Hello hello!
Welcome back to Twelfth Grade. I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter :) Thank you to the guest reviewer haha I hope the gay is fulfilling.
- Leandro -
"If music be the food of love, play on," I start, trying to fill the space with my voice like Mr. A said. "Give me excess of it."
We're sitting in the mostly unfilled gym, thirteen high schoolers and two teachers sitting around six folding tables arranged in a square. Everyone's got a photocopied stack of papers that make up their Twelfth Night script in front of them, the more industrious among us already flipping through a binder, with a couple of school-provided sharpened pencils for some yet-unspecified reason. I didn't expect to need school supplies for this, so I'm armed with a loose collection of pages that I'm going to have to be careful to not disorder before I can put some kind of clip around them.
"Enough, no more, 'tis not so sweet now as it was before," I finish, and Mr. A holds us his hand for me to stop, then hops over the table to stand in the middle of our little ring.
"Thanks, Leandro! So! That's the most famous monologue from Twelfth Night, and it's also how it starts," he says, slowly turning as he speaks to make eye contact with each of us. "It sets up the audience's expectations nicely, right? A romance, lots of pretty flowers and music and stuff. And that is part of Twelfth Night, but there's kind of another plot hiding underneath it."
The Sir Toby stuff? I try to remember our grade nine reading of it. Mostly, I remember Haze nerding out in the most adorable way and Mel trying to explain the plot to me forty-six times during my essay-writing attempt.
"How many of you guys read Twelfth Night in grade nine?" he asks, casting his eyes over us. "Yeah, Leandro, Haiza, Ivette, Blaire, Julio, Isadora—okay, great! You guys will be our resident textperts then. I'll quickly summarize it for everyone who didn't get the chance to read it."
All I remember about it is that there's no chance you can summarize it quickly, I think, exchanging a skeptical look with Haze, who's sitting to my left.
"When I say your character's name, why don't you stand up so we can all get acquainted?" Mr. A suggests. "Twelfth Night is a comedy by William Shakespeare that revolves around two people—Viola and Toby."
Haze makes a pained face and then stands. C'mon, doesn't she wanna do this? So does Bruno.
"And Blaire—er, you don't need to stand," the teacher says awkwardly as the girl waves from her wheelchair. "But Blaire will be our Toby understudy, and Penelope will be our Viola understudy!" A round, reddish-haired girl I don't recognize stands. Is that one of Cory's cousins? She got them to audition too, right? "Toby and Viola have the largest parts to shoulder, so that means lots of memorization for you four! Now, Toby and Viola are the main characters of their two different plots, and they only occasionally crash into each other. You three can sit down."
Is it my turn?
"The first story of Twelfth Night is about Orsino and Olivia." Mr. A says and I spring to my feet. Cory stands on my right side, and I blow her a kiss, which Mr. A laughs at. "Exactly, Leandro. Duke Orsino is in love with Olivia, but she's in mourning for her brother." Cory pretends to wipe a tear, following my melodramatic lead. "So Orsino sends his new favourite servant, 'Cesario,' who is actually Viola in disguise," he waves for Haze to stand, which she does with some coaxing, "to go read Olivia poetry and tell her how much Orsino loves her. But it backfires, and Olivia falls in love with 'Cesario.'"
This time, it's Cory who blows the kiss at Haze, who laughs. I smile. Glad she's lightening up a bit. This Twelfth Night thing was her idea. I'm also glad Cory seems into it, but she's usually down for anything.
"Now we've got one of the only examples of a real love triangle going on," Mr. A says, "because Viola's fallen in love with Duke Orsino."
I strike a pose, batting my eyelashes at Haze, who gives me an elbow-jab to the ribs for my trouble. Not very romantic of her! Still, it's maybe a blessing that she's not pretending to be in love with me or I'd probably embarrass myself.
