Mrs. Barch has a look on her face that I’ve seen before. It’s the worst kind of déjà vu. In chem sophomore year whenever students were late to class, she’d lock the doors. The lab classrooms have glass sliding doors, so she’d just stand there, on the other side, staring at the students who were late. It was so terrifying that the few times I knew I wouldn’t be on time, I just ditched altogether.
Juliet, however, is staring right back at her. They look like they’re sending death beams through their eyes. I honestly think they might start catfighting right here in the auditorium, but then Juliet blinks and looks away. Rob has just come in.
She runs to him and throws her arms around his neck. Mrs. Barch seems flustered and goes over to the Belgian, who keeps nodding and smiling at whatever it is that she’s saying in low, hushed tones. She doesn’t seem concerned by his response, though. Maybe she thinks there’s a language barrier. Olivia was convinced he couldn’t speak English for the first two weeks they were dating. When Charlie asked her how she could possiblynot know, she just shrugged and said, “We don’t really talk that much. But I’m so into his hair.”
I glance over at Rob and Juliet. He’s holding her just like he was at Fall Back on Friday. Delicately, but firmly. Like she’s something that might break or run away.
“Okay, Banquo. You ready?” Mrs. Barch asks.
“Yep,” Rob says, releasing Juliet.
“Banquo?” I whisper to Len, who’s still just standing there. “Who’s Banquo?”
He picks up a script off the floor and flips through it. Then he hands it to me, pointing at a name.
Great, so he’s in the play too? Just what I need, to watch the two of them onstage for two months.
Mrs. Barch has directed them into position, but Rob isn’t paying attention. He’s just looking at Juliet. He looks incredulous, assuming I got the word right on the SATs. Like he can’t quite believe she’s there. With him.
When Rob and I were in the third grade, we used to play “one, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war” in the car. His hands were bigger than mine, and eventually he’d win, but we used to argue about whether it was against the rules to “hide” or not. Meaning, was I allowed to drop my thumb down by my fingers so he couldn’t catch me? Debates on the subject were usually settled with Rob’s mom buying us ice cream. But right now,above him, hidden in the wings, I can’t help but feel a little like my thumb. Like I’m hiding because I know the second I reveal myself, I will lose. And I’m just not ready for that.
“Hey,” Len says, “you still with me here? I could use a hand.”
I blink and look at him. The lights are coming up, and it’s easier to see now, which lucky for me makes him fully aware of the tears that are sliding down my cheeks.
“Yeah,” I say, swiping the back of my hand across my face. Len looks away and down at the stage, like he’s giving me some privacy.
“What happened?” he asks after a minute. He doesn’t take his eyes off Rob and Juliet, but something about his question makes me feel like he’s staring right into me. Like I can’t lie to him because he’s already seen the truth.
“We had a thing for a minute,” I whisper. “It didn’t work out.” I expect the confession to make me feel worse, but it doesn’t. It actually makes me feel a tiny bit better. Like a small weight has been lifted.
“Then he wasn’t your guy,” Len says. I glance at him. His jaw is set, and he looks stern. Even a little angry. It’s unnerving.
“I guess,” I say.
Len shakes his head. “You don’t get it,” he says. “If he walked away from you, to her, then he wasn’t yours.”
“How do you know?” I say. “What if he was and everything got screwed up?”
Len smirks. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Oh, really?” I say. “How does it work, then? Enlighten me.”
Len sighs, like he’s already frustrated. “Look, I don’t really know how else to put this. You don’t need to worry about some dumb guy falling in love with you. You’reyou.”
“Exactly,” I say. I’m me. Rose Caplet. Plain brown hair and brown eyes and the daughter of a history professor, not a senator. I’m not on magazine covers, and I don’t do allergy commercials. I don’t evendrive.
Len turns to me, and he’s looking at me so intensely, I think he might have just sucked the air out of my lungs. All of a sudden I feel like I can’t breathe. “Sometimes,” he starts, “the hardest part about letting someone go is realizing you were never meant to have them.”
His words hang in the air as Mrs. Barch dismisses the actors below. She cautions them to get their acts together before the next rehearsal. Juliet looks annoyed. The Belgian shrugs. Rob doesn’t seem to hear anything; he’s staring at Juliet.
I’m thinking about what Len just said, how he has it all wrong. Rob and I were meant to be together. This isn’t about letting go of him; it’s about balancing things back out. About righting whatever went completely wrong when Juliet stepped onto this campus.
Then, like it’s no big deal, Len stretches. “Looks like ourwork here is done.” He glances down to where Rob and Juliet are walking out of the auditorium, arm in arm. “Any fun weekend plans?” he asks me.
“No,” I lie. We’re going to Malibu. In fact, our stuff is already packed and we’re leaving right after I’m finished with this rehearsal, but I can’t tell Len. Charlie would kill me if I invited him. Not that I think he’d want to go. Besides Dorothy and Brittany, I’m not really sure who he hangs out with, but something tells me spending the weekend with Charlie, me, and Olivia isn’t high on his list.
“You should make some.” He grabs his backpack up by the handle. “Don’t let some guy stand in the way.”
