wish you had.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He gave me one final glare and started to walk away. Then, he stopped and turned again. “You know what, Sophia. Maybe this play isn’t for you. Maybe you should quit, like you do with everything else. All you’d have to do is what you do best. Run.”

  My anger exploded. I was so furious that all I could do was stare as he walked away from me.

  That was it.

  Forget my plan to see Wolowitz tonight. I wouldn’t give Joe the satisfaction of seeing me quit.

  I was going to prove that Joe, and everyone else, was wrong about me. Tomorrow, I was going to come back to this auditorium, and I was going to own that lead role.

  One way or another.

  8

  After my blowout with Joe, my mood went into a downward spiral. Not even one of Purity’s chocolate bars, which she kept in her bookbag for emergencies, could comfort me.

  How could Joe say those things about me? I was not a quitter or a runner. He’d only known me for an hour, and he judged my entire life based on that one incident. It was totally unfair. The Joe I remembered would never treat me that way. Or maybe he wasn’t the Joe I remembered? Maybe he was never that Joe at all?

  I walked into my apartment at nearly six o’clock. I’d texted my mom this morning and said I had mandatory community service at the local soup kitchen, and that it’d continue until June.

  It was a lie, of course, but a necessary one. Mom would never allow me to be in a school play. There were too many of what she called ‘bad associates.’ Mom was very strict about who I hung out with. It’d taken months for her to allow me to have my friends over, and that was only after meeting their parents at a parent teacher conference.

  “Ma, I’m home,” I yelled.

  The sound of laughter came from the living room. Laughter? Who could Mom be laughing with? At first, I thought it was the television, but Mom didn’t believe in watching television. If anything, it was the radio, but this laughter didn’t sound like the news or gospel music. What could it be?

  “We’re in the living room, honey,” she called back.

  We? Who was we? Mom didn’t have any friends that I knew of. Maybe that’s why she was so keen on making sure I didn’t have any either.

  I dropped my bookbag by the front door, then peeked into the living room.

  I saw the back of her head first, her long, thick black hair controlled into its usual elegant French roll.

  Next to her was a familiar face.

  I screamed.

  Quincey!

  Was it really him?

  My disbelief melted into joy as my cousin ran to me, lifted me up, and swung me around in a big circle.

  Quincey and I texted and called each other every week but seeing him face-to-face gave me a peace and joy that was next to indescribable.

  “When did you get here?” I cried.

  He set me down on the floor, a huge grin on his face. “Just now,” he said. “We got out early for spring break. I figured I would see my favorite cousin.”

  I turned to my mom.

  “You knew he was coming?”

  She nodded as a big smile settled on her face.

  So that’s why she’s been in such a good mood lately. Because her favorite, and only, nephew was coming to visit.

  I grinned and turned back to Quincey. He looked different than when I’d seen him last year. More mature.

  His dark hair was cut low with perfectly shaped edges. He’d gotten new glasses and the bout of acne he’d struggled with had cleared up. But he had the same brown eyes, and the same smile. Even Duke University couldn’t change that.

  “Tell her the rest of it,” Mom said. She turned to me. “Quincey is going to finish his courses online and then go back for the fall session. He’s going to be here until September.”

  “Really?” I gasped.

  He nodded. “Really.”

  “This is amazing. I’m so glad you’re here! We have so much to talk about!” I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into my room. “Oh yeah. And I have to kill you.”

  He chuckled. “What? Why?”

  “And where are you two going?” Mom asked. I could tell she was annoyed that I was stealing Quincey away so soon, but I didn’t care. I needed to talk to him about a certain recent visitor.

  “We’ll be right back, Aunt Pam,” Quincey called over his shoulder.

  When we reached my room, I closed the door and turned to him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I asked. I figured I’d start my interrogation sooner rather than later.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” Quincey said.

  “I’m definitely surprised. It sucks our spring breaks don’t match up, though. I’ll barely see you until summer with school and the pl—uh, I mean volunteering.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll see you at night and on the weekend. Plus, Aunt Pam said she’d show me the big city.”

  I raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Mom’s going to show you around New York City? Yeah, right. All she does is go to church, talk about Dad, and yell at me.”

  “So, nothing’s changed then,” he said with a smile. “Except you.” He looked me up and down. “You look like you’ve grown up. You’re a far cry from that girl I snuck into prom last summer.”

  “Yeah, well, speaking of prom, were you going to tell me that Joe was coming, or was that part of your surprise too?”

