Chapter Eight: It’s The Lights

We enter rehearsal in the auditorium to find Dan already there. He glares at our hand-holding, so Sam wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Sam,” I mutter, blushing.

“OK, my wonderful three! Let’s begin with a basic plot summary, so we understand everything!”

We all groan in unison.

“In terms you guys can understand.” Mrs. DiMartini grins. “OK, so the Capulets are having this huge party. Romeo, the son of the Montagues, crashes this party with a few friends. He and Juliet meet over punch or something. It’s love at first sight. But their parents hate them being together. See, they had this huge fight, so now they hate each others’ guts. So Romeo and Juliet meet in secret. I mean, what better way to get a girl to go for a guy if she’s told she can’t have him? But, of course, Juliet’s parents want her to marry this Paris dude. She doesn't love him, though, not with her Romeo. And as we know, through miscommunication and lies, Juliet believes Romeo’s dead, so she kills herself. Romeo returns and kills himself after finding his love dead.”

Sam and I sit, clasping hands tightly. Dan sits there, face devoid of emotion, lips drawn into a tight line. “That’s so sad, Mrs. D.!” I exclaim. “Why would Shakespeare write something so sad?”

My teacher heaves a heavy sigh. “I wish I knew, Matilda. I’d jump at the chance to ask him. Now, let us practice! Sam, Matilda--balcony scene. Start with the big and work our way down.”

Sam and I clamber up on stage to join our slightly eccentric teacher. “Uh, where should we stand?” Sam asks.

“Sam, you stand here.” Mrs. D. grabs his shoulders and motors him to center-stage, right side facing the audience. “And Matilda... here.” Now it’s my shoulders she grabs, moving me to stage right, but still in the relative center, facing Sam. Romeo. “OK, scripts open to page twenty-four! And... ACTION!”

“Romeo, O Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?” I call beseechingly. Hmm, this reminds me of my nightmare. Sam? Sam? Oh, Sam, where are you?

“I am here, my love. Dost thou think I wouldst forsake thee?” Sam replies, his voice lilting as he speaks his lines. The nightmare plays again. I am here.

Something inside me opens wide, and I intake a breath sharply. It feels like I am seeing, breathing, living for the first time in a very long while. “Romeo! Thou must awaken! Inside thee lies a past that thou must not forsake!” The world spins as I process this newness inside of me. Then I black out.

- - -

“Matilda?” a voice calls me. “Hey, lights on in the attic?” It’s Dan. That’s his favorite saying for me, since I zone out a lot.

“Mmmm... ouch,” I murmur. “What happened?” I keep my eyes closed, afraid that if I open them I’ll be sick everywhere.

“You started talking funny, like in a different voice, and you said something that wasn't in the script. Then you blacked out,” Dan continued, very eager that I was talking to him, not snubbing him, or calling for Sam.

“Oh.” I remember. Was that what Tommy had mean, when he spoke to me in my dream? Maybe... maybe I really am Juliet. Freaky. “Uhh... can you help me up? Anyone?” I ask weakly. Strong arms lift me up from behind and turn me around slowly. I breathe in the sweet and very distinct scent of black licorice. “Sam.”

“Matilda. Are you sure you’re OK?” he asks worriedly. His voice makes me peek open one eye. His face is drawn tight with worry and anxiety. I want to make it go away.

“Yeah. Musta been the stage lights,” I manage through my dizziness. I, however, know perfectly well that it was not the stage lights. “Can you help me get to to the drinking fountain, please?”

“Yeah, I can. Stage lights.” Sam’s eyes narrow slightly. He knows that it certainly wasn’t the lights, either.

“Actually, we started rehearsal a bit late. It’s time to go,” Mrs. D. tells us. “Matilda, are you sure you’re fine?”

“Definitely,” I assure my frazzled teacher. “I didn’t have much to eat today, either, so it must have been the combination of bright lights and no food. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Sam and I leave through the back stage doors. “That wasn’t the lights, was it?” he asks, an arm wound tightly around my waist to prevent me from falling. It’s very comforting.

“Hell no. I’m gonna have a talk with Tommy.”

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Hearts, Chari!