Thank God it’s dark, because my face instantly goes red. I can feel the heat creep up my neck like water rising in a bathtub.
“Um, yeah. Didn’t you used to take lessons or something?”
Len crosses his arms. It’s dark, but I can see the edges of a smirk. “Keeping tabs on me, Rosaline?”
“You wish.”
“Don’t worry. I remember,” he says, handing me a red slide. “Here, take this.”
“You do?”
“I may be—what do you call me? Vile?—but I’m not an idiot.” I see something flit across his face. Like the sunset of a smile.
“I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t say that.”
Len looks amused. “No? Must have been one of your minions.” He picks up a metal clamp and then sets it back down. “So what happened?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I just stopped playing. I got busy with school, and it was hard to find the time to practice.”
Len shakes his head. “No. Not with piano, with him.”
“Oh.” I fiddle with the red slide. I put my hand underneath. It looks sort of distorted, like it’s under one of those gigantic microscopes I used to have when I was little, to look at bugs. “I dunno.”
“Here.” He takes the slide out of my hands and slips it onto a light. Then he turns the light on. Immediately a spot on the stage is illuminated. It startles Juliet, and she curses, looking up.
“It’s kind of like playing God,” I say.
“Exactly.” He hands me a green slide and helps me set it in place. Juliet jumps again.
“I like this,” I say.
“I can tell. You have it out for Lady Macbeth, huh?”
I shrug. “She’s my cousin.”
He flips on a blinding yellow spotlight, and Juliet throws her hands up in the air. “Doesn’t really answer my question.”
Len stays perfectly still, looking at me. He looks different when he isn’t busy smirking at me. He reminds me of one of those marble sculptures we’re always reading about in history class. Even his curly hair looks kind of like theDavid’s. Who would have guessed that Len is actually kind of handsome?
I hunch my shoulders and blow some air out through my lips, biding time. “She’s fine,” I say.
“Convincing,” Len says, but he doesn’t move.
Down below, the Belgian looks bored and he’s bouncing slightly, like he’s listening to music. Actually, he is. I see the small snake of white wire that runs up to his ears. His AirPods are in, and every time Mrs. Barch shouts something at them, he looks at Juliet. Which is actually a good bet, because she seems to be taking this incredibly seriously.
“This doesn’t feel authentic,” Juliet says, her hands on her hips.
“I agree,” Mrs. Barch says. “I’m needing more from you.”
“From me?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Barch says, nodding. “You’re not feeling it.”
“I am feeling it,” Juliet snaps. “I’ve already played this role. Twice.”
“Well, our productions are really closer to community theater than a high school performance.”
“Community theater isn’t even good,” Juliet says, “and thisisa high school performance. I’ve donecommercials.”