"So Viola's in love with Orsino, who's in love with Olivia, who's in love with 'Cesario' aka Viola," Mr. A explains, his smile brimming with glee. Nerd, I think, grinning at the teacher. "Quite a mess. Things only get more confusing when…" he whirls and points at Moiz, "Viola's twin brother, Sebastian turns up."
Haze's brother stands and I wonder if they cast him just because he and Haze are pretty indistinguishable without clues like his hair versus Haze's hijab, plus fashion sense to go off of. Haze is, as usual, buried in her collection of scarves, which is doing nothing to combat the fact that she's got liquid nitrogen in her veins. Moiz's neck has only a couple silver chains. Is that a bike lock? "Sup."
"Sup indeed!" Mr. A declares. "Sebastian gets tracked down by one of Olivia's servants, who Olivia ordered to go find 'Cesario' and bring to her. He and Olivia get married, Orsino finds out and thinks that Cesario has betrayed him, the twins are revealed, and then everyone gets married; Sebastian and Olivia stick together, and Orsino proposes to Viola."
I knew it was ridiculously convoluted. I do that little clamshell-hand to Haze like I'm proposing and she sticks her tongue out at me. Just two goofy friends! Nothing weird about this.
A bunch of people are left puzzled as to what their role is, and then everyone groans when Mr. A says, "Okay, so the other half of the play… oh, c'mon guys! It's fun! So, Sir Toby, right?"
Bruno stands again and I purse my lips. Oh boy.
"Loud, lecherous, drunk, and not super sensitive about his niece, Olivia's, sudden loss of her brother," Mr. A begins. "He's brought this knight, Andrew Aguecheek," Baru stands, already doing his annoying little smirk thing, "to come woo her. Toby's real goal, though, is to get the wealthy Andrew to finance his nights out, and they party nonstop with Olivia's clown, Feste," Freddy stands, "much to the chagrin of," he spins and points at Daphne, who stands, and then Julio, who, when Blaire touches his wrist, does as well, "Maria, the maid, and Malvolio, the steward. They have… slightly different relationships to Toby. Maria is in love with him and Malvolio hates his guts."
From the look my brother Jules is sending in Bruno's general direction, I get the impression he might not have to act too much. I pity Daphne.
"While Maria is a bit more tolerant of Andrew and Toby's antics, Malvolio is super-not. He's very principled and thinks they're heathens," Mr. A explains and Julio cracks a rare smile. I feel like he's going to enjoy telling Bruno, Baru, and Freddy off. I almost envy him. "He interrupts their partying, calls them a bunch of mean stuff, and then storms off. Which is how plot number two gets kicked off! They want revenge, and Maria comes up with a plan. They write Malvolio a love letter in Olivia's handwriting and leave it in the garden for him."
Cory actually gasps next to me and I turn sharply to grin at her. She mouths something at me, but I can't read lips so I just continue to smile evilly. Yes, Cory's gonna have to deal with Julio pretending to fawn over her.
"Malvolio," he turns and snap-points at Julio, "is secretly in love with Olivia, or just wants to be a lord, or wants power over Toby. Up to you, Julio. He gets the letter, which is filled with crazy instructions for how to signal to Olivia that he returns 'her feelings,' and then follows it; dresses up crazily, makes dick jokes, and starts smiling like a maniac."
I think I detect a bit of embarrassment from my brother, and Cory certainly seems nonplussed. Oh, this is going to be delightful.
"Olivia's a little bit busy being in love with Cesario though, so she sends Malvolio off to be taken care of by Toby and his gang, who pretty much torture him, and then the play ends," Mr. A says. "Yeah. Oh, also, Toby and Maria run off together."
"Nice," Bruno says, and Daphne forces the most plastic smile I've ever seen.
"We're going to read some of it today, and I want you guys to start thinking about your first characterization assignment," he says. "I know, homework, but it's fun! What I want you to do, once we finish reading it through, is write down one secret you think your character would never say out loud, okay? Pretty much everyone in Twelfth Night is motivated by their desire for power, or a beautiful lady, or food and wine, so it's really important that you guys get a sense of who your character is in their heart.
