Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I do not own. This is entirely a work of fan fiction for personal amusement and fulfillment. I make nothing from this and own none of it.
Note: As we begin to enter a period of some time skips between chapters, things will start to progress a bit "off screen." Bear with me, here as part two is picking up pace.
Chapter Seventeen: As Euripides
September 28th, 2010
"Alright, alright, everyone," Mr. Keaton called, his voice rising slightly. The man placed his hands together as if in prayer. He's getting frustrated. Rachel glanced back around the room. Save for the absent Nathan Prescott (he had been absent a few times, lately) the theater classroom was packed to the brim with the cast, which was just slightly smaller than that of The Tempest's the year before. "You're getting antsy. I don't know why; the full moon was last week." Rachel couldn't help it: even through all the worries weighing her down she smiled. That was what she liked about Mr. Keaton: despite the "oh dear, I'm such a slow, calm old man" attitude he put on during school hours, once you joined his cast you got to see who Mr. Keaton was: sarcastic, quick and blunt. "So, once more, Titania and Oberon, take it from the top." Two quick, sharp claps rang throughout the room.
Rachel glanced sideways at the Oberon to her Titania. Chloe was not looking sideways at her, staring down at her book or even stealing glances that Rachel pretended not to see toward Max (who was looking rather grimly determined at the idea that the scene included her as Puck,) but at Dana who sat a row ahead of them with her book off to one side, doodling on a page of a notebook as she waited for a scene involving her. Rachel could understand why. Chloe had been shooting jealous glances at her since before they took their first break of the night, because for the first half of the play, Dana had already, by some herculean effort, memorized her lines. Rachel had to admit she was impressed, herself. Probably did a lot of reading ahead of time, Rachel pondered. Or maybe she's actually a Shakespeare fan. That wouldn't surprise me.
"Oberon," Mr. Keaton chided, though with a surprisingly gentle edge to his voice. I wonder, Rachel thought, if Chloe actually realizes how much he actually likes her or if she's too busy being jealous that someone is doing better than her at memorizing lines this fucking early. Rachel could admit that some of her exasperation was misplaced. There was more at work in the way of issues between her and Chloe than just Chloe's rather unreasonable insecurity about line memorization. What it really came down to was that Rachel was beginning to panic, herself about how distant Chloe was becoming with her. "Oberon, my dear," Chloe looked up suddenly, looking guilty. "As I did almost a year ago, I must ask you to save me. Please, take it from 'Ill met.'" Chloe nodded quickly. Rachel watched her out of the corner of her eye, aware that the bluenette was shooting furtive glances at her right back. To Rachel's left, Max turned inquisitive blue eyes on them. Rachel shot her a reassuring smile.
"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," Chloe greeted. Her voice did not deepen in an attempt to sound more masculine, she was embracing the "gender bent" aspect of the character but she did seem to speak more evenly and project more clearly from her usual speech patterns. Rachel doubted Chloe even realized she was doing it. While her experience with the Tempest had mostly been her being quick on her feet, Rachel could tell already that Chloe was a natural at this, not at all as she had been in the first weeks of her first production. The artist was looking pointedly at her. Rachel, on the other hand, did lower her voice slightly and as opposed to Chloe slowing her speech, Rachel spoke quickly even as she tried to keep her voice crisp.
"What, jealous Oberon!" Rachel feigned surprise and a little bit of frustration. "Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn her bed and company." Perhaps determined to put herself into the scene a little more or maybe thinking that it would help her in recalling her lines, Chloe turned more directly toward Rachel and she matched the gesture. Rachel watched with curiosity as her girlfriend's face smoothed out, becoming slightly more impassive looking (Chloe was anything but impassive, normally) and when she spoke next she truly spoke as a proud, royal being, a queen.
"Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lady?" Chloe shifted the emphasis in the altered line, drawing it away from "lady" to "thy." This was a simple enough change which made it easier to make the lines make sense when both of your the faerie leaders were queens but it wasn't something that everyone thought of instinctively. Chloe had not needed any kind of coaching and hadn't even really expressed the idea beforehand. She had just naturally adjusted the line and made it work. Chloe's impassive mask nearly shattered when Rachel grinned at her before responding.
