Happy birthday, Shadow! And may next year be better than this one!
I'm sorry I'm so bad at writing fluff but I tried...this thing literally has no plot it's just a fluff-dump and Raivis trying to be angsty and me (and Perri, and Toris) not letting him.
I feel like Perri is a bit OOC but I think it works, kinda...? Considering neither of us has ever written not-lonely Perri before.
Anyway. Happy birthday, and read Much Ado you will not regret it.
Title taken from the play/comedy sketch "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)".
ACT I
The first time I saw her, she was standing on a table in the lunchroom, reciting the Saint Crispin's Day speech from Henry V. She was doing a good job of it, too, and everyone at the table was cheering and clapping. Everyone else was ignoring her completely, although I saw a few odd glances before people decided to just mind their own business.
"Drama students," my brother diagnosed. He scooped another forkful of salad into his mouth and stood up. "I'm going to the library to do some programming. See you later."
I sighed and went back to watching the theater kids. The brunette had sat down and was laughing next to a couple of blond girls. She looked comfortable at that table, surrounded by friends. When you're a freshman, and one of your brothers is on the basketball team and the other in choir, neither of which you are interested in, it's hard to get to know people. Eduard sat next to me at lunch sometimes, but we were both concentrating more on our food than on conversation, so I might as well have been by myself.
But it was okay. I didn't mind being alone.
Really.
After school, I meandered over to the auxiliary gym. Eduard was already sitting on a bench, doing homework.
"It's your turn to vacuum when we get home," I told him. He cupped a hand around his ear.
"What?" he shouted. "I can't hear you!"
"I said, it's your turn to— oh, never mind." I plumped down next to him and took my notebook out. With people yelling and shoes squeaking and the echoey acoustics of the gym, I could barely hear myself.
I had almost all of my homework done by the time basketball practice was over — the only thing left was an essay to be typed on the computer. It was just past six; my stomach rumbled.
"You're a cheater, Laurinaitis!"
My brother was laughing as he made his way over to us, Alfred clinging onto his shoulders with a petulant frown.
"How is it 'cheating' to be better than you?" He threw his jacket on over a sweat-soaked t-shirt. "Sorry I'm late, you guys, Al popped a ball and we had to get a new one."
"I told you, it wasn't me."
"And the sky is green, right, keep talking and maybe one day I'll believe you." Toris rolled his eyes.
"I'm serious! Didn't you see how guilty Feliks looked—"
"Feliks was smirking like he always does, Al, and I've told you—"
They bickered good-naturedly while Ed and I packed up our stuff, Toris swinging his car keys absently around his fingers. I loved my brother, but sometimes a pang of envy would jolt through me, because Toris was everything I was not. Calm, confident, self-assured. He was a senior that year; he fit in his own skin, knew how to talk to people. I didn't resent him, exactly. But sometimes I wished he would have a hard time with something, instead of being as disgustingly lucky and likable as I wasn't.
(Also he was the only one of us with a car. Being completely dependent on him for rides did not help the envy at all.)
The October air was crisp and brittle, biting through my jacket and raising goosebumps on Toris's bare legs. He laughed and said something about switching to track pants. Alfred, still trotting beside him, replied indignantly but I wasn't listening; Eduard had darted in front of me and was sprinting to the car — ostensibly to get out of the cold, but I knew he was really just trying to steal shotgun. Even though it was Tuesday and my turn.
How dare he.
I ended up in my rightful place after a short scuffle and a bit of hair-pulling, while Ed climbed sulkily into the back of Toris's tiny grey Fiat (fourth- or fifth-hand, and so old it had a stick shift and a cassette player), adjusted his glasses, and stuck his face into a Terry Pratchett novel. I turned the heater on and settled back.
"You. Are. An. IDIOT!" came Toris's voice, startling me upright again. Apparently during my own fight I'd missed the bantering become an actual argument, because both Toris and Alfred had drawn and tight faces.
"What were you even thinking, Alfred? Children are not cats!"
Huh?
Alfred opened his mouth to retort, but Toris cut him off. "Don't. Don't even. Either both of you come or neither of you comes, you are not leaving a little girl alone in that big fancy house of yours while you play with your friends. Hurry and make up your mind." He turned decisively away from Alfred and slammed the driver's side door open. "'She'll be fine, she knows how to use the microwave,' honestly."
He shut the door and practically stomped on the clutch.
"Raivis, are you going out Friday night?"
"No." I peeked at his furrowed brow. "Is this about the party?"