"Now let's get this reading started!" he exclaims, and hops back over the table.
I want some of what he's on, I think, smothering a laugh at the caffeinated teacher and turning my attention back to the script in front of me.
"If music be the food of love…" I begin again.
- Blaire -
It only takes us two rehearsals to finish the reading. Mr. A doesn't ask either Penelope or me to read any of our understudying-role, and she's left with Curio, Valentine, and the sea captain, while I do Fabian.
It's then that Mr. A passes out little lined cue cards that we're supposed to write our character's 'deep inner desire' on, and then hide. Despite the teacher repeatedly telling us that we're not supposed to tell or show anybody what we wrote, Bruno already bragged to me and Belle about how he wrote that Toby doesn't actually love Maria. I felt equal parts grossed out and embarrassed, and as a weird kind of revenge, write:
Toby: he wishes he could give Maria a better life.
I'm not quite sure what to do for Fabian; he wants to fit in, maybe? He certainly seems game with Toby and Maria's scheming without much convincing. Sure. I'll give him a whole backstory about how he was bullied as a child, I think, quickly scribbling it underneath. I slip it into my backpack, which dangles off my wheelchair handle, and then turn my attention back to Mr. A, who has taken centre 'stage' again.
"Alright, everyone, are you guys done writing them? Remember, hide 'em well. We've got a special guest today; Ms. Cary, our music director, is gonna be taking you guys through some warm-ups, and then you'll be learning the songs in the text."
Here we go, I think. Everyone gets up with varying levels of enthusiasm; Freddy and Izzie practically prance over to the piano that Ms. Cary is wheeling in, while Julio's older brother Leandro looks shy for the first time that I've ever seen, and Daphne is dragging Ivy over by her sister's straightened, silver-dyed hair. Julio and I walk and wheel over, taking positions by the outer part of the horse-shoe we've formed. Other than occasionally rapping along under my breath to the music Belle blasts at all hours of the day, I haven't sung since the auditions a week or two ago.
"We'll start with a warm-up," Ms. Cary says crisply. "Then we'll learn one of the songs from the play. Alright, follow my lead."
She plays a quick descending scale while following it with her voice, the notes sliding into each other. Half-heartedly, everyone repeats it after her. Well, I say half-heartedly because that's what most people do. Freddy and Izzie are covering for us with their perfect pitches. Stupid, spoiled, vocal-lesson-having Finns. No wonder Freddy's Feste; he does most of the singing, doesn't he?
Undaunted, Ms. Cary does another scale, starting from higher up, and we all follow her again. I cough a little to clear my throat and try to summon some kind of yet-undiscovered voice talent.
"Stand up straight!" Ms. Cary calls over the piano.
Yeah, thanks, I snort and Julio shoots a wry look in my direction. Between Mr. A and Ms. Cary, whoever has the fewest fuck-ups relating to my disability by the end of the show gets a cookie. Still, I shift myself a little in my wheelchair so that my back's a bit more straight and suck in a deep breath. Even though my voice blends into the mass of everyone else's, I think I'm hitting the notes a little more accurately.
She stops the scales after a few minutes of going up and down and adjusts her glasses. "Well, now that we're warmed up, take one of the song booklets. There's one for each of you but no spares, so don't lose it."
"Ten steps in front on top of the piano," I tell him, and Julio squeezes his way through the crowd of students to the stack of papers on the piano with his white cane moving back and forth like a metronome. His dark head sticks up above shorter students, rivalled only by Freddy's own upsetting height. I'd have to crane my head all the way back to even get a look at their faces. At least Jules doesn't care if I don't make eye contact, I think. He returns with one and drops it into my lap.
"Thanks," I say, flipping through it. "Huh. Didn't know Twelfth Night was a musical."
"Gotta do something to keep the cheap seats entertained, I guess," Julio remarks, a sardonic edge to his voice. "My copy had the lyrics in it; does it have the instrumental written?"