  His smile faded into a guilty frown.

  Anger welled up within me. “Wow, Quincey. So much for family sticking together.”

  Quincey put his hands up. “Whoa. I didn’t
think it mattered. You two are over each other, remember? At least, that what you two keep telling me.”

  Quincey and I had talked about Joe several times. It was mostly him asking me if I thought it would’ve worked out between us and me telling him it wouldn’t have.

  It was the truth.

  Mom would never allow me to have a boyfriend. It was one thing to sneak around school or out the house after she’d gone to bed, but to have a boyfriend all the way in Trouble, Texas, that I’d never see would be too much. As it was, I had to carry around two phones. Purity had put me on her and Eric’s plan when she found out that my mom monitored my phone. Plus, I had separate email accounts. One for my mom, and one for everyone else. Joe and I would have never worked under these conditions.

  “We are over each other,” I said.

  “So, what does it matter if he’s here or not?”

  “Because… because it just does. You couldn’t even give me a heads-up? I thought you had my back.”

  He grimaced. “I do have your back, Soph. You know that.”

  “Well…” I crossed my arms and pouted. “It would have been nice to know,” I said.

  He waved my comment away. “You’ll be all right.”

  “No, I’m not all right. I’m mad at you.”

  “For what?”

  “Q, this is a big deal. He made me cry at the Spring Fling.”

  “Whoa. Joe made a girl cry? It’s usually the other way around. What did he do?”

  “He showed up!”

  Quincey chuckled. “If him showing up was enough to make you cry, then I think you have other problems.”

  I threw a pillow at him, and he blocked it.

  “You are impossible.”

  “Well, maybe I am. Goodness, you two are soo much alike.”

  “We’re not alike at all. I’m not a big meanie.” I walked over to Quincey and leaned my head on his shoulder, my anger subsiding a little. “I’m glad you’re here, though. Even if it’s just for half a year.”

  “Me too.”

  “I guess we’d better feed you before you starve to death.”

  “Yes! Let’s get some of that famous New York pizza you’re always raving about. Then you can tell me all about your good grades and amazing study habits.”

  “Ugh, you’ve been talking to Mama, haven’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You know what? Get out, traitor.” I opened the door and pretended to try to shove him out of it.

  “Wow, cuz. First you want me in, then you want me out. Is this how you treat all the boys here?”

  “No, because no boys come in here.”

  “Good. Boys are nothing but trouble anyway.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Mama again.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. I just don’t want to see my favorite cousin get caught up. Maybe when you’re thirty-five—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, when I’m thirty-five with two master’s degrees and running my own company, I can think about dating. I’ve heard it from Mama and I don’t need to hear it from you.”

  “Just looking out for you, cuz.”

  If he and Mom knew what I’d been up to, they’d never let me out of the house.

  I snarled, which made him chuckle.

  “Like I said. Traitor.” I gave him one final, and very real, push out the door and shut it behind him.

  Quincey was here.

  My favorite cousin.

  I’d given up boys just in time.

  The next day, I managed to fight my way onto the stage despite my heart feeling like it was going to pop out of my chest.

  My next scene was with both Charlotte—I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of calling her Char-latte, which was a ridiculous name, by the way—and Joe.

  I’d looked over my lines last night. Well, I’d tried to. But it was hard to study when I just wanted to hang out with Quincey. I’d helped him move the TV from the living room into his bedroom, and we played video games all night. I loved playing video games with Quincey, especially racing games.

  I stared at the page, trying to keep my tired eyes open.

  “I swear by thee, by Cupid’s strongest bow—”

  “We’re on page eight,” Joe said. “Georgia Rose.”

  My gut clenched at the mention of the fake name I’d given him last year, and I quickly scrambled to find the correct page.

  Crap, this was starting off on the wrong foot.

  Someone in the wings burst out laughing and my entire body went white hot with embarrassment. My mind called up the memories of the Spring Fling, but I forced them back down. I had embarrassed myself enough today. I didn’t need a second panic attack.

  I turned to the right page and began my line.

  “God speed fair, Helena,” I held my script so tight that my fingers hurt. “Weather away?”

  “Whither,” Joe said.

  I grimaced. “Whither away.”

  Joe stood close behind me. I could practically feel him breathing down my neck. It gave me goose bumps. But I shored up myself as best as I could. If he thought he’d see me crumble today, he was mistaken.

