"I didn't like it. It could have been a lot better," Nico said.
"Better? It's Romeo and Juliet," Kayla glared at him.
"I have to agree with her. It's Shakespeare. What is this better you speak of," Yan said.
"No it's not. He didn't write that."
Yan spit out his soda. "Shakespeare didn't what?"
"He sometimes covers for Aiakos. He told me that he wasn't the one who wrote it."
"Of course he wrote Romeo and Juliet!"
Nico looked at Yan. How could he still believe that when Nico had heard otherwise from the source.
"Who's Aiakos," Kayla asked.
"One of Zeus's sons that preside over the judgement of the dead. He's the one that's actually nice and not just pretending."
"Anyway," Will said. "I agree with Nico. What if there was a version where they didn't kill themselves and live long enough to see their parents get their act together?"
"Yeah but no one's gonna read that. There's no drama, no angst, no sword fights."
"Someone might. It would be a slow burn introspection about living life on your own terms, with emphasis on character development and individuality."
"Romeo and Juliet killed themselves and it didn't make their problems go away. That's not romantic," Nico insisted.
"You're ruining it," Kayla said. She hugged her copy of the play to her middle.
"Come on, Kayla. Nico's allowed to have a different opinion."
"As long as we all agree that Shakespeare actually wrote it," Yan said.
"But Will, I hadn't finished it," Kayla said. Tears filled her eyes. "Do they really die?"
"Is it really that important, Nico," Will said quickly before addressing Kayla. "They do. Nico didn't mean to spoil it for you. It's just a story. No one actually got hurt, okay?"
"Will, I don't like book club anymore," Kayla whispered.
"Oh gods, why don't we move on to Wuthering Heights next week since this is too controversial?"
"Is that Emily or Charlotte?"
"I thought was Anne. Everyone forgets about Anne but she wrote Wildfell Hall."
"Charlotte wrote Jane Eyre. Emily wrote Wuthering Heights under the pseudonym Ellis Bell."
"Emily Bronte was trans? I thought that was new," Kayla asked.
"Well no, I mean... maybe. Things were different back then. Sometimes a woman had no choice but to pretend she was a man. It was just the way things were," Will told her.
"That's not true. Mary Shelley didn't have to pretend," Yan said.
Will laughed. "We are not ready for a discussion about Mary Shelley. Can we get back on Romeo and Juliet?"
"You mean the play that William Shakespeare 100% did actually write?"
"Yan, you have to let it go too, okay?"
"I'm bored," Kayla yawned. "That clock says 42."
"It does. We need to get rid of it. Even a broken clock should be correct twice a day," Will said. He got up and swept the clock into the trash.
Kayla took it back out and shook it around. "If you do this, it says 4:20."
Yan laughed. "Four-twenty."
"Guys, we're supposed to be discussing Romeo and Juliet," Will reminded them.
The window next to Yan was already shattered but intact. He reached over and knocked the broken glass free. "Look Will. We can act it out too. What light through yonder window breaks?"
"Hilarious. Maybe next week we can stay on topic."
"I don't want to read Wuthering Heights. I'm only here for the extra credit," Yan said.
"You're going to have to read it for your pre-Lit class," Will pointed out.
"I don't need pre-Lit. The guy who coaches for the Starlings has already been scouting."
"I guess you're right. If you just want to come by after the session, I could just sign off on your log that you attended the course and Chiron will be none the wiser."
"You'd do me a solid like that? I don't care what Drew Tanaka says: You're alright."
"Sure. Wait, what does Drew Tanaka say about me?"
"She's Drew Tanaka. She talks about everyone," Yan said.
"Yeah. I'll do it for you. Watch those hamstrings of yours. I wouldn't want you to tear one of them again and ruin your career before it even starts."
"Nice doom signalling but I'll take my chances."
That evening, Nico returned to his father's cabin. Will lingered in the corridor.
A Wright Flyer had joined the ranks of model planes. A Boeing 787, a Submarine Spitfire and Nico's favorite: the B-21 Raider. They all lined the window sill and the ledge beneath it.
Nico added a Roman Tetradrachm and an Italian Lire from 1934. He added a second Lire from 2023. Eighty-nine years distance. It seemed impossible; surreal even.
He placed a communion wafer next to the rosary. He took out three small bottles and added them to the display. Olive oil for annointing, balsamic for flavor and prosecco for Mass; all of them imported from Venice.
"I want them to know that someone actually lived here once," he told Will as they were leaving.
"Do you ever think about moving back in?"
"No," he answered immediately. He reflected on the deeper silence within; the cavernous walls and empty spaces. "Every time I go in I can feel his cruelty," he said, looking back one last time.