"Doesn't look like it," I say, and Julio nods, then turns around to go find his braille copy.
When Ms. Cary opens her mouth to call Julio back, I give her a look and she closes her mouth, then redirects her attention to the other eleven students and says, "Most songs in Shakespeare's plays were folk songs that the people watching the plays would know, but because everyone knew them, there were always a hundred different musical arrangements. So don't go home and look up the songs because you'll get a different version than the one we're using. Let's start with the last song in the play. You'll all be singing this before the bows. Give it a listen."
She launches into some song about wind, rain, and a 'little tiny boy.' It jumps from note to note quickly, high and then descending low into Ms. Cary's range, and repeats with different words three or four times. She finishes with a little flourish on the piano.
Then she has us repeat each line after her, painfully slowly. When I hear Julio mumbling along, I threaten to poke him, which brightens up his voice a bit. We make it through, although I'm not convinced the audience won't run out of the auditorium with their hands over their ears. Ms. Cary seems satisfied, which surprises me, but maybe Freddy and Izzie were close enough to her piano that they drowned us out. If nothing else, we can put them to sleep with our Shakespeare, and then they won't even hear the singing, I decide, eternally optimistic. And there's nowhere to go but up.
After rehearsal, Julio and I make our way out the back of the school, chatting. Julio was bad at small-talk for so long, but when I told him walking to the bus stop didn't count, and that we didn't have to make small-talk on the bus either because we'd be listening to an audiobook, he relaxed and just started talking normally. And that's the story of how I tricked my best friend into chitchat. It's the best time making small-talk that I have, anyway—Julio never gets annoyed or confused when I ask him to repeat something three times, and he doesn't care or notice when my eyes jump around or roll unconsciously.
"So, what'd you write for Fabian and Toby, Blaire?" he asks, pausing as we hit the bumpy edge of the sidewalk that signals the crosswalk.
"It's a secret," I remind him, waiting for the light to turn, then wheel myself across.
"Mr. A won't ever know," he snorts. "Besides, telling one person and telling the entire cast aren't the same thing."
"I guess so," I agree. "I wrote that Fabian wants to fit in and that Toby wishes he could give Maria a better life."
Julio laughs, one of his hoarse little chuckles. "Not quite the same as Bruno, then?"
"Ugh, he told you too?"
"Yeah, he decided to go for more of a 'tell-the-whole-cast' thing," Julio answers wryly.
"Let's hope Mr. A doesn't find out," I comment. "Given how much he repeated that we weren't supposed to tell anyone…"
"He might throttle Bruno," Julio finishes and gives me a real laugh. "That, I'd like to see."
"Same." The mental image of our beanpole theatre teacher jumping on my brother and squeezing his neck makes me grin. "What'd you put for Malvolio?"
"That I want to kill Bruno," Julio says conversationally. "Oh, here's the bus."
As we wait for the driver to flip out the ramp, Julio queues up Zima Blue and offers me an earbud. I settle in for a sci-fi bus ride.
- Penelope -
I don't look like an Indian e-boy.
That's never been a problem until today, but… life's full of surprises, I guess. As I trudge home (I'm pretty sure the school admin lost my bus pass and Heloise refused to let me double-tap hers), I look at the pale face reflected in the rain puddles. Viola, huh? Lucky me, I guess. I thought Canada would be kind of… shit. But Corinne's about as friendly as I remember from Thanksgiving, this theatre thing she and Heloise twisted my arm into seems fine, and some of the boys are seriously cute. Dunno if the audience will buy that I'm that Moiz guy's twin, but… with my luck, I probably won't be in any of the shows.
I was on my way to a starring role at my old school; Heloise was in A/V, and I was sucking up to the drama teacher… and now we're suffering in a Toronto autumn. I kick a pinecone out of my path, and sigh. But, you know, when life gives you lemons… The vine plays in my head and I bop my head along to the silent jingle, then decide I'd rather listen to actual music than rain and stale memes. An earbud goes in, and I ignore the world for the rest of the walk home.
