‘Have we got an understudy for Juliet?’ I ask. ‘I saw Grace. She didn’t eat either. I think she could play Juliet if I sat in the front row to prompt her.’ None of them speaks. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘We need Grace as the Nurse. Nobody can replace her,’ Mr Acevedo says.
I gulp. ‘OK, yes. Then . . . How about . . .?’
‘Victoria, you can play Juliet.’
I laugh. ‘Yeah, right. What I was going to say was, how about Jennifer? She probably doesn’t know the script as well as Grace, but . . .’
‘Victoria, you can play Juliet,’ Mr Acevedo repeats, stressing every individual word. That’s the moment I realize he means it.
‘What?’ My voice sounds two octaves too high. ‘No.’
‘Yes, Victoria. Nobody knows the play as well as you.’ Mr Acevedo glances at his watch. ‘We’ve got two hours. Get into costume and make-up, and then you can both come up to me to go through the key scenes before—’
‘No!’ He doesn’t get it. I start to shake. ‘Please, sir, I can’t. I can’t play Juliet and—’
‘Yes, you can.’ Charlie stands up.
I draw back as he comes towards me, and lift both hands because my heart is suddenly hammering. The idea is so absurd that part of me still hasn’t taken in what Mr Acevedo just suggested. Another part of me is going up in flames.
‘You know the whole script, seeing how often we’ve rehearsed together.’
‘No. Absolutely no way, Charlie.’
‘Tori.’ He reaches for my hands and I want to run because there’s something so final in his face. Louis, behind him, is nodding. Olive too. She looks way too excited. Happy-excited. Mr Acevedo, on the other hand, looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I understand that feeling perfectly well, but just now I mainly feel panic.
‘Look at me.’ Charlie’s hands are cool but I won’t let him calm me down. My fear is justified. I can’t play Juliet. So there won’t be a play. I don’t care. OK, I do care – we’ve put so much time and energy into this, it would be a disaster if it can’t go on, but that would be better than me standing on that stage, making a fool not just of myself but of the whole drama club, Mr Acevedo included. There’s no way he can want that!
‘No, I’m not looking at you, and I’m not playing Juliet either.’ My voice is trembling. That’s proof positive there’s no way I can speak in front of all those people.
‘Yes, you are,’ Charlie says. Why does he sound so calm? His thumb is stroking the back of my hand. ‘You can play Juliet, andI’ll be Romeo. And we’ll pretend we’re in the bakery. Just the two of us, OK? We’ve rehearsed together, and it was always great.’
I shake my head silently and my eyes start to sting.
Shit.
I bite my bottom lip in the hope that the pain will distract me from bursting into tears.
‘Tori,’ Charlie repeats. He’s smiling. He has to stop. I don’t want to calm down and I don’t want to play Juliet. I don’t want to be here at all. He kisses me. ‘“Your mouth has cleansed my lips from sin,”’ he says, in his Romeo voice. In my head, I’m answering him as Juliet. It’s like a reflex action.
‘“Then give it back to me,”’ I whisper.
‘Yes, I can see it – it’s going to be great.’ Mr Acevedo claps his hands; Charlie smiles and squeezes my fingers. I’m relatively certain he’s dying of nerves, but he’s trying not to show it. ‘Get into the costume and come back here for make-up. You’ll be amazing, Victoria, I believe in you.’
Wonderful. So nothing can possibly go wrong, then.
I’m on the verge of hysterical laughter as Mr Acevedo scurries out of the room, like an agitated hen. ‘I’ll inform the others,’ he says, over his shoulder as he goes.
My knees are like jelly as Charlie looks at me again.
‘I . . . I have to sit down,’ I mumble.
Louis immediately grabs a chair and pushes it over to me.
‘Hey.’ Charlie crouches in front of me as I let myself sink back into it. ‘You’ve been at every rehearsal. You know the script.’
‘You don’t understand, it’s not just about the script. It’s about the acting. I’m no actor!’
