Sequel: About A Girl ›
Status: Hey kids! I've written all I can with this story. I loved it but it wasn't really going anywhere. HOWEVER!!! I did rewrite the story in treatment for in a new 'light'. If you're interested in reading that :)
It's Not All About You, Luke
Act 2 Scene 2
It took us a while, but after an hour or so we were almost able to recite most of the scene - Oli still needed the script.
"She speaks;
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air." he rendered, pacing around my bed.
"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capul-"
"Screw this." Said Oliver, cutting me off mid word. "There's no point, we're going to fail this whether you like it or not. Jason won't learn his part and i still can't get my head around half if these word..." he trailed off as he went to sit on the end of my bed, sighing "I haven't a clue what they mean!"
"Oliver?" I asked from the corner of my room, "Can you say it like you do?" I walked over and knelt in front of him, gazing into his eyes. "you don't need to know what they mean; just pretend you do."
* * *
And hour later everything was perfect - well, everything except for Jason's lines. We knew exactly where to stand, how long to pause for and when. Oliver was even able to breeze though the word and not even need the script in front of him. After all, we figured that as long as we knew what we were doing, we personally couldn't get marked down and he couldn't fail.
"What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
So stumblest on my counsel?" I quoted.
"By a name,
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word."
I walked forward, pretending to lean upon the balcony, "My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?"
Neither of us we able to put to words the amount of success we had had that night. And the more we thought about it, we didn't exactly want anyone else to know. For one, Oliver was meant to hate me; if the others found out that we weren't so different, or that there was nothing to quarrel about between us, who knew what would happen. So we decided to leave it at that, besides; there was still one part we hadn't practiced and weren't that game to either; the kiss.
"She speaks;
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
And sails upon the bosom of the air." he rendered, pacing around my bed.
"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capul-"
"Screw this." Said Oliver, cutting me off mid word. "There's no point, we're going to fail this whether you like it or not. Jason won't learn his part and i still can't get my head around half if these word..." he trailed off as he went to sit on the end of my bed, sighing "I haven't a clue what they mean!"
"Oliver?" I asked from the corner of my room, "Can you say it like you do?" I walked over and knelt in front of him, gazing into his eyes. "you don't need to know what they mean; just pretend you do."
* * *
And hour later everything was perfect - well, everything except for Jason's lines. We knew exactly where to stand, how long to pause for and when. Oliver was even able to breeze though the word and not even need the script in front of him. After all, we figured that as long as we knew what we were doing, we personally couldn't get marked down and he couldn't fail.
"What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
So stumblest on my counsel?" I quoted.
"By a name,
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word."
I walked forward, pretending to lean upon the balcony, "My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?"
Neither of us we able to put to words the amount of success we had had that night. And the more we thought about it, we didn't exactly want anyone else to know. For one, Oliver was meant to hate me; if the others found out that we weren't so different, or that there was nothing to quarrel about between us, who knew what would happen. So we decided to leave it at that, besides; there was still one part we hadn't practiced and weren't that game to either; the kiss.