I thought of the scene I’d witnessed at lunch, Alex giving that come-hither look to all and sundry. Flirting for tater tots, or his own twisted amusement, while the wreckage of my friendship with Anjuli smoldered in the background. He was what he’d always been, a destructive force wrapped in a deceptively appealing package.
“Here’s the thing about Alex Ritter,” I began.
“The one in real life?” Lydia cut in.
“Yes. Two years ago—”
“When he was a sophomore,” Arden supplied.
I nodded, accepting her math, though he’d seemed much older to me at the time. “It was during rehearsals forAntony and Cleopatra. The play,” I added, to forestall the possibility of further confusion.
“He was Antony?” Arden guessed.
“He would have been, but everyone was worried he’d upstage Cleopatra in the looks department, so they made him the understudy. Unfortunately, that left a lot of free time for him to hang around backstage.”
“Uh-oh.” Ice cubes rattled as Arden swirled the dregs of her drink.
Lydia gave her a look. “Like you know where this is going.”
“Hush.” Arden put a finger to her lips. “Go ahead, Mary.”
“First the stage manager and the girl playing Octavia got into a huge screaming match. The next day it was the attendants, Charmian and Iras. Every time he talked to someone, they came away thinking Alex was in love with them. It was madness. Even the Clown got involved, despite the fact that she had a very serious boyfriend. Who happened to be running lights for the show.” I raised my eyebrows, letting them imagine the fallout from that little wrinkle.
“Wow.” Arden rested her chin in her hand. “What else, Mary? I can tell there’s more.”
She was right, but part of the story involved me being foolish and ignorant, which was not the image I wanted to present. Even the fact that I remembered the whole thing so clearly was probably a sign I needed to get out more, and yet the mental snapshot stubbornly refused to fade.
Let me guess, you’re Juliet.That had been his opening line.
Most afternoons that fall had seen me hanging around the theater, fetching and carrying for my sisters. It was inevitable our paths should cross; what I didn’t expect was for him to engage me in conversation.
Naturally I lit up like a candle. It was the first time a boy had paid attention to me in that playful, noticing way. He thought I was not only an actress butJuliet?The thrill dimmed slightly when it occurred to me why he might have singled me out. It wouldn’t be the first time an actor had attempted to improve his casting by currying favor with the twins—or a member of their immediate family.
“I’m afraid you’re not the right kind of Romeo,” I gently informed him. It was no secret the next Baardvaark production was going to beRomeo and Juliet.Fewer people were privy to the fact that it was slated to have an all-female cast.
He pressed both hands to his chest, mock groaning. “Stabbed in the heart.”
“Actually, Juliet’s the one who stabs herself. Romeo takes the poison.” I mimed drinking from a vial.
It was only after I’d been called away on an errand that I realized he’d meant something else. By then it was too late to explain that a) I hadn’t meant he was the wrong kind of Romeo formepersonally and b) I was a glorified stagehand, not the leading lady. And while the twins sometimes solicited my opinion on casting decisions, I would never throw my weight behind someone just because he’d tried to butter me up.
The next time I saw him, he was bantering with my sister Addie. I passed within five feet of them and he looked right through me, without so much as a flicker of recognition. Like maybe I’d imagined our whole interaction, or else he chatted up so many girls it was impossible to keep track of them all. The whole thing was so mortifying I’d never spoken of it to another soul—until now.
But how to convey all of that in a few nonembarrassing words?
He’s the kind of guy who has the effrontery to act like he’s going to sit with you when all he really wants is to steal one of your chairs.
He’s the kind of guy who flirts for personal gain then drops you like a rock.
He’s the kind of guy so indiscriminate in his attentions he’ll trade one sister for another in the blink of an eye.
“He hit on my sister,” I said in a rush. “I think maybe he thought she was my other sister. The one who directs.”
Arden made a tsking noise with her tongue. “That’s just rude.”
“Why would he think your sister was your other sister?” Lydia asked.
“Face blindness?” Terry suggested.