"Then I must be thy lady: but I know when thou hast stolen away from fairy land and in the shape of Corin sat all day playing on pipes of corn and versing love to amorous Phllidia." If Rachel thought too much about that line, especially when applying it to her and Chloe, she would probably start thinking about something that would distract her pretty firmly from play practice. Keaton's already had to call me out once today, better not make it twice. " Why art thou here, come from the farthest Steppe of India? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love, to Theseus must be wedded, and you come to give their bed joy and prosperity." Rachel waited and then stifled a grin as Chloe half started to pull her script close to her and then, without breaking character in the least, stopped as if realizing she could remember the line after all.
"How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, glance at my credit with Hippolyta knowing I know thy love to Theseus?" The almost teasing tone of her first line faded, and Oberon was revealed for who he (or in this case, she,) was. Jealousy crept in that sounded almost real enough to concern Rachel if she hadn't already come to the conclusion that Chloe was not to be underestimated in her ability to act. I don't think she realizes that some days she's a better actress than I am. What a dick. "Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night from Perigenia, whom he ravished? And make him with fair AEgle break his faith, with Ariadne and Antiopa?" Rachel couldn't help but notice that Mr. Keaton had folded his hands in front of him and looked moderately amused as he stared down at the script in front of him. Multiple sets of eyes were on them, though that was natural enough when two people were reading opposite of each other.
They read opposite of each other for a short while longer yet. Max remained true to her character, Puck, and paid them exorbitant amounts of attention but did not speak until their interaction was almost through. When they had had their argument about the damage their argument was causing and even rehashing the cause of their argument, things calmed down. Maybe the reason she has so much trouble with that line, Rachel thought as Chloe leaned over her script and read 'Do amend it then-' is because she gets kind of out of her groove. I've got a really long winded bit right before. That idea inspired some amusement in her and if she thought about it long enough, Rachel figured she could come up with a fix for it. But first I need to figure out how to fix us, she thought, feeling concerned by the way Chloe did not match her eyes and had not all night.
"Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay." Rachel pushed her script away, perhaps because it was the closest she could get to turning and striding proudly and angrily from the stage. That should be fun. At that point, Keaton clapped his hands once more and declared them free for their final break of the night. Chloe was the first of them on her feet and Rachel actually had to hurry to catch up with her as she made for the door to the classroom. Max was several feet behind them. Rachel didn't want to think about what they might look like to the people still getting to their feet and preparing to stretch for the day.
"Hey, wait up," Rachel called. Chloe glanced back and slowed but her face didn't change. It was, Rachel was disturbed to see, not all that different from her 'in character' face as Oberon. Not good. Max joined them fairly quickly and the two of them fell in line behind Chloe, heading for the vending machines in the hall at a fairly leisurely pace. To say that Chloe had been getting distant from her was a little disingenuous. It was more like a mutual distance was growing and it made Rachel's stomach twist. I hate this. I want to fix it. For a second she shot a look to Max and she could tell by the concerned response splayed across Max's face that that look was a pleading one. She had not meant to let on just how upset she was. Rachel smoothed her face with an intent thought and paid attention as they reached the machines and Chloe began to dig change out of her pocket. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'll get over it," Chloe responded, instantly. She did not look at either of them as she retrieved a can of soda from the machine in front of her. "I just feel like I'm going to fuck it up."
"You're doing fine," Rachel told her. She reached out to pat the girl on the shoulder but the memory of just how long it had been since there was any physical closeness between them made her falter at the last second. Chloe did not even notice. "You're getting your lines at a perfectly reasonable pace and you emote better than half the people on the cast." When she glanced sideways at Max, the girl was shaking her head. What?
"Yeah, I guess," Chloe said and then she turned around to face them.
"I think it's time you bring your idea up to Mr. Keaton," Rachel told her, hoping the subject change would help matters. "If you wait too long, it'll be too late."
"She's right," Max replied. "Now's as good a time as any." The photographer did not look directly at Rachel or Chloe either one as she squeezed between them to get to the snack machine.
"I feel like I'm being double teamed," Chloe told them, though she was clearly trying to sound and act as if she was amused, judging by the lighter tone of voice and the raised eyebrow. Rachel nearly made a joke to the effect of 'not even in your dirtiest daydreams' but it would have been halfhearted. Chloe's mood was exceptionally lower this evening than recently, maybe a good night's sleep would make everything better? Fuck, I hope. Rachel wasn't quite at the point of 'irritated' yet but 'freaking the fuck out' was not far off. They had barely touched one another (even in the simplest of ways like a bump to the shoulder or a high five) in days and in Rachel's mind it had been even longer since the last time they had a deep conversation.
