“Hank!”

Just ignore her. Keep walking, don't look back.

“Hank!”

Henry rolled his eyes and stopped in the hall outside his English Comp class. I was so close. He turned. “Hello, Jenny. You bellowed?”

“I didn't bellow. I just called your name. You were ignoring me.”

“Yeah well, life sucks and then your cable goes out. What do you want?”

Jenny Wilson pouted, or rather tried to pout. She was apparently shooting for the cowgirl look, with her boots; although he had yet to run across any aquamarine cows, maybe they were a reincarnated couch, a pair of jeans that could sue for abuse and western shirt embroidered with cowgirls on horseback with the cliché lariat thrown in the air trying to catch some unsuspecting cow.

“Ms Jensen wanted to make sure you knew about the audition results. Have you heard what our first play is yet?”

“I was there this morning when she posted for second auditions. ”

“It's Twelfth Night! I can't wait. I want to be Viola so bad. It's really the perfect role. You'd make a perfect Orsino. And Isabel can play Lady Olivia. I don't know who'd play Sebastian but it'd have to be someone who...” Jenny paused for a moment and looked at Henry. “Hank?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I think I fell into a coma or something.”

Jenny snorted with laughter. “Oh!” Jenny drew her hands to her mouth trying to suppress any further laughter, making her look like she was having convulsions “You're so funny. Isabel is always telling me that you're such a hoot. Like the time I told her how you pretended to run from me after school last year, pretending you were on the track and field team running around the track with the other guys and she says. 'Yeah that Henry, he's such a hoot.'”

Somebody shoot me. A coma isn't good enough. She'd probably sit by my bed and talk my ear off anyway. And the bad thing, in a coma, they can still hear other people. talk about living hell. “Look Jenny, I really have to go. I have track in like...”

Jenny snorted again, This time turning a deep crimson as she struggled to keep her laughter in control. “Oh you!. Well I'll see you in auditions, tonight!”

“Yeah. Can't wait!” Henry waited as she sprinted off towards some other unsuspecting classmate that she might snare. He watched till he knew it was clear to go into his English class without being seen.

“Oh shit!” Henry bounded off the doorframe and slid down to rest on his rear. “What the hell?” he rubbed the back of his head where it had come in contact with the metal doorframe.

“Dude. You okay?” Nicholas Bourdain stared down at him, holding out a hand to help him up.

“Huh?” Holy crap! Yes, Yes Nicholas, I will marry you. What? have your babies? And HOW! Henry stared up at Nicholas, listening to a slight ringing in his ears. Henry watched his lips move as he reached for his hand. Oh my God. I'm about to touch his hand. Not just touch it, but grip it tightly. He's literally swept me off my feet. Okay, okay, knocked me on my ass, but still. If this isn't meant to be, I don't know what is.

“Sorry Dude. Didn't see you. Here, let me help you.” henry watched him bending over to pick up his books, which had conveniently slid across the hall. I think I must have died. Look at that ass. What do you have to do to have an ass like that? “Here. Sorry.”

“S'okay. My fortune cookie said I was gonna have a bang up day.” Okay henry. Don't talk. Really. Just look wounded. He'll feel sorry for you. This is not the right time to be “a hoot”. Mental note, KILL Izzy.

“Yeah. Right. Uhm...Again. Sorry.” Nicholas looked uncomfortable, averting his eyes as if trying not to make eye contact with Henry.

Guys do not get your humor! Remember that next time you'd like to pull a funny out of your ass. “S'okay. I'll live. Nothing's broke except my pride. Nothing to see here people.” Oh my god. Shut up. You're being possessed by Jenny Wilson. OH MY GOD, I am Jenny Wilson. Henry inched back out into the hallway, and darted towards the bathroom, oddly hoping that Nicholas wasn't staring after him.

“And then, the next thing I know, I'm running fullout to the bathroom. I swear to God I've never been so embarassed in all my freakin' life. Fate hates me. I'm sure of it, fate has decided to take one huge gigantic crap all over my life, starting with Nicholas Bourdain.”

Izzy was out of breath she was laughing so hard. She waved her hand, signalling Henry to stop. Henry slumped against his bedroom wall, buried in his favorite comforter. “Life is so cruel.” He watched Izzy waving her hands like a fan in front of her face.

“Whew, I needed that.” She giggled.

“I'm glad you find my misery so humorous.”

“Oh shut up, ya big baby. If it were me, you'd be over there rolled up in a ball, tears streaming down your face, unable to move, you'd be laughing so hard.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah whatever. Deny it all you want. Clearly one of us is suffering from a concussion. Besides, I don't think Nicholas is going to be the man of your dreams.” Izzy leaned back against the wall with that all knowing look in her eyes.”

“What!” Yes he is. He's perfect. He's an adonis. He's...”

“About as dumb as a brick. He called you dude for Christ's sake. Dude!” Izzy shook her head. “He's a neanderthal. Couldn't form a coherent sentence more than five words long.”

“You don't know, you weren't there. Maybe he was dumbfounded by my beauty.”

“Or maybe he's just dumb. Neanderthal's been tackled too many times on the football field.”