"Yes. Alfred's parents will be out-of-town that night so he is going to bring his little sister with him when he comes over. Would you be okay with hanging out with her? Make sure she doesn't have to stay by herself all night?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
"Thanks." Toris smiled. It was broad and infectious, but tinged with concern. "Al can be pretty self-centered sometimes. I know he doesn't mean to ignore her but would it kill him to try?"
How can hurt from a distance give you such a clear vision
And the closest to you, almost nothing at all?
Would it be so hard to just notice your brother
The same way you refuse to let others fall?
The second time I saw Perri, it was at our front door. She was standing behind Alfred, scowling, clutching a manila folder to her chest. Toris, his hair tied back loosely with entire locks still clinging to his face, smiled warmly at her and had to shout over the noise the rest of the basketball team was making in the kitchen.
"I'm glad you could make it, Al!" Translation: I'm glad you came to your senses. "Let's get her taken care of before I show you in, okay?" Translation: Don't forget the entire reason I made you bring her. "I'm sure the guys will save something for you." Translation: I'm still mad at you and you frankly don't deserve food.
My brother is surprisingly well-versed in the art of passive-aggressive kindness.
"Perri, this is my brother Raivis." I nodded politely. Perri deigned to glance at me quickly, before returning her glare to her brother's back. "You can hang out with him in his room if you'd like, or you two can join the party in the kitchen. It's up to you."
Perri shrugged. "I brought stuff to work on. I don't like people anyway." It sounded like something that ought to be said shyly, but her voice was clear and her words enunciated, as if she was trying to project to the back wall of an auditorium.
Toris didn't even blink. "Then, Rai, show her upstairs please? And Perri, if you need anything or even just have a question, feel free to come down and ask me."
Perri shrugged again and stepped out from behind Alfred. "Okay," she said, and obviously didn't mean it. She didn't say a word to me as we made our way up the stairs, listening to bursts of loud laughter from below. Eduard poked his head out the door, saw us, nodded an absent hello to Perri, and told me that he would have his headphones in for the rest of the night and not to try to bother him because it would be pointless. He withdrew before I could answer, pulling his head back into his room like an over-sized turtle. The thought made me laugh. Perri looked at me like I was crazy.
I coughed awkwardly and gestured. "Uh... this is my room?"
"Is that a question?"
"...no."
She swept regally in, sat at my desk and opened the folder. "I was just going to do my homework. If that's okay."
"Uh, that's fine," I said doubtfully. She could have done it at home just as easily, surely? As if she could read my mind, Perri explained:
"Look, I do appreciate your brother being so nice. And he's right. I don't like it when Al leaves me alone because he's busy and can't be bothered." She flipped through neatly stapled sheaves of paper. "But I also don't like feeling like a tag-along. Or a charity case."
I nodded — a little weakly, maybe, because Perri groaned.
"Stop looking so pathetic and lost, I'm going to feel obligated to be nice to you now."
"Be a nice change," I muttered.
"What?"
"N-nothing."
She peered at me.
"Ah, crap," she grumbled. "You're lonely, aren't you?"
"I— What?"
With a heavy, world-weary sigh, Perri rose to her feet and strode over to me.
"Why don't we sit on your bed? It's easier to talk when I'm not craning my neck to look at you." Her gaze was flitting around the room, and landed on the carved wooden case at the foot of my bed. "Tell me about that thing. What's it for?"
"That's the case for my kokle..." I trailed off, floundering. Was she actually trying to start a conversation with me?
"What's a kokle?"
"It's kind of like a guitar, but not really... um, should I take it out and show you?"
She nodded, flipping her hair over her shoulder. It was the same deep chestnut as Toris's, although a good deal longer, and she was running her fingers through it absently, making the strands catch the light. I flipped the case open and hauled the instrument out, running a finger across the polished wood.
"Most of my family's Lithuanian, but my grandpa was from Latvia. This was his — he taught me how to play."
"It's really pretty."
I demonstrated a few chords, muting and unmuting unwanted strings. "I'm not very good, or I'd play something proper..."
There was a knock at my door, and Toris poked his head in. "Oh, good, you're not doing anything utterly scandalous. I brought some food up for you — Perri, do you like homemade root beer? I know Rai does..."
"Thanks," she said. I could feel myself blushing; Toris smirked at me as he handed me a cup.
"Yeah, thanks," I muttered.
"No problem. I'm glad you're getting along. Introducing people is always kind of hit-or-miss." He winked at me before he left.
He knew? He did this deliberately?
Suddenly I felt a lot more charitable toward my brother.