Break had technically been over for about a minute and a half by the time that Rachel, Chloe and Max sat back down. Chloe immediately went back to staring at her script despondently. No, Rachel said. The rest, fine, we need to work shit out. But she doesn't need to just sit there upset. As Mr. Keaton looked like he was preparing to call them to order Rachel decided to make her move. Hopefully, she'll just roll with it, she thought.
"Mr. Keaton?"
"Yes, my dear?" Keaton responded, fixing green eyes upon her with a raised eyebrow.
"Chloe's had an idea about the play and I really think you should hear it," she said, trying her best to sound deferential and assertive all at once. Rachel could almost swear she heard Chloe stiffening up beside her. "It's a really good idea." To Rachel's left, Max nodded, encouragingly. Chloe shot her a look that expressed discomfort and a bit of frustration but when Keaton gestured imperiously for her to rise, Chloe stood. That's my girl.
"Well," Chloe said, then glanced around the room at the assembled cast as if realizing that people she did not or had not spoken with at any length as well as people like Eliot, who no longer spoke in her presence outside of reading his lines, were watching. "Um," Rachel reached over and despite the distance between them pressed her hand against Chloe's arm. Just barely, so lightly that it might have been in Rachel's imagination, Chloe leaned into the touch. She hoped she wasn't imagining that. "So, Rachel, Max and I were watching this Romeo and Juliet film from the 90s."
"Ah yes," Keaton said. "I am familiar with it."
"Then for people who aren't, they keep the script normal but the setting and everyone's clothing are modern for the time. It's kind of gritty and the Capulets and Montagues are basically warring mafia families." A couple of voices raised to suggest that they had seen it. Rachel rolled her eyes that there were not more: the school's English teacher (a kind, if quiet lady named Bernadette Hoida who was excitedly awaiting her first child) showed the film in most of her general English classes. "I was thinking, what if we went for something like that but expanded it a little more." Mr. Keaton waited for her to clarify and Chloe did not immediately respond. Rachel saw her searching. Shit, now I know something's bad. If Chloe doesn't have the words, she's not doing okay.
"She was thinking," Rachel said, after she saw Chloe throw a look of some panic at her, "that maybe we could portray the setting and the characters in a sort of modern, alternative light. A lot of the storylines in A Midsummer Night's Dream remain fairly relatable today with only a bit of turning your head and squinting." Chloe slowly sat down, as if afraid Mr. Keaton would bark for her to stay standing. As if he'd ever say a word against his 'rising prodigy.' The thought would make Rachel smile if she weren't trying to sell the idea for Chloe's sake. A couple of voices sounded in another part of the room but Rachel tuned them out. "You know, alternative as in alternative styles and expressions of identity." Mr. Keaton tented his fingers, humming in the back of his thought. "I mean, our fairy kingdom is already run by an on-the-outs lesbian couple," she said, her tone thoughtful. "What if instead of big flowing dresses or worse while traipsing through a woods, maybe they're dressed in dark colors and leather in the 'wilderness' of a large city? Or on the edge of a park?" Rachel turned to Chloe, who responded with an appreciative smile. "That was your idea, right?"
"Yeah," Chloe agreed, finding her voice a bit. "What if most of our cast is just people from all different walks of life trying to survive life, while the authority figures dress serious and strict? The set could be city streets, maybe a city park like Rachel said and extravagant dining rooms, things like that." Rachel glanced over at the artist and had to admit that now that she had taken the pitch back over she was practically glowing. This is better. This is the way Chloe should look and feel all the time. Chloe was making a point to Mr. Keaton, who was listening intently despite the muttering growing around them. She looked pleased with herself, at ease. Rachel felt pleased with herself, too, at the sight, like a small fire was burning in her belly.
"So, the only question I have," Dana said, drawing attention away from either Rachel or Chloe, just a bit. "Is can we make that work as well in a play production as it did in film? Even if we go all alternative with it, we've only ever had one or two backdrops for a set." Rachel nodded, though it was mostly reflexive as no one was looking at her. As it should be, they were looking either at the director (Mr. Keaton) or the girl who had suggested it to begin with.
"Totally," Chloe said. "How much more difficult would it be to paint a busy city road than a forest clearing or some high-scale place for Theseus and Hippolyta to get up to their thing instead of an old Greek palace?" Dana pulled a thoughtful face and then made a gesture somewhere between a shrug and a nod. "And making our costumes more modern would be the easy part. It's making them fit the characters, figuring out how the characters would dress and express themselves in this time that would be difficult and that's where most of the work goes."