  “Call you me fair?” Charlotte asked, twisting her face into a troubled expression. “That fair again unsay…”

  She wasn’t even using her script. How did she memorize the lines so quickly? And not only memorize them but act them out too?

  Meanwhile, I was fumbling through my lines and nearly jumping out of my skin whenever Joe came within a foot of me.

  This was absolutely miserable.

  “Your line,” Joe said.

  Did Charlotte finish already? Crap.

  “Oh, teach me how you look—”

  “Wrong line,” Joe said. “And you’re Hermia, not Helena.”

  A few snickers sounded throughout the room, mostly from Charlotte’s two friends Sinopa and Victoria. They seemed to stand in the wings directly next to me whenever I was on stage just to laugh at me.

  I hoped they tripped down the stairs.

  “Oh, uh, sorry,” I stammered. “Uh… oh… I frowned upon him, yet he still loves me.”

  Charlotte gave me a smug, pitiful look, then continued with her lines.

  “O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill.”

  “I give him curses, yet he gives me love.”

  “O that my prayers could such affection move.”

  My fumbled lines glared next to her perfect ones. How did she do that? She was so comfortable on stage. I remembered when I was that comfortable.

  I continued on.

  “The more I hate, the more he follows me.”

  “The more I love, the more he hateth me.”

  “His folly, Hermia, is no fault of mine.”

  “Helena,” Joe said. “You are Hermia. Charlotte is Helena.”

  More snickering broke out in the wings.

  Mrs. Simpson sighed from the front row. “Sophia, I need more from you, dear. Let’s keep going.”

  We continued the scene, with me bumbling through the scenes, while Joe and Charlotte made me look like a rank amateur by correcting my wrong lines, correcting where I stood on stage, and generally making me look and feel stupid.

  The old Sophia would have killed this role.

  Who was this new weak girl I’d become?

  “And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius!” I said. “Keep word, Lysander. We must starve our sight from lover’s food til morrow deep night.”

  Joe’s eyes met mine, and I squinted, purposefully blurring my vision so I didn’t look directly into them. It was immature, I knew, but immaturity was one of the few things keeping me sane today.

  “I will, my Hermia,” Joe said. “And Helena, adieu. As you on him, Demetrius dote on you.” Then he exited stage left, allowing my lungs to unlock a little.

  “Joe, come back, please,” Mrs. Simpson said.

  Joe returned to the stage, and Mrs. Simpson sat forward in her seat.

  “You can’t just leave,” she
said. “This is the love of your life. You’ll need to hug her at the very least.”

  A hug? From Joe?

  My body tensed up.

  “Try to do that with all of your scenes. Remember that Lysander and Hermia are the exemplary couple here. They have to portray that through body language. Touches, hugs, kisses, just do what comes naturally to your characters. And Sophia, remember that you exit stage left after the hug. Now, try that again, from Lysander’s line.”

  It felt like the room had tilted.

  I’d successfully been avoiding even looking at Joe all day, and now I had to hug him?

  Why did it feel like the universe was playing a cruel, cruel joke on me?

  Joe turned to me, his gaze not meeting mine. “I will, my Hermia.”

  He stepped forward, wrapping me in a tight hug. His arms were strong. I felt his hard chest and biceps through his shirt. He smelled delicious. Like Irish spring soap. I wanted to take a deep breath, then I remembered it was Joe that was hugging me and stopped myself.

  I stepped back as soon as the hug was over and practically ran off the stage. My entire body was tingling. I found a wall and leaned against it, trying to keep my shaky knees from giving out.

  Joe walked past me a few seconds later, not looking in my direction.

  Good. I didn’t need any more looks from him. I just wanted to get through this play and get my extra credit without making an absolute fool of myself. Was that too much to ask?

  I had a few scenes before my next one, so once I got my legs under control, I went to sit in the audience with Purity.

  “You looked great up there,” she said.

  I frowned. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know it was awful.”

  “No, really. It wasn’t that bad. The hug was a little… awkward… but otherwise it was okay.”

  “Awkward?” Charlotte, along with Sinopa and Victoria slid into the chairs behind us. “That hug was even worse than her lines.”

  “She doesn’t even know her character’s name,” Victoria said. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Totally,” Sinopa added.

  Purity and I turned to them.

  “Don’t you three have a hairball you need to cough up?” I asked.

  Charlotte shrugged. “Better a cat than a skanky dog.”