Perri still had homework, although she didn't remember until halfway through the evening, and darted over to the manila folder she'd brought.
"I need to practice my monologue, would you check my lines for me?"
"Wha— huh? Yeah..."
She stood again, smoothed her blouse, and then her posture changed subtly. She looked taller, almost queenly, her head raised arrogantly.
"Women of Corinth, I would not have you censure me,
So I have come. Many, I know, are proud at heart,
Indoors or out; but others are ill spoken of
As supercilious, just because their ways are... quiet."
She was Medea, for a moment, standing in my bedroom with a hand tipped to the ceiling.
"There is no justice in the world's censorious eyes.
They will not wait to learn a man's true character;
Though no wrong has been done them, one look—
and they hate.
Of course a stranger must conform; even a Greek
Should not annoy his fellows by —"
She stopped.
"Uh..."
The illusion broke. I almost reeled back with the suddenness of it.
She stood for almost a minute, her mouth working frantically; finally she sighed and made a beckoning motion with her hand.
"'Crass stubbornness'," I prompted.
"Annoy his fellows by crass stubbornness. Right. Where am I in the blocking?"
I had to go up several lines before I found a note scribbled in pencil along the margin. "Uh... 'stage right'?"
Perri made a little hop sideways and straightened again.
"There is no justice in the world's censorious eyes.
They will not wait to learn a man's true character;
Though no wrong has been done them, one look— and they hate.
Of course a stranger must conform; even a Greek
Should not annoy his fellows by crass stubbornness."
She ran it three times, a petite tyrant in jeans and an invisible crown, voice strong and silky, doing her best to convince me to turn a blind eye to her revenge against the man who had used her and discarded her.
"You have this city, your father's home,
The enjoyment of your life, and your friends' company.
I am alone.
I have no city; now my husband betrays me.
I was taken as plunder from a land at the earth's edge—
I have no mother, brother, nor any
Of my own blood to turn to in this extremity.
So, I make one request."
And oh, how she convinced me.
"There is no heart more bloodthirsty," she finished, plucked the script out of my hands, and scanned it with a critical eye. "Ugh, I need to change the blocking on that last line."
"I liked it," I said shyly. She tossed her head, but seemed pleased.
"Have you ever thought about taking a drama class?" Her slim fingers flicked through the pile of scripts. "I think you should. You make a lot of friends, in theater."
"I'm... not good at making friends," I confessed. "People think I'm weird."
"Everyone in drama is weird. Trust me, you won't stand out much." Her face softened a little. "It's practically a family, there. Everyone looks out for each other."
"I'll— Yeah. I'd like that."
"Next semester," she said. "I expect to see you in that drama room next semester. No excuses."
ACT II
Next semester saw Raivis shuffling his feet in front of the double doors to the drama room at 7:53 AM, clutching his notebook like a lifeline.
"Hey! Are you here for the drama class?" came a cheerful voice behind him. Raivis whipped around and saw a slightly chubby blond boy bouncing on his heels.
"Uh— yes?"
"Hi! I'm Tino! Welcome to our little family!" Tino made an elaborate bow. "The door won't bite, you know." He pulled it open, strolled in, and joined the crowd of people clustered around the desk at the front of the room.
"Ooh, what are we doing?" he chirped.
"Silence!" came an imperious voice from the head of the desk. A tall young woman with long blonde hair held a...
...knife...
...aloft.
"Do not disrupt the sacrifice! Or I may decide that two are required."
"S-sacrifice?" Raivis squeaked.
"Hush," hissed a snaggle-toothed redhead with a look of utter glee. "Natalya's sacrificing Gilbert to the theater gods, I don't wanna miss this."
Slowly, Raivis backed away. The clustered teenagers had started chanting in various languages that were not English. He stared in horrified fascination as the knife came down, glittering under the stage lights.
From the desk rose a howl of agony.
"Light the pyre!" Natalya shouted. "Light it!"
Raivis bolted to the door, which opened and hit him in the face.
"Not again," said a thick British accent. "Gilbert, get off my desk."
Raivis reeled back, staring at the short, impeccably dressed teacher who was standing in the doorway, tapping his foot, with a binder tucked against his side. Again? AGAIN?
The crowd dispersed, laughing. The albino who had been sprawled on top of the papers on the desk moaned and sat up.
"Didja have to stab me that hard, Nat?" he complained. "Ooh, there's a new kid! Hi, new kid!"
"H-hi..."