"So what about the costumes, then?" Hayden asked, "I mean you have some really cool potential for the fairy queens and their servants, but what about the rest of us?"
"Oh," Chloe said, and she momentarily rubbed at her neck as if caught off guard or embarrassed. "Well, I mean, it comes down to your character right? I mean, you're kind of a big deal in your area Demetrius." Hayden grinned, and gestured for her to continue. "Just like, what do you think your character would look like if he was living in like, New York? San Francisco?-" ("You would know better than us," Eliot muttered from the back. No one laughed.) "-Los Angeles?" Rachel watched the boy consider it for a second.
"I kind of get the feeling Demetrius would be kind of jock-y," he said and then leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. "Like, I could see him as a senior in high school with a varsity letterman jacket and stuff." Rachel watched, amused as Chloe snapped her fingers and shot a finger gun Hayden's way. Quietly a person began to whisper to another here or maybe conversed more openly there.
"Dude, I think that's a killer idea," Steph said, drawing Rachel's attention for the first time in a few minutes. She does like to think when she has her chance. Rachel tried not to think about the fact that Steph 'thinking' usually meant that the option of death was firmly present for her tabletop character. She turned toward the girl and caught her running her hand through her hair in contemplation. "So like, in my case, I feel like my character would be best off dressed like, really plainly. Solid, kind of plain colors and everything." This sparked a few more mutterings. Rachel relaxed. Leave it to Steph to sound positive enough to make others feel positive about an idea.
When Keaton called for a vote on the idea a few minutes later, only two people did not vote for the idea. Brooke abstained, noting that she was still not sure about the idea, mostly due to not being sure what she could do for her character, even if she generally liked the concept. Eliot, on the other hand, was predictable. With his buzzcut and his newfound dislike of both Chloe and Rachel, he was somewhat reminiscent of a miniature David Madsen. He even scoffed like the man when asked what his major objection was.
"It's just," he said, then sighed as if stressed by the question. "It's like we're trying too hard to be special and edgy." Rachel kept her voice even and casual as she replied, her meaning obscured to all but the people on either side of her.
"I don't know, I don't think it's edgy." Rachel leaned back in her chair and pressed against Chloe's side, briefly. Chloe didn't move away and Rachel had to admit she needed the contact. "I mean, if we were trying to be edgy we'd just go around and throw red paint on everything like we thought it was blood." Eliot did not reply. To quote Chloe, Rachel thought as he fell silent and turned back to his script, 'get fucked, scrub.' She felt a little warm when she saw Chloe grinning broadly, proudly at her. Eliot grumbled from the back of the room. No one spoke up as if to change their vote. Booyah! Okay, okay. Chloe and Max have definitely rubbed off on me. Rachel did her best not to giggle or chuckle as Keaton announced that they would talk about character designs with this 'new vision' next time. Chloe looked satisfied.
In a way, spending the rest of practice hand in hand with a smug Chloe was satisfying. She even performed better, spending less time reading from her script. On the other hand the closeness and connection only underlined how different they had been over the last few days. Judging by the conflicted look on Max's face, she had similar thoughts. She's been quiet all fucking night, Rachel realized at one point, turning toward the brunette. Max looked tired but her silence was exceptionally out of character. What's wrong? In this way, she spent most of the rest of practice watching and worrying about the photographer. If she caught Rachel staring in curiosity, Max would look away rather quickly.
Eventually, though, the two of them found themselves watching Chloe drive away. Rachel's sense of being disturbed by their apparent distance had returned in a big way. It was enough, she told herself, that she was tempted to talk to Max about it. There was just one little problem. Despite the fact that Max had been back in town less than a full month, the past two weeks had forced the two of them significantly closer together than Rachel ever expected to get to Max. It was hard to put into words why this had happened, much less so quickly, but Rachel was not daft. It was obvious that Max harbored some feelings for Chloe and obvious to Rachel that Chloe was beginning to develop some for her. It didn't drive Rachel to jealousy. Instead, she was more confused than anything. If she was honest with herself, she was not thinking about the photographer as one typically thought of a friend, either. I mean, we spend hours together every day so I guess it makes a kind of sense that it came on so fast.
