We Don't Have to be a Tragedy

Juliet’s Point of View

I was still kind of in a state of shock, at 8:26 p.m. on that Sunday. It’s been two hours and twenty six minutes exactly since the callbacks were posted, two hours and twenty six minutes since Romeo really became Romeo, and two hours an twenty six minutes since I found out they’d actually picked me as Juliet. Me!

Just then, my cell rang and I answered with a “ ‘Lo?”

“Jules, dear!” Taylor sing-songed. “How’d it go?”

“How’d what go?” I asked curiously.

“Auditions!”

“How’d you know?”

“Oh, my mom talked to yours and I heard that you were trying. Soooo?”

“I…I got it.”

“Got what? Who’d you try for? I heard you were a suggestion for---” giggle “---Mercutio!”

“I…I got Juliet.”

“WHAT?! That’s brilliant! Well done!”

“Um,” I gulped, “sure, yeah. Thanks.”

“Not excited?” her voice was incredulous.

“On the contrary,” I mumbled, “scared absolutely out of my wits.”

“So, who’s playing Romeo?”

“Romeo.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said! Who’s playing him?”

“I told you! Romeo is.”

“OH! So…what’s he like?”

“Well…” I kind of trailed off, but Taylor was my best friend and always had great advice, and since she dumped her mushy-gushy things on me, like her boyfriends and what they’re like and how much she likes them---can’t I kind of do the same? “He’s perfect!” I finally said, with a slight sigh. “He’s funny, he’s cute, he’s nice, he’s a real gentleman, and he’s got a great family, he’s an older brother and I think he might have a little sister complex. Oh, and his voice is just---I love it, it’s kind of deep but kind of not, and…and…he’s just…” I ran out of words, and finished with a slight sigh.

“Wow, girl. That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say about one guy.”

“Well, sorry,” I kind of giggled, embarrassed. “Oh! Did I mention he’s got the most gorgeous green eyes I have ever seen in my entire life?”

“No, you didn’t.” Taylor laughed. “Calm down, dear. Calm. And are you sure you’ve just known him a week?”

“Well, now that I think about it, I think I saw him once when we were like, fourteen at one of the college’s dinner parties for the professors and their families.”

“I…don’t think that counts.”

I laughed, “You’re probably right.”

And so, that cued the hours-long talk between my best friend and I, that seemed to stay centered more on me even though I tried to direct it to her like, twelve times. We talked on and on, and Taylor demanded that we talk more often, since we couldn’t see each other every day anymore. I consented, and we kept talking---and giggling a lot, contrary to what I’ve always believe of my personality---for at least three hours. Then we had to hang up, and I groaned. We had classes tomorrow, and I had to face Romeo, then we had the play practice after. I loved seeing him, I hope you didn’t get me wrong, but it’s going to be a bit awkward for me and my infatuation.

And so, when I woke up to Time to Dance, just like the first day, I stretched, yawned, and groaned all at the same time. Let’s just say that it was one of the strangest noises I’ve made in my entire life, and I hope I never make it again. Even though no one was in my room---duh---my face heated up in embarrassment.

I sighed, and got up. Looking in my closet, I picked out a Mountain Dew vintage t-shirt and some boot-cut navy jeans. I threw on some regular sneakers and threw my hair up in a messy ponytail after brushing it. I decided that would be it for today, and I was too tired to care whether I looked good or not, even though I had Romeo in almost all of my classes.

I groaned.

I’m totally thinking this over too much.

Okay, so One: I know I like him.
Two: Don’t think he likes me
Three: Am confusing myself.

I shook my head, checked really quick to make sure all my homework was finished, and caught up my bag and an apple on my way out. I was going to be early to Dad’s class again, but oh, well. It’s not like he cared, and I don’t really mind just listening to music while waiting. At all.

And that’s just what I did---the listening to music, but a little more. I was sitting on my desk, right by the windows and looking out of them, listening to 9 Crimes by Damien Rice.

“Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It‘s the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It‘s the wrong time
For somebody new
It‘s a small crime
And I’ve got no excuse

Is that all right, yeah
I give my gun away when it‘s loaded
Is that all right, yeah
If you don‘t shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it
Is that all right, yeah
I give my gun away when it‘s loaded
Is that all right?
Is that all right with you?

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It‘s the wrong kind of place
To be cheating on you
It‘s the wrong time
She‘s pulling me through
It‘s a small crime
And I‘ve got no excuse

Is that all right, yeah
I give my gun away when it‘s loaded
Is that all right, yeah
If you don‘t shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it
Is that all right, yeah
I give my gun away when it‘s loaded
Is that all right?
Is that all right with you?

Is that all right, yeah
Is that all right, yeah
Is that all right, yeah
Is that all right?
Is that all right?
Is that all right with you?
No.”

I kind of wished I’d noticed that people were stopping in the hallways to peek into the room and that Dad was leaning on the wall by the door and Romeo leaning on the frame.