"You came! —oh, come on, don't faint on me." Perri ducked in behind the teacher and threw her arms around Raivis's shoulders. "I seriously thought you were gonna chicken out. I'm proud of you, kid."
"I'm s-still considering it," Raivis muttered weakly.
"Come sit down, here—" She practically pushed him into a chair and settled next to him, spitting a wad of chewing gum into a tissue and launching it at the garbage can. "No gum in class," she explained.
The bell rang.
"Good morning, everyone!" the teacher said briskly, opening the binder and taking a pen from behind his ear. "It's second semester, so I think I know most of you already, but we have a new freshman, correct?"
Raivis raised his hand tentatively.
"T-that's me," he stuttered. Perri elbowed him; he ignored her. He had a right to be nervous, didn't he?
The teacher smiled kindly at him. "Welcome to the class, Raivis. I'm Mr Kirkland. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me, or one of the older students. I promise you'll have a lot of fun here." Raivis nodded wordlessly, and Mr Kirkland turned his attention back to the roll. "Kat, would you pass out the syllabi, please?" The students all groaned. "I know, I know. The administration requires me to go over it, but I'll hurry."
Raivis thought he was probably the only person who paid attention to the syllabus; the rest of the class, including Perri, was leaning over the backs of their chairs to talk to each other in low voices. They all snapped back to the front, though, as soon as Mr Kirkland said in a bored tone, "Any questions?"
Silence.
"Alright, let's play a game."
Perri grabbed his hand again and yanked him into the circle of people. "This is an improv game, we do a lot of them. First rule of theater: if you worry that you look stupid, you will. Also I'll hurt you. Participate."
So Raivis participated. What else was he supposed to do?
It took him a few days to learn everyone's names. He mostly hung out with Perri, who mostly hung out with the Braginsky sisters and Heidi. Heidi was really nice: sensible and sweet and tyrannical in the kind way that made you not notice that you were obeying her. Kat was a little chubby and mothered everyone else to death; Nat was tall and obsessed with the prop weapons. If you wanted help with body language, you went to Francis, who was a veteran of the drama classes and a survivor of the Great Oil-Paint-on-Canvas Incident of 2009 (don't ask). If you needed a costume, you went to Lizzy, who was a dab hand with thread, sequins, and hot glue, even if she always insisted on taking pictures. Tino was always ready with a bad pun, and Sadik had a perfectly normal face behind that mask he always wore, and Vlad liked to steal capes from the costume room and do a Bela Lugosi accent right behind you the day after he'd told a ghost story. Every single person in that class, he was convinced, was clinically insane.
They welcomed him immediately.
"We're striking the set for Mary Poppins today." And no one batted an eye when Raivis had to ask what "striking" meant. Ludwig, tall and stern and serious, showed him how to operate the drill and where the screws in the flats were, and then left him to work without trying to micromanage him. Even the couch/elevator debacle was pretty funny after the fact.
"The couch is pretty weirdly shaped, okay? So we had trouble fitting it through the doors. Then we kind of stood around for a while trying to figure out how we were going to get it up on the catwalk until Francis remembered about the elevator—"
"There's an elevator in the auditorium?" (Eduard was reading as usual. Raivis would never understand how it was possible to read, eat, and participate in a conversation at the same time, but his brother did it almost every day.)
"Yeah! I thought it was just a closet, but it's an elevator! So we drag the couch over there, and Francis went in first to steady it, and we're all shoving from behind, but the couch won't fit! And then the doors started closing! We had to pull it back really quickly, and wait for the elevator to go up and then back down, and that happened like five times! Oh, and Nat was wearing heels again, so she took them off and gave them to Eiríkur, so she was trying to move the thing barefoot, and it's cold in there so she was kind of hopping around and that was hilarious, and then we finally got the couch in and we didn't all fit, we had to crawl around on top of it and Francis had all this space in the corner but we couldn't get back there, and then this stupid couch wouldn't come out of the elevator so we're pulling and shoving and the elevator starting going down again and the couch started falling and Francis freaked out and he says he's never going on an elevator again — oh, and then—" he had to put his head down on the table for a moment. "Eiríkur lost— Nat's shoe— over the edge of the catwalk—"
At which point he lost it completely.
"You know," said Toris thoughtfully, "I don't think I've heard you laugh like this in a long time."
Raivis tried to answer, but he couldn't really breathe properly at the moment, so he threw a piece of bread instead.
In any case, there was no more than a day's break after the set was struck before a date was set for auditions for the next semester's play.
"Shakespeare," Mr Kirkland said sweepingly, and a little pompously. "One of the most influential writers in the English language. In theatre, we have a saying: if you can do Shakespeare you can do anything."
