Much Ado
About Nothing
When Kingsport High puts on Romeo and Juliet, the world is turned upside down. Tyler and Val land major roles and encounter problems, Hank's cast as someone he knows he can't play, Jamie and Caitie are causing mishap after mishap backstage, and rebellion is rising among the masses. Is everything going to be resolved for opening night, or has the curtain come down before it even rose?
CHAPTER SUMMARY:
Val wants Tyler to audition, Hank wants everyone to
audition, Caitie and Jamie want no part in school spirit, and Tyler can't
decide what he wants in the first place. Then, when everyone decides what they
want and how to get it, who's going to play what role—and who made the cut?
Plus, what in the world is Brooke doing at auditions? Questions need answers…
Much
Ado About Nothing
"Please?" Val's voice was undoubtedly something Tyler
liked, but by this point Jamie and Caitie were tired of listening and sick of
answering.
"No way," Jamie answered quickly. Caitie nodded
agreement. Tyler shrugged a 'no' as nicely as he could.
"Come on, guys," Hank put in. "You'd all be fine actors…
and actresses."
Caitie agreed to the last correction, but apparently
didn't agree with the rest of the statement: "Um, hello? Jamie and I are not
participating in any talent show of school spirit. And—you're just saying we're
good because you want us to audition. I don't know about Jamie and Tyler, but I
didn't make the cut for fifth grade school play."
"Why's that so bad?" Tyler asked, interested. Caitie
looked at everyone sourly.
"There were nine slots."
"So?" Hank replied.
"Nine people auditioned. Eight made the cut. One person
had to play a tree and Betsy Ross. And it's not hard to play a tree." Smiles
threatened to tease at features, except for Val, who had ended up playing Betsy
Ross and the tree.
"It wasn't that funny," Val interrupted. "It's hard to
play a tree and Betsy Ross at once!" That didn't help. Real laughs erupted.
"All right," said Hank. Silence—that voice commanded
attention. "Who wants to audition?"
Val and Hank were trying very hard to convince people to
audition for the latest school play—Romeo and Juliet. It didn't exactly help
that two of the people they were trying to convince were rebels, and the other
would sooner die than act.
Well, Tyler admitted as to his earlier thought, I'd
also like to kiss Val—a lot—and—
"How much kissing is there?" he
inquired warily. Val looked overjoyed that someone was showing signs of
breaking down.
"If you're Romeo and Juliet—then, a lot. If you're not… I
don't think there's any."
Fine. Tyler grimaced at what he was
thinking—acting! He hated acting. Maybe he was good at it—he didn't care. But
he did like Val more than he hated acting, so… I'll audition for Romeo. And
if I don't get the part… well… I'll see Val more. And then, Val can be Juliet,
and then… Jumbled thoughts, but often those make the best decisions.
"Fine," he sighed. "I'll try out for Romeo." He was
rewarded for travails by a squeal and quick hug from Val. Meanwhile, Jamie and
Caitie were casting him death looks like they couldn't believe he had gone to
the "light side" for a pretty face. Or rather, Val's pretty face.
"Come on, you can work backstage," pleaded Hank. Jamie
and Caitie looked at each other.
"Conference," Caitie said, pulling Jamie a few meters
away.
"Okay," Caitie whispered, "let's do it."
"Are you crazy?" said Jamie, trying not to scream. Was
Caitie crossing to the light side, too?
"No, just evilly wicked. Look, we want to show them that
we want no part of this overachieving overachiever thing, right?"
"Right," Jamie agreed slowly.
"So we join!" said Caitie excitedly. Jamie shook his
head.
"Lost you there."
"We'll show them that this play was only meant for
overachievers and is pointless! So, we try for backstage. We don't get it,
we'll prove our point—"
"Which is?" Jamie interrupted.
"I'm still tinkering with it," Caitie told him, "but
pretty much that the play is stupid, is the general gist of it."
"Okay, go on." Jamie figured he should just let her
finish and ask questions later. It'd probably work.
"And if we get it, we'll do a really bad job and prove
our point!" finished Caitie.
"I still don't get it."
"Just say yes and follow me, okay?"
"Sure, whatever."
They broke and walked back to the others.
"We'll do backstage," said Caitie casually. Val squealed
again, but, Tyler noticed with some satisfaction, she didn't hug Jamie or
Caitie. If he got the part, would she hug him again? The thought was
intriguing.
Jamie, however, seemed to be thinking that this was not
intriguing and that he would not take Caitie's advice in the future if it meant
listening to Val's squeals. Of course, she didn't squeal much, but Jamie wasn't
willing to take that chance.
"We've got lunch," Caitie told Jamie as the bell rang
loudly.
"Thanks, I know my own schedule," Jamie said dryly. The
others did a double take.
"What do you mean?" Hank asked. "Man, you've got
English—remember, you're a sophmore?"
"Not anymore." Jamie yanked a piece of yellow paper out
of his jacket pocket. "'Mr. Jamie Waite has teacher's permission to switch
periods for lunch and English. He will be expected to keep his grades above D
to remain in this privileged time format and has promised to work half an hour
after school on alternating Fridays with a tutor to close the deal. Signed, Mr.
Mann, Signed, Principal Carlson.'" He replaced the slip in his pocket and
smiled. "What do you think?"
"That's great!" Val exclaimed, first to speak.
Everyone—except Caitie, who he had told that morning—echoed Val.
"How did you convince Carlson?" Tyler questioned. "No
offense—but he kind of hates you."
"I told him I'd work with a counselor." Jamie snickered.
"Beats me why I need a counselor, but hey. Now, are we eating lunch or not?"
He, Caitie, and Hank set off down the hall. Val and Tyler
lagged slightly.