Beside her, Max was quiet as they started back toward the dorms, as if in deep thought. I just don't know precisely what words to put to it. She just has these things about her, about the way she acts, the things she says, the way she's so open about caring about us both. I don't think normal friendship should make your heart rate pick up and I'm sure it doesn't make you consider how she would react if you tried to kiss her. Rachel sighed and it was apparently loud enough to draw a worried glance. Christ, and I can't tell if I'm reading in too much to everything she says or does, or if she's into me too. All of it had come on too quickly and that, more than anything, was what was stressing things between her and Chloe. No one had figured out how to talk about it yet and that included Rachel.
Either way, I can't talk to Max about it. 'Hey, Max, do you have a crush on my girlfriend? What about me? I think she's got one on you and I'm kind of worried she's going to leave me. Oh, and I kind of want to back you against the wall and see if I can make you turn six shades of red without doing or saying anything.' She felt a bit warm at the thought and decided to bury it next to her frustration and concern. As every other time she had considered the drama threatening to grow between them, this was 'not the moment' to confront it. It definitely wasn't the moment to worry about that last part.
"I think it's a night for some Netflix binging," Max said. Rachel raised an eyebrow at her. She had been rather tired all day but if she really thought she was down for it, who was Rachel to argue? It took Max a second to dig her key out of her pocket, but Rachel wasn't exactly in a rush. Whether it was ideas relating to Chloe's reimagining of the play or her worries about the-is it a triangle or something else?-predicament between her, Chloe and Max, she was wide awake and rather deep in thought.
Max's room was interesting: photos covered most of the wall above Max's bed and there were a couple of posters but for the most part the walls were left clear and their standard color. Her desk was fairly neat with books and a notebook stacked on one side, a laptop and a USB mouse on the other, the mini-fridge sat beside the computer desk and her closet door stood open, revealing shirts and sweatshirts of mostly neutral or earthy colors. Among these was her favored grey hoodie. Rachel knew that it was important to her because, despite it baring a spot of blood that the three of them knew came from a horrible moment in their past, she wore it once or twice a week at the least. Max reached over as the door shut behind them and shifted the pillow on her bed. Rachel settled her bag beside the door and let Max retrieve her laptop.
"Over there?" Max asked, gesturing to the bed. This was, perhaps in retrospect, not unusual. It was fairly easy to set their backs against the wall and stretch out their legs on the bed, resting the laptop on them. They had done it several times. Tonight, perhaps especially after confronting the ideas dancing around in her head about the photographer, Rachel hesitated at first. Max did read the hesitation but, Rachel was amused to see, seemed not to know precisely what it was about. Oh bullshit, she wanted to say. You know exactly what's on my mind. Sometimes, Rachel was fairly sure Max did.
Eventually, though, she was sitting on the outside of the bed, a good inch or so between her and Max. They weren't cozied up or anything, there was nothing intimate about it. It was pragmatism, since the laptop was balanced across her right knee and Max's left. On the screen, some English actors around their age were partying in a scene from a comedy/drama called Skins. Among the characters pictured was a bottle blonde who reminded Rachel more than a little of Chloe. She kind of wanted to introduce the girl to the show. They might have knocked out two episodes before a very, very faint snore reached Rachel's ears.
Rachel stole a look at the girl beside her. Max was still sitting almost straight up but her eyes were shut. Her chest rose and fell slowly, evenly. She was damn sure unconscious. In this state, she did not look worried about anything. She did not look upset or even tired. She looked peaceful. A small smile stole upon Max's face in sleep. What I wouldn't give to be the one able to see peoples' dreams. She wanted to laugh at how little she had thought of Chloe's apparent ability to see into others' minds at night. As if that's the normal thing and some teenagers having awkward feelings for each other is weird. When she realized that her eyes were lingering too long on Max, she slowly reached out and shifted the laptop from lying on both of their knees to resting on her own.
Max didn't stir until Rachel shut the laptop and got up from the bed. Then the girl rolled sideways, eyes opening just slightly. Small slits of blue became visible and Max might have groaned at being woken up or attempted to mumble a question. Rachel wasn't sure which, but she motioned for Max to lay down, telling her she had fallen asleep. For a moment she expected an argument but then the brunette closed her eyes, hair wild around her face as she sighed and adjusted her position on the bed. When she was laying down properly, Rachel saw herself out. The mental image of Max, at rest and at peace, with that small smile stuck around as Rachel made her way to her own room.
Houston, we definitely have a problem.
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