"Kirkland's got a man-crush," Natalya murmured. Heidi and Raivis stifled giggles.
"Ain't that the truth," said Perri quietly. "We did the Scottish play last year, I hope it's a comedy this time."
"Much Ado About Nothing!" Mr Kirkland announced. The room broke into cheers.
For two weeks straight, Perri dragged Raivis into an empty classroom after school and forced him to read lines with her. She was determined to get the part of Beatrice, and Raivis knew he made an awful Benedick but she needed someone to audition with.
The audition itself was... surprisingly unintimidating. Mr Kirkland smiled at him as they handed over the audition scripts — Perri had forced him to memorize the lines and done some rudimentary blocking.
"Will you not tell me who told you so?" Perri asked him, and it was just like their practices. Pretending to waltz as they spoke (Perri was at least a head taller than him), back straight and voice projected.
"Well done, both of you," said Mr Kirkland.
His friend elbowed him as they walked out. "See? That wasn't so bad."
"I guess not... now what?"
"We wait. I hate the waiting, it's the worst part..."
He got the feeling that she thought it was worth it, though, when she called him at seven o'clock at night to tell him the cast list had been posted and she'd gotten the part. Of course she was calm and collected as always. Her voice was not a shriek of excitement and the thumps he could hear on the other end of the line were definitely not her jumping up and down. Perri Jones did not express her feelings in such a stupid, overemotional way. Why would you ever think that?
ACT III
When most people fall in love, they realize it gradually. Perri did not get that luxury. She woke up one morning two weeks before the play opened, stared at the ceiling for a bit, thought about her dream, and swore quietly.
"Nat, I need to talk to you," she said as soon as she got to class, grabbing the older girl's sleeve and pulling her into a corner. "I have a crush on Raivis. What do I do?"
Natalya blinked. "Are you sure?"
"No. I have no idea what my own emotions are. Yes, I'm sure!" Her tone dripped with sarcasm. Natalya ignored it, slipping a hand into her pocket and rubbing the stone in it absently.
"It doesn't seem to be mutual," she said thoughtfully. "Of course, Raivis is rather emotionally stunted. I doubt he'd recognize his own crush if it did the polka in front of him in a coconut bra and feathered skirt."
"I did not need that image, Nat."
"What do you want? Do you want it returned or would you rather just forget about it?"
Perri went red. "Um... well, I mean... he's not... awful. He's my friend and all. I, uh... I just don't have time to run around him and be awkward!"
"Get me some of his hair," Natalya said.
"I— what?"
"His hair. That's the easiest way, probably. I need some of his hair and some of yours."
"...why?"
Now it was Natalya's turn to go pink. "I... The last person I liked was... quite stubborn."
"That tells me nothing," Perri pointed out.
"Never mind! Just get me Raivis's hair — one or two strands will do."
"Okay..." Perri said dubiously. Really, she thought, she loved Natalya like the older sister she'd never had but the woman was so odd sometimes. And why was she playing with that rock again?
Raivis was late that day anyway; Toris's keys had mysteriously gone missing and did not reappear until it was a quarter past eight and Raivis thought to look in the cat's bed.
("Boris, you sorry excuse for a useless lump of mangy fleabitten fur..." was the general vein of Toris's conversation for most of the drive.
"You know he's not even in here, right?"
"Shut up, Rai."
Eduard zoned out. His first period class was biology, which he despised.)
They had to check in at the office, and Toris walked with him to the drama room. "Have a good day, sweetheart," was accompanied by a hug, and then Toris added sheepishly, "Sorry about this morning."
"It's fine," Raivis said, pulling away, brushing loose hairs off of his shoulders, and edging down the hallway. "I learned a lot of new words, so—"
Toris looked horrified. "What— Raivis, get back here!"
He escaped inside, shoved his tardy slip at Mr Kirkland, and was promptly glomped by Perri.
"Let me feel your head," she ordered.
"What?"
"Your hair looks soft. Let me pet it."
He wriggled in her grasp. "Perri, let go," he protested.
"No. Hush."
"You'll get hair all over my sweater."
He felt her hand pinch his back. "Don't worry, I got it," she said, holding up several blond strands. Then she vanished behind one of the flats.
"What is with her?" he whined.
"Girls are difficult," said Eiríkur behind him, a glum look on his face.
"Hedi turned you down?" The other boy was Raivis's own age, and he'd confessed his plans to his fellow freshman last week while Heidi was rehearsing and couldn't hear him.
