Falling for Romeo (3 page)

The girls were silent for a few minutes, like they lost their nerve. Then the one Jennifer recognized as the most public of the four sat forward, her elbows on the back of the seat next to Jennifer. Her eyes were glued to John.

“That you kiss John in the play?”

“It’s Romeo and Juliet, of course we kiss.” The girls exchanged glances, two whispered to each other. They leaned over the backs of the seats for more. “I hear he frenched you.” How twisted facts got on the barbed wire of a rumor. “What else did you hear?” Jennifer asked.

“That you slapped him.”

“Yeah, and then you guys had a fight right in front of everybody.”

“Is it true you guys dated once?”

“That’s not what I heard, I heard they used to be friends—”

“But then John liked somebody else—”

“And then they never spoke to each other again.” A smile bloomed on Jennifer’s face. She kept her eyes on John. The rumors were rumors she’d heard before. Truth was she and John had never dated. The closest they’d gotten to saying something special to each other was the silly ritual they recited when they were kids and joined bloodied palms.

She still carried the scar and Jennifer looked down at her hand and wondered if she turned John’s palm over, if the white line identical to hers would be there.

“So, did he french you?”

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All Jennifer knew about kissing she’d read in magazines and heard traded in whispers. But to have tasted it and felt it smooth and melting on her lips, John’s kiss had surpassed anything she’d conjured up in her mind.

“John wouldn’t french in front of an audience.” She hadn’t defended him since she could remember.

Suddenly warm all over, Jennifer hunkered down in the seat and kept an unfazed façade on John and the boys on stage.

The girls, seeing that she was done talking sat back for a few moments, whispering. Jennifer strained to hear what was being said in spite of how she fought ignoring them.

When they finally got up and left, she took a breath.

The kiss was out there, and more juicy rumors would circulate. Every girl liked to be the center of excitement.

Jennifer was no exception. Playing Juliet to John’s Romeo was the electric current lighting up the dull halls of PVHS

now, bringing awareness of who she was to the galactic level of John Michaels, something she hadn’t counted on when she’d auditioned for the play. But then she hadn’t counted on him auditioning either.

As John sparred with the other actors, students and teachers meandered in and watched. John’s presence always drew a crowd. Jennifer noticed that the girls moved closer to the front of the stage, to the fringe of stage lights where they probably hoped John would see them.

He’s just a boy
. But he wasn’t like any other and that was why he was the center of everything. She thought back to when they were young. Even then he led rather k 0

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than followed—like Peter Pan—and that confident air promised adventure as well as safety.

She’d never known anyone like him.

The canker of jealousy she always felt for him was still inside of her so she reached into her backpack and pulled out the book she was reading for honors English—
Pride and Prejudice.
She wouldn’t play into the fascination the world held for John Michaels if she had the opportunity not to.

But her concentration waned. Her eyes drifted back to the stage just in time to see him hop down, sword still in hand, and stride her way. The air around him buzzed and sizzled as he approached. He sat in front of her. Every eye in the room was on them.

John never hunched. As if he refused to completely relax, he sat erect, ready to soak up whatever stimulus surrounded him. For the moment he sat facing forward, giving her the chance to really see the back of his head, and the strong curve of his neck. He always wore his dark hair short. For the play, he’d grown it out long, and the naps caused the hair to stand in feisty rebellion. It was shiny, like silken velvet. Her memory searched for the feel of it because she’d touched his hair years ago when they’d played. More than once she had brushed dirt from it. She even plucked a wasp out of it once.

As he sat in front of her he looked around, offering her an opportunity to catch his attention. She fought a smile and forced herself to continue reading the tedious book in her lap.

“Caught up on your chapters?”

His smooth voice comforted, like molasses and orange tea. Her insides spun. She casually looked up. His

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skin was without blemish, another thing she envied as she fought the occasional pimple. She’d needed braces and he hadn’t—of course. Because he ran track, he always had sun-kissed skin, which now set his white teeth to brilliance. But it was his eyes that captivated her: colorful opals, mysteriously changing with the sun or storm or the color of his shirt. Sure, they were just John’s eyes and she grew up looking into them but the affect was different now.

“Yes.” She nodded and closed the book. Their past meant conversation was uncomfortable.

“You like it?” He kept his eyes on hers and the affect was somewhere between terrifying and thrilling.

“I like the story, but Mr. Darcy’s starting to get on my nerves. He’s so cocky and arrogant.”

“Obviously you haven’t finished it.” Of course
he
had, she thought and she opened the book as if ready to read again. “Skimmed a little, did we?”

He turned around fully and faced her, one arm casually draped along the back of the chair. He had gorgeous long fingers. Gentle looking hands. She blinked and tore her gaze away.

He shook his head. “I never skim—unless it’s a textbook.”

“And then you just read the bold or bulleted parts, right?”

His left shoulder lifted. For a moment, neither spoke.

Jennifer wondered if he was going to say something more.

“You and Lacey friends?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Just with the play and all.” k

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They both heard laughter but only she looked to see whose it was. The four-pack of girls had moved nearer to them, trying to get John’s attention.

“Why?” she felt compelled to ask.

“That’s what I want to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you say that? About the kiss?” John was mercilessly direct. Jennifer saw it with his friends, other students and even teachers. She saw his directness with everybody but his dad. She admired that he spoke up for himself.

She couldn’t meet his gaze anymore so she looked at the book in her lap. He wanted an explanation, but all she felt was guilt for having said the kiss stunk. But she wouldn’t admit it.

When he didn’t say anything she wished somebody would come by and rescue her from the awkwardness.

She finally looked at him when she realized a rescue wasn’t going to happen. He studied her with a look that sent a luscious ribbon of heat to her middle.