"Tyler," Val said.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for
volunteering," said Val with a smile. "It was sweet of you." She kissed him
quickly on the cheek, sending the teen into a state of distinct shock. Smiling
again, she grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hall.
Okay, Tyler told himself, now I am really glad
I'm auditioning for the play.
"I do not think I can do this," Tyler told Val. "I really
do not."
"Come on, you'll do great," Val assured him.
"Easy for you to say," Tyler answered. "You already
auditioned."
True—he had watched, invariably spellbound, as Val had
read the lines. Now, true, he was probably spellbound because she had started
looking straight him in the middle of "O, be some other name!" but all the same,
he found her performance riveting.
"All right, let's rehearse." Simple words drew Tyler from
a pleasant reverie.
"By a name/I know not how to tell thee who I am/My name,
dear saint, is hateful to myself/Because it is an enemy to thee/Had I it
written, I would tear the word." Words flowed from his lips as he fought to
focus not on Val's eyes, but on the script. "Alack, there lies more peril in
thine eye/Than twenty of their swords; look though but sweet/And I am proof
against their enmity."
"Very good, Tyler!" Val was overjoyed. Or close to it.
"Connell, Tyler!" The "director", as he loftily called
himself, was the drama teacher Mr. Edwards. Some of the student body thought he
was crazy, the other thought he was an eccentric genius. Most thought he was crazy.
It wasn't his manner of teaching that was strange, it was his clothes—red ties
with yellow squares, orange socks, a blue beret on a balding head, black slacks
with a white shirt. Rainbow attire made him a moving target, but he was
brilliant for a drama teacher if you were close to him long enough to find that
out.
Tyler clutched the script and raced up to the stage. This
was precisely why he hated acting. Tryouts.
"Act II, Scene II, Orchard of Capulets." He looked at
Val, who smiled. Courage started to eat away the fear and wear it away.
"He jests," he began, "at scars that never felt a wound…
but soft! What light through yonder window breaks?/It is the east, and Juliet
is the sun./Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon/Who is already sick and pale
with grief…" Tyler trailed off and tried to find himself on the page. This
wasn't happening. Another brain freeze—stage fright had found a new victim.
But also a new foe. Val's eyes met his as he looked up
helplessly, and Tyler was reminded of how much he wanted the part, how much he
wanted Val to be Juliet, how so very much…
"That thou her maid art more fair than she/Be not her
maid, since she is envious/Her vestal livery is but sick and green/And none but
fools do wear it, cast it off…"
The rest of the audition went well. Val seemed to help a
lot, somehow, but it would have been nice if she had acted opposite him instead
of Claudia Dart, who was like a wooden puppet, controlled by strings that could
not add feeling to her mouth or words.
"Final cut, main roles!" shouted Mr. Edwards. "Val
Lanier, Tyler Connell, Alyssa Michaels, Thomas Woodrow, Courtney Mien, Jonathan
Stewart. Miss Lanier, Mr. Connell, opposite each other."
Tyler and Val looked at each other, slightly worried, but
walked up the steps to the stage.
"Act II, Scene II," Val said slowly. Tyler drew a deep
breath. Adrenaline—this was why he had done acting those times he had, the same
reason he did football—the rush, fast rush.
"…The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars/As
daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven/Would through the airy region stream
so bright/That birds would sing and think it were not night/See, how she leans
her cheek upon her hand!/O, that I were a glove upon that hand/So that I might
touch that cheek!" Tyler was getting into the role. Stereotypically, football
players might not be this feeling, but speaking to hearts will move any person,
and Tyler had never been as stereotypical as you might expect.
Val was trying very hard to pay attention to her lines and
remembering, which was hard when she was looking into Tyler's eyes, and even
harder when he was staring right back into hers. She wet her dry lips and
began.
"Ay me!" Breath caught in air and spiraled.
"She speaks!/O, speak again, bright angel! For thou
art/As glorious to this night, being o'er my head/As a winged messenger of
heaven…"
Enraptured was the audience, as enraptured as often were
the actors themselves, lost in blue depths. Seemed enraptured, too, did Mr.
Edwards, until the nurse called after "My love as deep; the more I give to
thee/The more I have, for both are infinite."
Startled suddenly, Mr. Edwards called "Alyssa Michaels
opposite Thomas Woodrow."
Val and Tyler stepped from the stage, aware something had
happened that had crossed the thin red line of friendship and brought them into
reality.
While Val and Tyler had been making their big debut, Hank
had been auditioning for three roles: Mercutio, Tybalt, and the Prince. He
figured he'd probably get one of them, and if not, then he could be an extra
Montague or Capulet.
"If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark…"
"You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, and you will
get me an occasion…"
"Where are the vile beginners of this fray?…"
He wasn't an extremely good actor, but good enough. Not
as good as Tyler, but better than some who tried for it. Either way, he made it
to the final cut for Mercutio. Good enough for him.
"You did well," Val complimented Hank, trying not to
focus on her performance with Tyler.
"Yeah, well, you two brought down the house. Great
acting. I'll bet you fifteen bucks you got the parts."
"No way," Val said. "I need my money, and did you see
Thomas Woodrow's performance?"
Tyler had to agree with her on that point—Thomas Woodrow
had acted very badly, and he was saving his money for… well, something. He
hadn't decided what yet. Maybe a birthday present for Val or someone.
"Just a minute," Val said, digressing from the subject as
she caught a glimpse of blond hair. Familiar blond hair. "What is Brooke doing
here?"
MAN, that was long! Hope you
liked, next chapter will come soon… who won the parts? And what is Brooke doing
there? Did Jamie and Caitie become backstage hands… or has Caitie's "point"
already been proven?