"Vasch turned me down. But Heidi didn't protest. I guess she doesn't like me after all..."
"I'm sorry?" Raivis said. He patted Eiríkur awkwardly on the arm and tried to slip away gracefully.
"I don't know why he's even here — he's not interested in acting at all, he's only here because of Heidi!"
"Aren't you only here because of Heidi?" The look on Eiríkur's face made Raivis decide that graceful or not it would be a good tactical decision to retreat right now.
After school, Natalya went home and raided her mother's spice cabinet; fortunately there were sticks of cinnamon instead of just the powdered kind, and plenty of basil and rosemary.
"Nat? What are you doi— oh no!"
She glanced over her shoulder to see Ivan standing in the doorway, looking ready to bolt. "No, no, no! It's for a friend. I'm over you, remember, brother?"
He was still edging away.
She held up a plastic bag — long brown and short blond strands of hair. "See? None of mine, none of yours. Now put the phone down I don't need to talk to my therapist."
Herbs in a bundle and into the melted beeswax (she'd tried paraffin before and no, it had to be beeswax, no matter how expensive that was) and light a fire in the hearth. Ivan kept watching warily as she carefully fed the hair strand by strand into the flames, murmuring under her breath. She bent over the beeswax, light flickering on her pale face, and her brother ventured:
"Nat?"
"Quiet, Ivan."
"Nat."
"Sh!"
"Your hair's on fire!"
She jerked back with a shriek and patted the flames out desperately.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just did!"
Ruefully, Natalya examined the singed lock. "It's only an inch. I can trim it, I guess." She sighed. "No harm done."
"What about the spell?" said Ivan innocently. She froze.
"Oh no ohnoohno..."
She cleaned up the wax, swore Ivan to secrecy, and did not sleep very well that night.
She didn't get a chance to talk to Perri until almost the end of rehearsal — Raivis seemed to be acting pretty normal, but she'd been too worried to interact with him. Eventually, she was able to sidle up to Perri and hiss:
"Well?"
"Whatever you did, I think it worked," Perri whispered back. "He keeps looking at me."
"Good." So the accident hadn't messed anything up after all. Natalya relaxed and fell into step beside the other girl as the students streamed out of the auditorium. Perri dug in her pocket for a stick of gum as she said:
"What did you do?"
"Well, technically the spell I used 'inspires devotion', but he's shy enough that all it ought to do is make sure confessing won't be terribly awkward. It'll only last a couple of weeks — by the time it wears off you should have things figured out."
"Natasha Braginskaya, I am almost impressed."
Natalya smirked — that was high praise from Perri — and changed the subject.
"Do you need a ride home today?"
"Raivis's older brother said he could take me, since he's waiting for Raivis anyway. Have you met Toris? He's Alfred's friend, but he's really nice."
"I can't say I have." Natalya had some plans for Alfred involving nails and hag-taper, but she didn't say that out loud. They stepped outside, sharing a shiver in the snowy air, and ambled toward the small grey car idling by the curb.
"See you, Nat!" Perri smiled sunnily and ducked into the car. "Oh, Rai, I didn't know you'd already come out, were you waiting long?"
"No."
She scooted over next to him and he didn't pull away; she tried inching a hand over his. He blushed and let his fingers curl into hers. They felt pleasantly warm.
"Ready to go?" Toris said, in a curiously choked voice.
"Yeah," said Raivis. "Uh, Tor, are you okay?"
"Mm. Perri, who was that girl who came out with you?"
"Natalya?" the children chorused, giving each other confused looks.
Toris sighed.
"She's beautiful," he said dreamily.
ACT IV
One week before the play, and Tino forgot his lines during rehearsal.
"I'm sorry!" he wailed, after the third time Mr Kirkland had to prompt him. Heidi, rearranging her wedding veil, smiled tightly at him.
"It's fine, Tino. It happens to everyone." Her tone of voice indicated that he was not going to get such grace for much longer, however.
Six days before the play, and they had to rehearse in the dark because Gilbert was trying to work out the lighting. They had to do the funeral scene five times before he had the spotlight programmed to his satisfaction. Meanwhile, Ludwig stayed backstage trying to convince his friend Feliciano to go away, because Feli was nice enough but wherever he went his brother went and wherever Lovino went Antonio went and all in all it was very distracting and you're not even in drama any of you so if you're not going to help you need to leave. Now.