“John, dude.” Andrew was going over some of the choreography on the stage for the sword fight in which Paris is killed by Romeo. “Come here for a sec.” John didn’t get up, rather held her in that heated gaze for another ten heart-pounding beats. Jennifer wondered if he wanted to say more.

Finally, he stood.

She couldn’t help herself, she watched him join Andrew. Every eye in the auditorium now shifted to the stage. Blowing out a sigh, Jennifer gathered her things to go backstage.

She’d seen enough.

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Three

“Today’s journal entry is up on the board. Get to it.” Miss Tingey never paced when she instructed. She walked— calculatedly—in front of the class. If she sat, which was rare, she hiked one hip on the table piled with notebooks, papers and textbooks.

Miss Tingey looked like she still went to high school.

She was one of those teachers who kids rearrange their schedules to have. Her classes were known for scintillating discussions and hard work. She graded tough but made sure everybody left her class in love with learning.

Jennifer looked at the words Miss Tingey had written on the board.
How do you feel about gossip?
Over the year, the class had covered a variety of topics for their journal entries followed by class discussions. The idea of the journal was to write a remembrance of where you were as a senior.

Jennifer adjusted in her seat so she could see John.

He sat up front. Always up front, she thought cynically. He wrote voraciously in his journal and she wondered what he was writing about. Guilt kept the pen still in her hand.

Miss Tingey only allowed ten minutes to make their daily entries, so Jennifer looked at her paper—still blank except for a daisy she’d drawn at the top. She decided to take the daisy design down the full length so she at least looked as if she was doing something.

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“Okay, let’s talk about this,” Miss Tingey started.

“How do you feel about gossip?” She waited for hands to shoot up.

One did. Jennifer didn’t need to see whose it was, the quiet hush falling over the room told her.

“Yes, John?” Miss Tingey herself seemed to light up when John spoke, Jennifer thought wryly.

“It sucks,” John began, and the class laughed. But Jennifer didn’t, feeling something build in her stomach.

“Most of the time it’s not true. And even if it is, why does the world need to know it? Whose business is it?” Miss Tingey nodded. Other hands went up. She pointed to a girl in the back. “Yes, Jessica?”

“But people live off of it.” Jessica tucked her dyed-black hair behind an ear punctured with half-a-dozen silver earrings. Her dark eyes were serious under heavy metallic eye shadow in electric blue. “It’s like they don’t have lives of their own so they feed off the lives of others.” The class shifted, murmured, some in agreement, others in distaste.

“I think people say stuff because they’re bored,” one girl said.

“Or jealous,” another added.

“Or vindictive,” John’s tone was sharp. The room hushed. Jennifer looked over and found him staring right at her.

Miss Tingey sat on the edge of her desk with a smile and a nod at John’s comment. “Yes. Why does revenge initiate gossip?”

“Because that person isn’t there to defend themselves in the first place,” John went on. “When you think about it, it’s pretty wimpy.”

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Murmurs of agreement and amazement followed at a peer so intuitive. Jennifer felt the steady gaze of that peer still on her.

Miss Tingey looked for other comments and her gaze stopped on Jennifer. “Any comments? Jenn?” Usually, Jennifer and John verbally sparred during class discussions, trying to one-up each other. The class now turned expectantly to face her.

“I just think sometimes things are said that are misconstrued as gossip when what they really are is just an opinion.”

“So what’s the difference between gossip and opinion?” Miss Tingey stood, and began walking again.

Jessica with the studded ear sat forward and the chains on her black leather jacket banged against the metal desk. “Even though our opinions are our right, gossip’s started with malicious intent.”

“So let me see if I get this,” Freddy, the himbo running-back shifted his bulky body in a desk that barely held him. “If I run thirty yards, but the ref only calls it at twenty-two and then everybody talks about it later, then that’s gossip?”

It took the class a few minutes to stop laughing and when they finally did, John said, “If it hurts somebody, it’s wrong. That’s just it.”

Almost everyone nodded in agreement. The guy sitting behind John lifted his hand to slap John’s.

“Let’s take it deeper.” Miss Tingey stopped in front of the class, her chin thoughtfully held in her fingertips. “Is gossip gender specific?”

“What’s that mean?” Freddy asked.

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room a hive until Miss Tingey held out both palms and pressed them down as if pushing out the disruption.

Hands went up. John’s went up. “It’s more a girl thing,” he said.

“Both sexes gossip,” a girl piped, and immediately the boys disagreed.

“Not like girls.”

“Guys don’t talk about stuff like girls do.”

“Girls don’t have any boundaries.”

“Yeah, they’re mean, man.”

“Yeah – cats.” Freddy hissed, clawing at the air with his fingertips.

A girl up front raised her hand. When the class quieted, she glanced at John, fluttered her eyelashes and said, “Not all girls gossip. Real friends don’t stab each other in the back.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes and raised her hand.

Miss Tingey nodded at her. “People gossip when it’s convenient for them, no matter who they are.”

“Convenient?” John’s face twisted into sarcastic disbelief. He was looking at her again and the tight line between them pulled the class into a hard silence. “So that makes it okay?”

“You’ve never said something about somebody that isn’t true?” Jennifer asked.

“Why would I? There’s plenty to say that is true without having to make up something.”

“Oh, so it’s better to spread stuff around that’s true?

It’s the same thing.”

“How about you try keeping your mouth shut?” Jennifer noticed the thick silence in the room. Every one was staring at them. Her cheeks heated and she

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turned away and faced Miss Tingey. Hearing palms slap in conquest made her angrier, but she didn’t look over to see if John was a part of it.

He made her think.
Good.
The shocked way her eyes opened after he told her to keep her mouth shut was satisfying. Now John wondered what rehearsal would be like.

The auditorium was almost empty with the exception of a few random students who’d snuck in.