We Don't Have to be a Tragedy

Romeo’s Point of View

She was almost ten minutes late. I sighed, realizing she probably had just brushed me off. I mean, we had all week for the accursed essay…she probably thought I was a freak for asking her to work on it on our first day.

I sighed again and had just decided I’d give her ten more minutes when the bell above the door chimed.

“Oh, good! You’re still here! I’m sorry, I got a little sidetracked talking to one of my friends from back home!”

I let my head fall to the table. At least the guy behind me didn’t get stood up, I thought despairingly. I thought we’d hit it off just fine today, but I guess not. I didn’t bother to look up at the bell again, just glanced at my watch.

Five more minutes passed, and I sat up and decided I might as well start putting my pen and paper back in my bag. I was just picking up my pen when the bell chimed again.

“Oh my gosh! I’m soo sorry!!!”

This time I looked up fast enough to crick my neck, and who did I see but the girl I was waiting for rushing across the little café, attracting stares (the guy behind me got slapped in the arm by his date) and taking a seat directly across from me.

“I’m so sorry! I got kind of lost taking the scenic route and when I realized it, it was already six after! Now it’s like, seventeen after!!! Oh my gosh, I never even realized I was that late! I’m so sorry!”

“That’s the third time you’ve apologized,” I noted when I could finally speak after my surge of relief.

“Ah, um, well,” she kind of flushed, “do you forgive me, then?”

“Sure,” I chuckled, then motioned to the menu that was on the table. “I waited to get anything to eat. You can get whatever you want, it’s on me. And to start off with, due to the atmosphere, what’s your favorite soft drink?”

“You bought it for me earlier,” she grinned at me, “but after that it would be Dr. Pepper, or Root Beer.”

“Cool,” I grinned, jotting it down.

“Okay, your favorite?” She asked, putting her own mechanical pencil and notebook on the table.

“Oh, yeah. Pepsi or Sprite, then my third would be any of the Mountain Dews.”

She laughed, and I had to stop myself from joining in, opting instead for a kind of half-grin.

Juliet’s Point of View

Wow. That half-grin of his just gets to me every time.

“Your favorite food?” he asked me, still with that grin.

“Oh, yeah…spaghetti!” I grinned. “Can’t live without it.”

He chuckled again, and it was my turn to kind of grin in return. “They have it here, if you want.”

“Oh, well…I don’t know,” I grinned almost shyly. “I might embarrass myself.”

He laughed. Not just a chuckle, a full-out laugh that kind of made him cough to get his breath back. “You? Embarrass yourself? I don’t think you’d let that happen,” he managed.

“Whatever,” I replied, with a thought-through eye-roll. “Your favorite food?”

“Chinese,” he said immediately, in a ‘duh’ voice.

“Favorite food, not favorite type,” I quipped back.

“Oh, um…I guess Pizza. Then the next question is favorite type, and it’s Chinese, so what’s yours?”

I laughed, and thought for a minute. “I think I’d have to say Chinese as well, to tell the truth. Next to spaghetti, crab Rangoon is like, the best.”

“I totally agree,” he wrote it down as I finished writing his information.

“May I take your order?”

We both looked up in slight shock, me having forgotten already that we were in a café, and I don’t know why Romeo jumped.

“Um…” I said intelligently.

“I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries,” Romeo said, “no pickles, and a Pepsi.”

“Uh…I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries, too. No onions, and a Mountain Dew…”

“Alright, we’ll have that out as soon as we can. I’ll get your drinks to you while you wait.”

The waitress, a girl I remembered seeing in one of my classes today, walked away. I couldn’t help but think she was walking away slower than she’d walked over, and kind of swaying her backside. I groaned in disgust and turned my head away.

“Kind of obvious, wasn’t that?” Romeo’s voice came, and I realized he was staring fixatedly at the menu on the table. “Just….was it me or you it was directed at?”

“Ew!” I cried, “That’s awful!”

