Finding June (27 page)

“Of course he’s not listening to you, June.
You hurt his ego,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s not like you
just told him ‘no, I don’t like you back’. You made it seem like
you completely forgot about him. That’s got to hurt the poor boy if
he’s really liked you as long as he claims he has.”

“Are you really talking about relationship
stuff with me?” I asked slowly, just to make sure I was actually
hearing the words coming out of her mouth.

“Keep that up and the offer will be revoked,”
Candice said, suddenly monotone once more.

“No, no . . . keep talking. I need all the
help I can get,” I said.

“You need to do something big. Don’t just
call him or text him or show up at his house. Do something big and
extreme and maybe even slightly embarrassing. It’s the least you
could do, really, considering how embarrassing it had to be for him
to be forgotten.”

“I don’t really know that embarrassing myself
is going to make this any better,” I said warily.

“No, June, you’re not getting it,” she
answered in frustration. “You’re not embarrassing yourself just for
the sake of doing it. You’re putting yourself out there as much as
he did by telling you that he loves you. You’re taking a risk to
match his and showing him you’re on the same page.”

“But he won’t listen to me. It doesn’t matter
how much I try to tell him—it’s like he’s wearing ear plugs,” I
said miserably.

“Then get him in a situation where he
has
to listen. One where he can’t get away without hearing
what you have to say first,” she answered, looking surprisingly
adamant and involved in this whole situation. I never would have
thought I’d be getting relationship advice from Candice, but it
sounded pretty good to me, so who was I to turn down a good
suggestion when I had none? “You need to do something big, June.
You’re an actress, aren’t you? You’re dramatic.”

“Something big,” I repeated slowly. “I think
I can manage that.”

CHAPTER 23

By Saturday night, my brilliant idea for
something "big" still hadn’t hit me. I think Gran was starting to
worry about my constant moping around the house, because not once
did she try to put some weird fruit blend on my face to make it
"glow." She walked past my bedroom door way more often than she
needed to, claiming she had to put laundry away, or get something
from the cupboard, or make sure the smoke alarm had batteries in it
(even though there was no smoke alarm there). With every trip past
my door, she’d linger for a moment, looking at me as I lay on my
back and stared at my ceiling.

At a quarter to six, she finally came into my
room, looking a bit dressed up for an evening in, and sat on the
edge of my bed.

“Bliss, I know you’re upset about everything
that’s happened with Joseph, but you’ve both been friends for a
long time. It’ll blow over. These things always do,” she said
warmly, placing her hand on my cheek and smiling at me.

“I don’t think this is the type of thing that
blows over Gran,” I said sadly. “But thanks for trying to make me
feel better.”

She sighed deeply, standing up from the bed
and walking back toward the door.

“I take it you aren’t going to the play
tonight, then?” she asked.

“No,” I said miserably. “I’m going to stay
here and figure out how on earth to set this right.”

“All right, Bliss. I’ll let him know you
wanted to come,” she promised, giving me a little wave as she
left.

I waited until I heard the garage door open
and close again before I let out a shuddering sigh. A few tears
rolled sideways down my cheeks and pooled in my ears. I had
definitely messed up big time. The numerous texts and calls I’d
sent to Joseph throughout the day were as silent and unanswered as
ever. I had even plucked up the courage to go over to his house,
but his mom had told me he was at a final rehearsal for the play
tonight. If it hadn't been such a believable alibi, I would have
wondered if Joseph were standing behind the front door whispering
what she should say to me.

I paced my room for a while, thinking that
maybe walking around would help me find a solution. I was wrong, of
course, but it was always worth a try. About twenty minutes later,
my phone buzzed, catching me by surprise. My heart jumped in my
chest for a moment, and I wondered if it could be Joseph texting to
ask why he hadn’t seen my face in the audience.

I didn’t recognize the number when I picked
up the phone, but I read the text anyway:

Have you done it yet? –C

At least I had Candice to cheer me on from
the metaphorical sidelines and make sure I didn’t chicken out. I
was pretty sure she’d eat me alive if I came back to set on Monday
without any good news to tell her.

