So our poor hero starts to realize the mess he's in...
Review, people, reveiw! please? I'll update 1 more time this week, but then I'm off to band camp, so enjoy while you can.
Disclaimer: I do not own Shakespeare
Matt was over often for the next week. Most days they just "goofed off" (which, as far as Benvolio could tell, had nothing to do with chasing gophers away from the gardens as he had originally thought) and went swimming in the lake. These swimsuits were really another one of dreamland's marvelous inventions.
There were many here. Self-moving transportation, like cars and planes, and fireless torches, moving pictures, ice boxes that never melted, the "Verizon phone…" the list went on and on. It was like paradise here.
Maybe it was that factor that kept Benvolio believing it was a dream, the most vivid and long he had ever had. He had to keep believing it was a dream, that he would wake up back home, that he wasn't…that he hadn't… Benvolio couldn't even think about. The thought of blood made him sick now.
One day, however, when Matt bounded up the door with his usual gusto, he had a large knapsack hanging off one shoulder. Jake took one look at it and groaned.
"No, not today man, come on,"
"School starts in two days!" Matt shouted at him, dropping the bag on the floor of the living room. It made an unusually loud thud. "I don't know about you, but I haven't even looked at any of it and if we don't start today I'm f-"
"Matt!" Jake hissed, jerking his head at Benvolio.
"What?" he cried. "I was gonna say failing junior year! Geez, Jake! Now, if your dirty mind is all done overreacting, it's time to study the art of suicide."
"What?" Benvolio cut in. He'd picked up more on the local dialect. "You study what?"
"He means a tragedy where the main characters kill themselves," Jake explained. "It's lots of fun to read. And we get to for English. Yay."
Matt's face went blank. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. That's what I meant. I was actually going to save English for later. Pull out geography! I want to learn about my man from across the sea!"
"Stop rhyming-eee" Jake screeched. Benvolio laughed. He had quickly followed the pattern of being back in a threesome. Of course, he would never be as close, or as comfortable as these two were, but it felt natural. Even if they did think he was Ben Mantahue from England.
Matt pulled out an obscenely large book from his bag and threw it on the floor. Jake sighed, pulled in towards him, and flipped to the back of the book, passing by a bunch of world maps.
"Wait," interrupted Benvolio, catching the page with his fingers. "Can I see this?"
Jake shrugged. "Sure," he said, passing him the textbook.
Benvolio studied the map. These two must be extremely advanced students! To be given maps so accurate! He brushed his hand over Europe. Verona wasn't even on the map.
"That's where you're from?" asked Matt, referring to where Benvolio's index finger had rested over England. He nodded.
"Cool," added Jake. "And now you're here." He pointed to a continent across the Atlantic Ocean.
"That's really far," Benvolio commented.
"Oh, nah." Matt waved his hand, as if dismissing the comment. "Only two thousand miles or something."
Benvolio felt his stomach plummet an inch or two in his stomach. Two thousand miles away from Verona? He shook his head to clear it. This was just a dream. "What's the number at the top?" he asked to distract himself. "Is that the number of copies made?"
Jake took a look. "No, that's just the year to book came out."
Benvolio spluttered. "The, the year?"
"Yeah, I know, it's so old," Matt said. "1999? Really? It's 2010. Get with the program, people."
Benvolio jumped up. "Bathroom," he told the other two, running towards a place where he could lock himself up and be alone.
Over two thousand miles and over 600 years… "I really wouldn't mind waking up now," Benvolio muttered. But nobody responded. Nobody ever would respond to his meaningless thoughts again, he reminded himself. The only one who ever had was Romeo, for Mercutio didn't pay attention to anyone else's comments, and he was dead. He had to get used to it.
I wonder how many days now, he thought errantly. I'm sorry, friends. I said I would keep track. I'm so sorry.
For the first time, he wondered what kind of dream this was.
