I hesitate, but then I just say it. ‘I got the impression I was getting on your nerves.’
‘Getting on my nerves?’ Val echoes. He sounds so disbelieving that I feel ridiculous. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Yes, I . . . I’m sorry, maybe I overreacted. But you were only talking to your friends and . . .’
‘Tori, I was at that ball with you.’ He looks so intently at me that my heart skips a beat, and he takes my hand. ‘I didn’t give a fuck about anyone else.’
He says it so sincerely that it has to be true. Even if it didn’t feel like that on Saturday evening. His eyes rest heavily on me.
‘Hell, Tori, I kissed you. Did you really think after that I wanted to spend time with the guys and not with you?’
I can only shrug my shoulders.
‘Didn’t you like it?’
‘Yes,’ I assure him hastily. ‘It was . . . it was nice.’
‘Nice,’ Val repeats. A mocking smile twitches at his full lips. ‘Know what? I found itnicetoo, Victoria Belhaven-Wynford. Next time, I’ll show you a step up from nice.’
I shiver slightly, but I smile. ‘Deal.’
Liar.
‘I was worried, got that?’ he says again, as he puts his arm back around my shoulders and we walk towards the classrooms. ‘You suddenly vanished in the middle of the night. What kind of boyfriend would I be if that didn’t bother me?’
Boyfriend.
Smile. He’s perfect. There’s your proof. He can be so affectionate and attentive. He wants the best for you and how do you thank him?
I walk next to Val in silence. I flinch as Neil walks past and slaps Val on the shoulder. He doesn’t let me go, which I guess should please me.
‘So, got your lines for the auditions then?’ A couple of others in the upper sixth join in the laughter.
‘Definitely,’ says Val. My stomach lurches slightly because his voice is so derisive. ‘Doing Shakespeare with those losers? Who’d choose to make a tit of themselves in front of the whole school like that?’
The others laugh some more and I feel a little cold.
My brave side wants to say that the performances in the last few years have been anything but cringy. Seriously. Each version was intelligent and gripping, and the cast did a great job every time. Every year, I’m amazed yet again at how Mr Acevedo manages to put on a polished performance in just afew months. And that each year interpretsRomeo and Julietin a completely new way. Because it’s the one thing Mr Acevedo insists on: every upper sixth puts on the same play and makes it their own. Maybe it’s not normal that I’ve spent years imagining that next time around it could be me standing on that stage as Juliet. That this could be my chance to have a go a year earlier than expected. Even if I didn’t get picked for Juliet, I could at least get experience for our form’s play next year. I’m not under any illusions that I’d get the main role, because that’s definitely Eleanor’s.
‘We should go along to the auditions.’ Val removes his arm from my shoulders as we stop outside his classroom. ‘Sure to be entertaining.’
‘I’ll bring the popcorn,’ says Neil, although nobody else laughs.
‘I was actually considering having a go,’ I say.
‘What?’ Val stares at me in disbelief. ‘You’re not serious? You can’t mean it. Those plays are lame, everyone knows that. Especially last year’s. What even was that?’
‘I thought it was pretty cool,’ I murmur, remembering the modern staging, which had stuck in my mind all summer long. The performance had really got to me, and I know that my friends felt the same. Sinclair was so impressed that he’s been part of the scriptwriting club ever since. It suits him. Storytelling and drama are in his blood. Hardly surprising, the number of films and series he devours. And I know from Sinclair that the rehearsals for this year’s performance have been held up because the writers can’t agree on the script. Normally, casting starts in late autumn so there’s plenty of time to get ready for a performance just before the summer holidays.
‘It was freaky,’ says Val. ‘When everyone came on wearing those masks and screamed. I mean, what was that?’
The others laugh. I don’t join in but I don’t argue back either.
‘Besides, you’re not into acting,’ says Val. ‘Are you?’
If only he knew how much I’d like to change that. But I’m afraid of talking to him about it. Luckily for me, Ms Ventura comes round the corner at that moment and shoos the lads off to class. I should be heading to English too, which kicks off my week. We’ve had Mr Acevedo since Mr Ward left the school and he might be less strict, but he won’t put up with lateness.
Val leans down. ‘See you later,’ he mumbles. The others catcall as he kisses me.
