A World to Hide Virtues In: Justin
So I decided to turn this into a sort-of-series of one-shots…how many? I don't know. But this should be the last one until the next chapter of Play On is finished. Blame quirky21 for requesting another one-shot and making me think of Justin in a better light;-) Each piece in this series will be based on a question about a character, have a title that is quoted from the play, and will be less than 1200 words (originally I tried for less than one thousand, but I'm not that good at short!).
Disclaimer: I don't own Twelfth Night or She's the Man, or any characters from either one.
The question: Why would Justin keep trying to talk to Viola?
A World to Hide Virtues In: Justin
"I think I have the trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria." - Twelfth Night
She didn't talk to him beforehand, and that was her first mistake. She wouldn't talk to him after, and that was her second. He tried, God knows he did, to find her. He left message after message, inviting her to scream at him, insult, or hit him. Whatever it would take to get her to listen. He called her mom's house, and then stopped by there in person. He was told she was at her dad's place, but that was a bust too. He went to a Junior League debutante meeting with his mother, combed every park and soccer field in the city looking for her. Drove over to Cristofer's to ask her friend Paul. Begged Kia and Yvonne to get her to call him. Left a message on her brother's cell phone, of all things, because he knew her well enough to know that she told him everything and that guy had enough experience with stubborn girls that he might be willing to help.
No one would tell him anything. No one had seen her, or would admit to it if they had. Paul took the most pity on him; he knew that at least she was okay, if AWOL.
So he didn't talk to her before or after the boy's team first practice either, and that was his mistake, even though it wasn't like he didn't try. She didn't give him any warning that she was going to show up at Pistonek's practice. He had thought she was a fighter. All the time her knew her, since their freshman year, she had never run away from anything. Except now, when it was most important. Every time he thought about how willing she was to walk away from him, he felt short of breath. Had she been looking for a reason to end things? Had he missed the signs that it wasn't working?
"When we first started going out, you couldn't kiss at all." It had seemed like a joke at the time; her eyes had been full of mischief, her smile a little flirty. Or was that just his own desire? Maybe the smile was more smug than happy, the eyes full of deception. He felt used. How much of the time, the years, they'd spent practicing together had she planned on just walking away when she was through with him?
Why wouldn't she just talk to him? In almost two years of dating, hadn't he earned even one iota of faith? His chest felt heavy again.
The whole thing was a disaster, and Justin couldn't figure out why the school cut the girls team at all. He blamed the Headmaster, largely, and Coach Pistonek. If the school hadn't cut their team to begin with, none of this would have ever happened. Viola was at fault too; if she had just come to him before interrupting practice, he could have warned her off. He could have made her understand.
She never had a chance.
She could have fought her way on to the team, he knows. She could have kept at it, badgered Coach and the administration until they gave in. Even threatening as much would see Pistonek cave in a heartbeat. She could go to the district, raise enough complaints to get a Title IX investigation. Cornwall was part of the CIAC, and would have to allow her to play on boy's team if pressed. But Justin had hoped, in the few futile seconds he had to think about it while Viola had asked Coach to try out, that it wouldn't come to that. He'd played on this team, under that coach, for going on four years and he knew how things went. The team adapted the character of its coach, flawed though it may be. If Viola tried out, she'd probably make the official roster, if only to appease everyone.
No, she'd definitely make it. And Pistonek would use her in practice, as a great tool to prepare them for tough competition, though he may not say as much.
But she'd never see a minute of game time.
She was too good to have to settle for that. She wanted play in college, be on the national team. Benchwarmers didn't win much confidence from college scouts, even at Michigan. So even though it wasn't the best moment, Justin knew that he had to act. She was a fighter; she wouldn't back down. But it would be better for everyone if she were rebuffed right now. He could find a minute to tell her afterword, and she could carry on with the fight to bring back the girls team. There was still two weeks before school started; more than three until the girl's league season began. He had every faith that Viola could get her team back, and be its star. But to let her wither away third-deep on the roster wouldn't do anyone any favors. She would understand, afterwards, and agree with him, he was sure. She didn't want to spend the season sitting on her ass anymore than he wanted her too.
Pistonek tied his own noose, really, by not letting her play; he tightened it with the 'girls aren't as good as guys' speech in front on the entire girls team. Justin couldn't help but be amused at his sheer stupidity. But there was a danger here, too, and Viola just didn't seem to get it. Rotting away on the sideline would kill her, and he couldn't watch it happen. Even if this were the thing that finally got the embattled soccer coach canned, it wouldn't happen fast enough to save her playing time.
"Justin, you're the team captain, what do you think?" His word wouldn't change Coach's mind, and Viola should have known it. Everyone else did. But disagreement would only damn her case forever, and break the team in two. Coach Pistonek was not the sort of man who tolerated being proven wrong (no matter how often he was).
"I think the coach said it all." It was a carefully couched response; Justin had nothing he wanted to add. Coach would assume he agreed, and Viola was smart enough to read between the lines.
Only this time, she wasn't.
Maybe she was too angry, too shocked. He could understand that, on some level. He had tried to put an end the conversation, knowing that it would only dig the hole deeper. He had tried, in so many words, to convey his thoughts to her: "I just don't want to see you get hurt." But she missed it.
Altogether, a ridiculous reason to fight. They would fix it, he was sure. He would walk away from his team too, if that's what she wanted.
In the end, it was just a stupid soccer issue. No way was it more important than them.