He laughed, “Sorry, sorry, trying to lighten the moment some, you know.”

“Yeah, well, that was disgusting.”

“Her, or me?”

“Both!” I shivered. “I don’t think any person in their right mind would do that at me…I mean, guys don’t go around waggling their butts at people and---” I realized then that he was in an absolute bout of not-quite-but-almost hysterical laughter.

“Calm down,” he laughed, “she was flirting with me earlier in Mom’s class. I don’t like her type, so she just needs to drop it.”

I giggled softly, and heard the unmistakable sound of her high heels returning.

“Here you go,” she said, grinning a sickening, false grin directed at the boy across from me. I felt like punching her and telling her that he was mine, but he technically wasn’t, so I didn’t.

Well, he technically was mine, I just didn’t know it.

“Okay, we’ve called this assembly for an announcement,” Mom said across the chatter in the auditorium.

I yawned, and wondered what it is that was so important they’d gotten us out of class on Friday.

“We have decided upon our play for this year,” Cathy said happily, “and we have a few ideal choices for the roles.”

“The play is Shakespeare,” Mom spoke up again.

“Of course,” I murmured, and Romeo, beside me, chuckled.

“And it’s Romeo and Juliet!”

I groaned.

“They had to do that our first year here, didn’t they?” I whispered.

“Seems just like something Mom would suggest,” he agreed.

“At least they might not pick us, seem like favoritism or something. Well, at least they probably won’t pick me. I don’t think I’m that good at all.”

“You did good in Drama,” Romeo argued.

I chuckled, “Oh, that.”

He laughed softly as well.

“And tryouts are not limited to the few ideal students we have in mind, but we beg them to participate.” Romeo’s father cut in. “Professor Capula has the list with him.”

“Well, our choices for Benvolio are…”

I couldn’t help but laugh when Romeo’s name was mentioned. Someone called out, “Shouldn’t Romeo play Romeo?”

“Hear, hear!” I cried, laughing.

I almost cried tears when I was a suggestion for Mercutio.

“Dad! Mercutio’s a guy!” I said loud enough for him to hear. He just laughed.

I slumped back in my seat and Romeo was trying hard not to laugh out loud at me.

“Shaddup,” I mumbled.

“And finally, for the lead roles…” Dad said dramatically.

“Yes, finally,” I muttered, “then we can leave!”

“For Romeo Montague, our choices are Liam Thompson, Elijah Owens, and Romeo Davis.” there were a few laughs, and Dad said, “See? We never said Romeo couldn’t try to be Romeo!”

“Go Romeo!” someone cried out, and there were a lot of laughs and cat calls.

“And our choices for Juliet are…”

“Probably blonde bimbos who can’t tell their pinky from their thumb,” I mumbled darkly.

Romeo’s Point of View

I couldn’t help but laugh at Juliet’s mutterings.

“Hanna Anderson, Natalie West, and Juliet Capula.”

At this, Juliet literally fell out of her seat and yelped, “What did you just say?!”

“Calm down, Juliet,” her father laughed. “And, as we have said, auditions are open to everyone, not just those we have listed. Our judges will be a few professionals that have agreed to this along with their lectures over the next few weeks. The auditions are tonight, and over the weekend. Now, have a great rest of the day, and please think on this for us. Our call backs will be posted Sunday evening at six, so you must audition before hand. Thank you, and back to class with you lot!”

We all got up, Juliet from the floor where she had remained, and made our way out.

“Me? Mercutio?” She muttered, “Or me, Juliet? Which is worse?” this last, she threw her hands in the air in frustration.

“I think you as Mercutio would be a sight. But maybe life-threatening for you, the shock of getting the role might kill you.”

I received a glare, and a “That does not help!” before she stalked ahead of me, back to her father’s room. I laughed, and shook my head.

I, of course, had every intention of going for Romeo, and Benvolio if I really wasn’t cut out for Romeo. And if I was Romeo, why couldn’t I get my Juliet?