To Corinne's home, anyway. The basement and the twin beds that Auntie Alice and Aunt Kayla set up, and Corinne's old hockey gear: Home, sweet home. My thoughts drift back to the new school and the play. Maybe I can run lines with that guy. Baru? That's what he said his name was, right? Before that ice-goddess-looking-girl swanned over to drag me to Corinne and Heloise. She's gorgeous too. And can sing better than most of the cast, it sounded like… I wince again, thinking of the discordant mess of a dozen or so high schoolers mumbling along to Elizabethan folks songs. Maybe not being in it would be a boon, if I don't have to warble through that shitshow.
Whatever. I'm not really looking for new friends, or hobbies, or a boyfriend, no matter how cute certain Canadian theatre kids might be. My team's on tonight.
The second I get home, I slide into the crappy chair Auntie Alice helped me bring down. Had to pick between my monitor, keyboard, or chair, and… look, rainbow-backlit keys are half the gaming experience. At least my parents didn't hassle me over the C.P.U.; there's no way Aunt Kayla's old brick of a computer could run Internet Explorer, let alone any of the games I play. Mine warms up like a cat purring, the fan whirring to life and the elderly monitor flickering on.
Within a few minutes, a Spotify tab's open and synced to my earbuds, Discord's alive and updating me on what kind of bizarre conversations my friends had while I was gone, and League is loading up. No more Shakespeare, no more new school, no more divorcing parents, just me and the rainbow-backlit keys.
The next rehearsal is a week later, and heralds the beginning of small-group text reading. Which is hell on earth. I'm not so lucky as to be put with the cute guy I scoped out the first week, or Heloise or Corinne. Instead, the possibly-coked-up theatre teacher herds me and four other strangers off into a corner of the gym, and instructs us to start reading and trading off parts as we go.
"So! Who wants to do Orsino?" The tallest boy I think I've seen is the first to speak. He's… hard to look directly at; bright white skin, orange man-bun, electric pink shirt, and way too enthusiastic for three p.m. on a Tuesday. "I'm Fredrik Hämäläinen, by the way." He directs a Colgate-smile at me. Hamawhatnow…?
"Shut up, Freddy, we know who you are," the other tall boy grunts, brushing his finger over the page of an enormous copy of the play.
"She doesn't. What's your name?"
I don't like feeling like a shy fourth grader than some wannabe-popular-girl is trying to coax out of her shell, but my mouth dries under his intense stare. "I'm… Penelope."
"Penelope," he nods, then points at the bad-tempered guy and says, "that's Julio. Playing Malvolio."
'Julio' rolls his dark, hazelish eyes, and they kind of… don't stop moving. His left eye drifts like he's staring at something way off to his left while his right wanders over me. He says, "I'm legally blind, both eyes, don't ask me how many fingers you're holding up."
"Oh! Uh… okay…" I dart another look at his unfocused gaze, taking in his high cheekbones and chewed bottom lip, then look for the only other slightly-familiar face in our group. "You're Moiz, right?"
"Yeah." Moiz, who I'm guessing is the older brother of Baru, sits up from his half-reclined position against the concrete gym wall, then grabs my hand quickly before letting it go. I blink. Was that a handshake? "You and your sister just came over from… Germany?"
"Netherlands. We're cousins of Corinne," I explain for the fortieth time this week.
"Right, right. Ivy's… nevermind. Well, then you know who I am, and that's Bruno."
Bruno is scowling, his nose scrunched up and shifting the lense-less glasses he's wearing. He looks really out of place in a pink-dotted button down and brown slacks, squatting on the dusty floor of a high school gym. Maybe better suited to scowling at first year university students from his place as TA of some liberal arts course. I'm guessing from his too-cool-for-this aloofness that he's in twelfth grade.
"Hi," I offer. He seems unreceptive. Okay, then…
"Right! Orsino, who's up?" Freddy repeats. Everyone's silent. "Great, I'll do it."