I’m trying.
I answered, hoping that
would placate her. I resumed my pacing, now moving down the stairs
to pace the kitchen, in case a change in scenery could help. My
phone buzzed once more, and I tried to stop thinking it could be
Joseph.

Not hard enough.

I looked at my phone incredulously for a
moment, as if it would tell me what on earth Candice wanted me to
do. It wasn’t like opportunities to make someone listen to you just
fell into your lap. They had to be well planned out and opportune.
This wasn’t an everyday occurrence.

And then I almost kicked myself for being so
dense.

It might not be an everyday occurrence, but
it was definitely a
today
occurrence. Glancing at the clock
on the microwave, I sprang into action, trying to do a million
things at once. I grabbed the closest pair of shoes I could
find—which happened to be a pair of uncomfortable heels—and bolted
out the door, heading for the end of the cul-de-sac that shared a
brick wall with the school’s football field. I might not have had a
car, but I had legs and a house that was thankfully close to the
high school.

I scaled the brick wall (which was difficult
to do in heels) and ran across the dark football field (also hard
to do in heels). It felt scandalous to be running through the
school at night when I wasn’t supposed to be there, but the
excitement added to my adrenaline. I considered the emotions a good
thing, since I was pretty sure I’d back out if I weren't completely
wired and ready to charge.

I slowed to a quick walk once I reached the
auditorium, where I could hear the sounds of the play going on. I
didn’t stop at the doors where the audience, entered but instead
followed the familiar path backstage where my fellow classmates
scurried around trying to change costumes, remember lines, and not
trip over the black-clad stage crew. From the sounds of the lines
being spoken, I guessed they were almost to the very end of the
play.

I saw Xani standing near the stage, looking
anxious, and then I knew what I had to do. It was a long shot on so
many levels. I took off my heels so I wouldn’t make any noise and
slowly crept up behind Xani, grabbing her by the arm and pulling
her further away from the entrance to the stage so I could talk to
her. She looked shocked to see me, though probably not as shocked
as I was to see her normally blonde curly hair covered in a brown
wig that looked almost identical to my hair.

“June, what on earth are you doin' here?” she
asked in her thick Southern accent that I silently hoped she wasn’t
using while playing Juliet.

“Xani, I know you don’t like me all that
much, and this is probably the craziest thing I could ask you to
do, but can I please borrow your costume?” I asked desperately,
realizing how short we were on time and how unlikely it was that
she would agree to this. This would be her big chance to kiss
Joseph on stage, after all (even if it would be while playing
dead).

“Excuse me?” was all she managed to say,
which honestly was a better reaction than I was expecting to my
outlandish request.

“I know this sounds crazy, but Joseph hates
me right now and he won’t listen to anything I say. I know you like
him. I know that. And I know that means you probably don’t want to
help me win him over. But I also know that you’re a good person and
you realize how important this is to me,” I pleaded quietly.

Xani didn’t say anything for a moment. She
actually looked pretty mad at me for even asking her to do
something so extreme. I wondered if I had underestimated the
craziness of my plan. She stared at me a moment longer, first
looking angry, and then looking resigned as she kicked her shoes
off.

“If you’re going to take away my big moment,
you might as well help me unzip the dress,” she said in a tone that
sounded like it was trying to be upset but was mostly just
accepting of the current situation.

“Seriously?” I asked, not sure if I should
trust that she’d really given in that easily.

“If I thought I had even a small chance with
that boy, you wouldn’t be able to pry this costume from my cold
dead fingers,” she said as I helped her out of the dress. “But he’s
been miserable for the past two weeks. It’s like he’s not himself
anymore, and I like him too much to let him keep feeling so awful,”
she finished with a shrug. “I don’t know what you did to him, but
you’d better set it right.”

I felt myself tear up a little, but I didn’t
let my emotions get the better of me (for the first time ever). I
had a job to do, and people were already moving around backstage to
get ready for the next scene. My new scene.