Five days before the play, and Toris had a basketball game. Raivis, pinched in the bleachers with a notebook, wrote he's like a wolf on the court, all wildness and savagery. Who would think he'd be such a pushover everywhere else? There was a story in that, he thought. Perri was scowling beside him.
"I left rehearsal early for this?" she complained. "My stupid parents drag me to all of Al's games and you can bet they won't make him go to the play, why do they think I care?"
Instead of answering, Raivis rubbed her fingers. She smiled a little at him and tossed her head proudly.
"It's not so bad," he said. "If you don't want to watch the game, watch Feliks. That's always good for a laugh." And he told her stories about Toris and Feliks growing up together, and how Feliks talked Principal Wang into letting him do cheerleading tryouts and did better than most of the girls, and how you wouldn't think to see him that he's actually so shy but there was this one time in middle school... until she was actually laughing, which he considered an accomplishment.
And made her look extremely pretty, but that was irrelevant.
Completely, one hundred percent irrelevant.
"Have fun?" Toris asked at home that night, toweling down his hair.
"Yes, lots! I ended up sitting with Perri, so..."
"I saw you. Natalya didn't happen to come, did she?" Toris's voice was far too casual.
"You have to give up on her, Tor. She's never going to look twice at you."
"I know," said Toris. "She's far too good for me. I don't deserve to tie her shoelaces."
Raivis stared. His brother's face was completely straight. He was serious.
"I can't handle this," Eduard groaned. "If you start writing poetry about her nose I will disown you, that is a promise."
Toris laughed. "I'm no good at poetry. Maybe just a letter? And flowers — girls like flowers, don't they?"
"Argh!" Eduard shrieked.
Raivis was rather inclined to agree.
Four days before the play, Vlad came down with a cold. Mr Kirkland was furious. ("Temper tantrum" was how Francis described it, but then Francis had very little respect for Mr Kirkland at the best of times.)
It was Ivan Braginsky, of all people — dragged in to play Dogberry and about as loopy as his character — who solved the problem.
"Garlic," he said firmly. "It works every time."
"I'm allergic to garlic..." Vlad protested.
"The headache and the plugged nose are the problem, yes? The garlic will fix those and makeup can cover the rash."
"Do it," said Mr Kirkland with a sigh. "We can't do the play without Benedick."
Three days before the play, Principal Wang came over to watch rehearsal. Mr Kirkland made tea for them both and staunchly ignored the giggles.
"He's got a bigger crush on her than he does on Shakespeare!" Sadik said gleefully.
"Is that possible?" was Raivis's response, which set off another storm of laughter.
Two days before the play, Toris asked Natalya on a date. He did it in front of most of her classmates, wringing his hands the whole time, and Raivis wanted to sink into the ground.
"No," she said bluntly, before the invitation was half out of his mouth. He blundered on gamely, apparently set on at least finishing his speech.
"I know you're busy with the play, so I was thinking we could wait until next week— it wouldn't be anything big, just ice cream— I think you're really pretty and I'd like to get to know you better—"
"Someone shoot me," Raivis whispered, covering his eyes. "This is physically painful to watch."
"I said no," he heard Natalya say. "Come on, Kat, Ivan, we're leaving." Slowly, Raivis looked up to see Toris holding out a hand ineffectually, watching her go with a rather forlorn look.
"What did I do wrong?" he asked pitifully. His expression was reminiscent of a puppy whose owner has just left.
"Um, Toris?" Raivis said.
"Was it because I opened the door for her? I was just trying to—"
"Toris! Is your finger supposed to bend like that?"
With vague surprise, Toris glanced down at his hand, and his eyes widened.
"Um, no, I don't think so... Oooh, that hurts! Uh..." He cradled his arm to his chest and hurried away. Raivis buried his face in his hands again.
The day before the play, Roderich the sound tech suddenly changed the music for the dance scene from some weird Renaissance chamber piece to a completely different weird Renaissance chamber piece and Mr Kirkland threw another fit. Stefan pointed out that since no one was actually dancing to the beat anyway it hardly mattered what beat they didn't dance to; Mr Kirkland responded sourly that it ought to matter, and would have if they had practiced more than five minutes in the last two months. His mood did not pick up much after that.
("Nerves," Perri diagnosed.)
All in all, Francis switching costumes with Katya and showing up for the final confrontation in a dress was probably the least insane thing that happened that night — certainly the most benign. Bad rehearsal means a good performance, Tino kept quoting, until Natalya punched him, and Raivis desperately hoped that was true.
And then, suddenly, it was two hours before the play, and Raivis was doing his makeup with a strange, sick feeling in his stomach.