That pretty much sets the tone for the whole reading. Julio steps up to do Malvolio when his character shows up, and Bruno is eager to read for Toby and occasionally Antonio. Freddy's Maria-voice makes my eyes water as I try not to laugh. Don't want to sound like a dying gerbil in front of people I just met. Julio and Bruno are markedly less amused, probably because they have to do a scene with her, and Moiz is happy to fill in wherever we're missing a role. Honestly, it's not as bad as I worried; either they're all great at sight-reading or native English speakers are also native in Ye Olde Bullshit Language. I try not to stumble too much, and Freddy and Moiz at least are sympathetic. Julio just seems tired, and I'm pretty sure Bruno already hates me.
It winds down eventually, and as Bruno informs me that his character's secret desire is that Toby doesn't actually love Maria, I suddenly remember I didn't do my 'homework.' I pack away my script, wave to Moiz and Freddy, and then start contemplating Viola while listening to an early RTC album. Bus pass is probably still jammed in a crevice of the offensively-beige main office, which means I'm walking again.
So she thinks her brother's dead, and then immediately dresses up like a guy? I consider my own arrival in Canada. Well, I'm not exactly throwing on a hoodie and sweats. If he saw me now, Dad would probably say something about how I'm conforming to beauty standards, and then Mum would shout at him. Pressing my lips together, I feel the last of the gloss I put on this morning. Or maybe I'm Viola, just putting on a different kind of armour. Fuck, this is so stupid. Just because I curl my hair sometimes doesn't mean I'm faking a front for some nefarious gain.
I kick another pinecone. Why are these everywhere?! Then again, I guess Viola kind of did it for survival. Shit must've been hard back then for women, especially if you didn't have a family. I'd probably do something really stupid if I thought Heloise was dead too. Maybe she's just trying to keep her head out of the water. Does that count as a secret desire? To survive? And to bone Orsino. Wow, what deep and intricate motivations.
I'll come up with something later.
- Julio -
I want to kill Bruno. I know I wrote it down, but let's be completely clear. If he and I are alone and there's a swingable shovel and a nearby flowerbed, he'll be six feet under faster than you can say 'Zounds.' That's a little Shakespeare joke, from me to you; it means 'Zeus's wounds.' Probably Hera-inflicted.
I was really into Percy Jackson when I was like ten, okay?
I've had shit luck with books lately, actually. Not enough to make me give in and let Blaire put on whatever new romcom-beach-read-fuckery she's cooked up this week on the bus, but… luck bad enough that I actually end up flipping through my Twelfth Night script at my desk before dinner. I can't decide what's more inconvenient; lugging around this piece of rebar masquerading as a book, or trying to jump to the exact right point in the audiobook to find my lines.
What think you of this fool Malvolio, doth he not mend?
Yes, and shall do, till the pangs of death shake him: Infirmity decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. I scowl. The fuck does that mean? The next Malvolio scene is a marked improvement, I... think? But I'm pretty confident I can detect exhausted sarcasm at this point. He's basically just being snarky about being forced to act like a butler. Is a steward a butler?
What kind of man is he?
Why, of mankind.
What manner of man?
Of very ill manner.
If Blaire and I were about four hundred years older, this actually sounds like a conversation we would have. But I guess I won't have any scenes with her unless she makes good on her promise to confiscate her brother's kneecaps. Nope, I'll be snarking at Cory. And also… I grimace, remembering Malvolio's eventual fate. How the hell am I supposed to wear some stupid costume and start making all those… uh, insinuations in front of everyone? It'll be so embarrassing. And if Blaire could also stop bringing up my very cringey, two-month crush on her... It's not even fair, since she's so shameless about her Daphne-thirst. How am I supposed to tease her back?
Speaking of.
"Julio, dinner," Leandro's muffled voice comes from my closed door. I purse my lips.
"Yep, coming."
Not to mention the Bruno situation. On second thought, I hope Blaire does go all mafia on him. Might make this whole thing two percent more bearable.
