He looks over his shoulder to where I stashed the Globe Theatre on my shelf. Well, whatever we built so far. “I see ourprecious theater still stands. It would be demolished if it was in my room.”
“If you can even call it a theater,” I joke. “We still have so much work to do on it. I thought we could finish the project in a week. Sheesh, was I wrong.” I grab my ketchup potato chips and rip the bag open.
“A week?” He whistles as he digs into his chocolate pretzels. “That would be impressive even for you. But honestly, I’m glad it’s taking us so long to get it done.”
I wait for him to explain why, but he grabs hisRomeo and Julietand starts flipping through the pages to find a good scene. Does he mean he’s glad because the project is giving us a chance to hang out and get to know each other again? Because I feel the same way.
“Want one?” I ask, holding up a red potato chip.
He gapes at me. “Is Raven Mitchell actually sharing her most sacred potato chips with me? I could have sworn she would have devoured the entire thing by now.”
“Going once, going twice…”
“Okay.” He chuckles as he accepts it from me. “Thanks. And here is a chocolate pretzel for you.” He hands it to me.
“Thanks.”
He chews on the potato chip thoughtfully, and then shrugs. “Not my favorite.”
I give him a look. “Like I’d care about the opinion of someone who loved those disgusting camp candies.”
He bursts out laughing. “Okay, okay. Touché. But I think I have good taste in other areas.”
“Name one.”
“Music? Last I checked, I think I found a certain song quite alluring. Too bad the writer refused to come forward. I had to use my poor, overworked brain to figure it out all on my own.”
“Wow, she sounds like a complete nightmare.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What makes you so sure it’s a she?” He gasps with exaggeration. “Raven Mitchell, do you by any chance know who the writer is?”
“You’re such a dork, Kylen.”
He laughs again. “As long as I make you laugh, it’s all good.”
We both smile as we focus on finding the perfect scene to perform. I don’t know the play by heart, and I don’t think Kylen does, either, so we have our work cut out for us.
“We can choose one of the more iconic scenes everyone knows,” he suggests. “Maybe the balcony scene? ‘It is the east, and Juliet is the sun,’” he quotes in his terrible British accent. “Or maybe we can go with the tomb scene, though I’m not sure if we should focus on their deaths.”
“Hmm…Yeah, I think I’d rather focus on when they were alive.”
“So the balcony scene, even though it’s cliché?” He flips through the pages until he finds it. “‘O, that I were a glove upon that hand. That I might touch that cheek.’”
“You might just kill people with that terrible accent,” I tease.
He mimics stabbing himself in the heart and falls back in his seat. “Maybe we should do the death scene after all, since you just killed me.”
I can’t help but laugh again.
He sits up with a grin. “Fifty more points for me.”
I cover my mouth with my hand and turn away, suddenly embarrassed by my laugh.
“No, don’t be embarrassed!” he says. “I told you I love your laugh. I’ll stop teasing you about it.”
“But then I’ll have to stop teasing you about your terrible British accent.”
“I actually like when you tease me about it.” He flips through more pages. “‘Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.’”