“Oh, now you're just stereotyping.”

Izzy laughed. “Next time you see him, ask him to spell stereotyping or better yet, define it. He probably thinks it's writing a paper with the music turned up.”

“Hey! Don't be hating on my man.” Henry pouted, pulling the comforter up over his head. “You don't know.” He muttered.

“You're right. I don't. I'm sorry.” She said, half placatingly. “If you want to chase the caveman, be my guest.”

“Ugh. Me like!” Henry looked at his phone for the time. “Shit, we have second auditions.” He threw off his blanket and grabbed his copy of Twelfth Night. “You have to drive, I need to read some more.”

“You know you have a part.”

“I don't want just any part. I need a lead. Orsino or nothing.”

“Oh lord. Don't go all primadonna on me. I can't take another year like last year.”

“What? I wasn't prima donna.”

“Oh please!” She grabbed the keys off the dresser and headed for the door. “One standing ovation and you thought you were ready for Broadway. I thought about putting a net above the orchestra in case the rest of the cast decided to throw you off the stage.”

“Jealousy's an ugly thing.”

“No, you writing your name on the dressing room door was an ugly thing. Even Jenny, sweet, smitten, let-me-have-your-babies, Hank, Jenny, was this close to having you killed.” Izzy barely held her fingers apart for illustration. “This close.” She said, with emphasis.

“First off, don't ever say that again. The very act of trying to make babies with Jenny Wilson...I think I just threw up a little. Second, if you call me Hank again, I will have to kill your Beanie Babies. Don't think I won't. I know where you live. And finally,” Henry looked at Izzy with a glint in his eyes, “let's drive by the practice field when we get to school. I'm sure they have practice for the game tomorrow.”

“Oh, good idea. Watching cavemen throw a ball. How exciting.”

“No, silly woman. Watching cavemen tackle each other while sweaty and glistening! That's exciting.”

“Okay, just as a reminder. Those of you not chosen for a role, are more than welcome to work behind the scenes as stagehands. We can use all the help we can get. Stagecraft isn't just about acting.”

Henry rolled his eyes with what seemed like everyone else in the first two rows of the auditorium. “Roll your eyes all you want, but if the king has to sit on his throne and the throne is off stage well there's certainly going to be problems.” She looked at her list of names she'd compiled for the cast. “Okay. Isabel Delgado, you're going to be our Olivia” Henry felt Izzy squeeze his hand as she beamed. “Christopher Maddox, you're going to be Orsino.”

Well crap. Wait... Christopher Maddox. Henry looked over and spotted Maddox sitting in the front row in front of Ms Jensen. She smiled down at him. Henry sank down in his seat. How could she possibly pick that lummox to play my role? MY ROLE! Talk about your neanderthals. Henry plopped his head on Izzy's shoulder. She petted his hair in commiseration. I was robbed!

“...and Henry Forrester.” It was Henry's turn to squeeze Izzy's hand. Wait...what roles are left. Orsino...gone. Sebastien...gone...Malvolio...gone. Sir Toby Belch...gone...Sir Andrew Aguecheeks...gone...there aren't any major male characters left... “will be our Viola.” What?? “What!! Ms Jensen? Uhm. Viola is a girl's role. I'm, well I'm not a girl.”

“Well Mr Forrester, Viola, is a female pretending to be a male. Why not just go the whole nine yards and do it one better. A male, playing a female, pretending to be a male. Someone with your acting chops should be able to handle that. Henry heard a sudden ringing in his ears.

“I told you. A great big giant crap on my life.” Henry looked up at the ceiling of the car. “What? What did I ever do. Was my previous life so damn wonderful that I'm forced to make reparations in this life.” He slumped down in his seat, hoping the seatbelt might accidently hang him the next time Izzy hit the breaks. He sat up straight again. “And Viola!! Do you know what this means. Who my love interest is! Christopher Maddox. I wouldn't be surprised if he ate paste in elementary school. Lead based paste.” Henry looked over at Izzy who had yet to say a word. “What?”

“I think... I think you need some ice cream. A big three dipper of ice cream with all the fixin's.”

“Oh. You're just loving this, aren't you? Remember, next life, I'm the bitch and you...you're...you're that moth you just smashed on the windshield.”

“Does that mean no ice cream?” She grinned.

“Grrr...I'm not in the mood for rhetorical questions.” Henry slouched back down in his seat.

The Frozen Toad was bustling. Most of the tables were full, all the stools along the bar were occupied. A bunch of kids were out in the parking lot, three or four stereos were all blaring different stations or music lists from IPOD and everyone was huddled in groups of twos, threes and fours. Henry saw Christopher Maddox and Nicholas Bourdain and a couple of other jocks pressed in one of the booths in the back. He looked over at Izzy. “Could you just melt my ice cream and drown me in it?”

“And let you miss the social habits of neanderthals.” She shook her head and threaded her arm through his elbow. “Come on. I'm buying. It's the least I could do for my sweet Viola.”

“Shut up, moth girl.” He squinted his eyes at her, trying to look menacing. “I hope I'm driving the car too. Splat! Oh poor poor Izzy.”