At dinner, Mom's practically tripping over herself to ask about the play. "Have you guys read it all yet? Are you memorizing your lines? Haiza must be excited, Leandro!"
I bite my fork to avoid answering for him. Yup, Haiza is over the moon to be Shakespeare-flirting with Lee. Which he might be able to tell if he paid literally any attention to anything ever.
"Yeah, she is! I think it's going good. Cory's doing it too, and she actually got a really big part. I'm sure there's loads of time to memorize, though. Mr. A said the show's in January."
"Did you get a haircut, Mom?" Our sister, Mel, is the only one of us noticing anything as usual. I think my excuse is slightly better than Leandro's, though.
"I did! What do you think?"
"It looks great," I volunteer brightly.
"Shut up, Jules." Lee elbows me and I inhale a grain of rice, and start coughing. "It actually does look nice, Mom."
"Thank you both," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Julio, how are you finding the play?"
By the C hallway. "It's fine so far. Bruno is… really annoying."
Mel makes a noise of agreement. "I don't envy you."
"I thought you liked Bruno!" Mom chimes in.
"I tried," Mel groans. "Belle got hella defensive whenever I bitched about him."
"Don't swear at the table."
"Sorry, Mom. Whenever I talked about how fucking annoying he is. But it's literally impossible. There is nothing likeable about Bruno Aiken."
"Izzat why you broke up?" Leandro asks through a mouthful of stir fry.
"Partly." She gets that defensive edge in her voice, and Lee takes his cue to drop it.
"You'll get to order Bruno around though, right? Once tech starts up?" I point out. "Like 'Back up until you hit the wall, then walk off the stage.'"
"I think there are limits to my power," Mel replies primly.
"Buuuullshit," Lee laughs. "When you got made tech head, you said, and I quote—"
"I meant—"
"And I quote, 'No one and nothing can stop me now! The grade nines will tremble before me, I will have full control over the entire death trap backstage, and I will create the greatest show ever beheld by anyone this side of the pond! I am all-powerful!'" Lee tosses in a cackle.
"I was excited," Mel bites off. "And I definitely didn't sound like the Wicked Witch of the West on helium."
"Okay, relax," Mom intervenes. "Leandro, don't tease your sister. Hermelinda, I'm sure you and tech crew will make it a great show. Do you have any new recruits?"
"Mm, one of the Dutch exchange students signed up."
"She's not a Dutch exchange student," Leandro corrects. "She's Cory's cousin. Er, which cousin is it? Heloise or Penelope?"
"Heloise. She dots her i's with hearts." Mel sounds vaguely amused. "First tech meeting's not for another couple of weeks. What are the Dutch like? Subservient? Fast learners?"
"Tall," I offer. That should get Mel going. At six feet, she's still the shortest of the three of us. Tied for last at least; she and Lee are the same height if you ask her. I think we've all got a big of a thing about our heights; Lee's on the basketball team, so I guess that's not a surprise. My height's probably the only part of myself I'm really proud of—after becoming a dude, anyway, I'm proud of it. Transitioning probably also saved my spine since I slouched to hell and back until I realized that a guy being six three got far fewer judgy stares from strangers. And then Mel… I dunno, likes to intimidate people.
Sure enough, Mel snorts. "Cory's tall, and she's five-nine. Anyway, I don't care what she looks like. Hopefully she can learn on the job, or at least stay out of my way."
I bet she'll care what you look like, though. Do they have homosexuals in the Netherlands? Shouldn't take long. If you're wondering, yes, it is actually super gross to be the brother of someone who literally has a reputation for turning girls gay with a single stare. Doesn't mean I won't laugh when this Heloise kid is tripping over herself around Mel, though. Well, if Mel gets to make Bruno's life hell, and Heloise makes Mel's life hell, and Blaire shuts up about Daphne for more than four seconds at a time… this could be the most decent year since I was too young to be clinically depressed.
Please leave me a review and let me know what you think!
~Akila