ACT V
The curtain rose. The Messenger stepped on stage.
I was convinced I was going to throw up.
"Are you nervous?" said Ivan curiously, sitting next to me against the wall behind the stage and drawing his knees up to his broad chest. "You look very pale."
"I've never done a play before," I confessed.
"Neither have I. It will be good to learn from, yes?"
"I... I guess." I pulled my kokle case closer and rubbed the outside absently. "I'm... not that good of an actor. I write poetry. I don't recite it."
Ivan rolled his massive shoulders back in a shrug. "That does not matter. We do the best we can. And if someone does not like it, we change their mind." He grinned widely. "Mr Pipe wins all his arguments~"
"Where did you get that? P-put it down!"
"But I will not hurt you!" he protested, still waving the pipe. "I have pills now!"
I suppressed a squeak and fled to the other side of the room.
winter winds
and a story for the ages
a song in spring
and laughing faces
summer sunshine
a lazy friendship
autumn arrives
with a breath of joy
—why did I ever imagine I was lonely?
"O, very well, my lord: the music ended, we'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth," said Tino, and I ducked on stage, squinting in the bright light. Francis winked at me, almost flirtatiously.
"Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again."
I wet my lips and said in my cheekiest voice, "O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once." (I meant it, oh I was dreading this—) The faces in the audience were dark, but I could make out Toris's long-haired figure, and Ed's glasses glinting, and— Alfred's cowlick?
I was so surprised I forgot to be nervous when I settled my kokle on my lap and started playing.
"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more..."
(Eduard's arrangement, in a key that my breaking voice could manage. It surprised me sometimes, how kind my brothers could be.)
I got a standing ovation. It was a good five minutes before Francis could say By my troth, a good song and get the show going again. And when I finally collapsed backstage, Perri, resplendent in a long dress that she would never be caught dead in outside of the theater, conceded:
"That was pretty good, actually."
"I thought my fingers were going to fall off, I was shaking so badly..."
"You get used to it."
"Really?"
"No," she said cheerfully, holding out her own fingers. "Feel how cold my hands are? You don't ever get used to stage fright. You just— learn to work through it."
"I think a lot of things are like that," I mused, and she grinned a little before cocking her head to the side.
"That's my cue—"
She pulled her hand out of mine and vanished.
("Heidi? You should get ready to go on stage..."
Heidi's lipstick was smudged and there was a suspicious streak on Eiríkur's face. For his sake I dearly hoped Vasch didn't notice.)
And after that, it was waiting again, and another short part, and more waiting, and applause and bowing and Gilbert missing his cue to bring the house lights up, and suddenly I was standing next to Perri in the hallway thanking people for coming and was that it?
"Ah! Rai you're so cute you're so talented let me HUG YOU—"
I pried myself out of Feliks's enthusiastic nuzzling and was promptly snatched up by Toris.
"You did such a good job I'm so proud of you—"
"Get off, Tor!"
There was an awkward cough from the back and Alfred kicked his leg against the ground. Perri went rigid beside me.
"I'll... leave you two alone," I said quietly. "Toris, Nat's over here if you wanted to say hi." I felt a little bad about throwing my brother to the wolves like that, but oh well.
"H-hello..." he stuttered.
Natalya's face was soft for once.
"Is your hand okay?" she asked, a little sheepishly.
"Oh! Yes, yes, it's fine. I managed to dislocate my finger and didn't even notice, how silly is that? Ahaha..."
She shuffled a bit.
"Look, it's my fault the spell misfired— I mean! I mean that your hand got hurt! Haha! Anyway, it's my fault, so, um... one."
"Huh?"
"I'll go on one date with you."
The sheer joy on Toris's face was... kind of cute, actually. But mostly embarrassing. I left. Quietly.
"I'll... wait for you in the car, then?" Alfred was saying, and Perri nodded, face flushed, and the hug was stiff and awkward but... well, it was a step in the right direction. She was almost-smiling when she turned back to me.
"The lovebirds are safe in their nest, then?" she said sardonically. "I will never let her live this down, I swear."
"Live what down?"
"I'll tell you later. For now—"
She kissed me, and it was unexpected but not unwelcome, and her mouth was kind of soft and warm and tasted like greasepaint and spearmint gum, and her corset dug into my chest and she was a head taller than me and generally it was perfect, and I don't know, it was my first kiss, what do you expect me to say?
Vellacott's translation of Medea used.
Most of the theater antics are based on true stories.
Toris and Natalya are both dorks. That is all.
Bad Heidi. No making out in the green room.