I quickly pulled my clothes off, very aware
that I didn’t have a flesh-colored bodysuit under my clothes like
Xani did. I tried to ignore the fact that I was living out the
popular nightmare of being in your high school surrounded by your
peers in nothing more than your underwear, and quickly pulled the
dress over my head.

“Oh June, the stupid wig is stuck to my head.
I’ve got like, a billion bobby pins in here,” Xani whispered
urgently, trying to pull at the fake hair as the stage went dark so
that the next scene could be set.

“Don’t worry about it. I think it’s close
enough to my hair that they won’t be able to tell,” I said,
slipping on Xani’s shoes. I said about a thousand silent thank-yous
that Xani and I were about the same size, though the dress was a
bit loose on me. It didn’t really matter though, since I’d be lying
dead on the tomb.

“Okay, you need to run out while it’s dark
and lay on that box . . . I mean, tomb, in the middle of the stage.
You’ve read it right? Don’t wake up until he kills himself,” Xani
instructed in a hushed but panicked voice. I would almost think she
was more nervous than I was about this.

“Xani, I honestly can’t tell you how much
this means to me,” I said, pulling her into a quick hug.

“Yeah, yeah. Go get him!” she said, giving me
a thumbs-up and pushing me out onto the darkened stage.

This was it.

I half walked and half ran to the "tomb" in
the middle of the stage, and then climbed up onto it. I lay down so
that my hair covered my face for the most part, hoping no one would
notice that Juliet was suddenly a different person—at least, not
until it was absolutely unavoidable.

Through my closed eyelids, I could see the
lights turn up on the stage and hear the familiar sound of
someone’s microphone being turned on from the tech booth behind the
audience. A pair of footsteps echoed on the stage and I wondered
why there were two people walking on. Maybe someone had seen me
trade places with Xani and they were coming to drag me off the
stage, thinking I was some spotlight-obsessed teenager.

As the two figures spoke, I realized it was
supposed to be Paris and his servant, coming to pay their respects
to Juliet. I had completely forgotten how long this last scene
actually was. I would have to wait for Paris and the servant to
hide, then for Romeo (Joseph) and Balthasar to enter. Then
Balthasar would leave and Romeo would kill Paris. I’d just have to
hope that I could contain my nerves for that long, because the more
I thought about it, the more I realized how painfully long this
wait was going to be when all I wanted to do was tell Joseph how I
felt right then and there.

I tried not to listen to the lines being
spoken and focused on exactly what I would say. I couldn’t ruin the
play for everyone just because I had been an idiot, but I needed to
be able to get my point across as well. It would be tricky, and I’m
sure my words wouldn’t be Shakespearean, but the audience would
forgive me. Most of them probably wouldn’t even know the
difference.

I lay there silently, trying to ignore the
deafening beating of my own heart as Romeo killed Paris and brought
him to lie near my tomb. I could hear myself breathing loudly but
tried desperately to tune it out and just concentrate on what I
would say—which I still had absolutely no ideas for, by the
way.

I felt Joseph sit on the box next to me and
heard him recite his lines loud and clear. It was almost odd to
have him so close to me now, after not having seen him in a while.
My arm tingled where his hand rested on it, and suddenly I knew
exactly how Joseph had felt being around me all this time. I was a
little giddy to have finally realized how I felt about him. Now
that I knew I loved him, it made the stakes that much higher. If I
didn’t get this right, I could completely ruin my only chance of
getting him back.

Joseph shifted his weight next to me and I
could only guess what that meant. He was turning to kiss me.

“Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last
embrace. And, lips, O you the doors of breath, seal with a
righteous kiss. A dateless bargain to engrossing death,” he
recited, his hand moving the hair from my face.

I have to admit, at that moment I would have
given anything to open my eyes and see the look on Joseph’s face. I
could feel his whole body tense up, his hand freezing on my cheek
and his breath catching in his throat. It took all of my willpower
to not smile or laugh. Even though I knew the situation was
extremely delicate, the circumstance itself was pretty amusing.
Even in my panicked state, the humor was not lost on me.