Willow
Getting ready for school Monday morning, I stopped to read the email on my phone for the hundredth time since it arrived on Saturday morning.
Date: January 28th
Re: Hamlet, Final Cast List
Congratulations and thank you for being a part of the Harmony Community Theater’s production of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Please find the rehearsal schedule at the bottom of the list, and notify myself or Assistant Director, Rebecca Mills, or Stage Manager, Frank Darian if you have conflicts and can no longer participate.
Thank you, and I look forward to creating stage magic with you!
Hamlet: Isaac Pearce
Gertrude: Lorraine Embry
Claudius: Len Hostetler
Polonius: Martin Ford
Ophelia: Willow Holloway
Laertes: Justin Baker
Other roles and names scrolled on and on, but my gaze kept stuttering and jumping back up to Ophelia and my name across from it.
“Holy shit.”
The shock kept slamming me from one side while a flicker of pride burned the other side. I’d been happy with my audition and relieved I didn’t embarrass myself during the callbacks, but I still didn’t think I’d get the part. Now I had the kind-hearted Martin Ford trusting me with a small but pivotal role in one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays. A play that would be performed in front of the entire goddamn town.
“And the school,” I muttered. “They’ll come to see Isaac…”
My gaze moved up from my name to Isaac’s across from Hamlet. Of course, he was playing Hamlet.
And I was playing Ophelia.
Fuck. What the hell were you thinking?
This was too much. Isaac was a genius who deserved to act alongside actual talent. And Martin Ford was a good man just trying to put on a good show. I was a hopeless amateur who’d only auditioned to try to find some relief from my own fucked up situation.
The stupidity of it bowled me over. Then my eyes landed on the bundle of blankets on the floor beside my untouched bed. I’d spent another mostly-sleepless night, breaking in and out of dreams of shadowy weight pressing down on me, crushing the air from my body. My arm was still blackened with X’s from my Sharpie.
Doing nothing didn’t work. I have to try something else.
“I got the role, didn’t I?” I said to the bedcovers. “I can do this.”
I just have to tell the story.
I stuffed my phone into my bag and went out.
I took over Isaac’s old desk in Mr. Paulson’s English class. I told myself it was to be across from Angie. Really, I hated seeing it empty. Hated the daily reminder of how the system had failed Isaac. Literally kicked him out.
“I got the part,” I said, sliding into my seat.
Angie’s head shot up and she brushed a mess of black curls out of her eyes. Today’s sweatshirt read, I do marathons…on Netflix.
“Are you serious?” she said. “Ophelia? And you’re just now telling me this?”
“Not so loud,” I hissed, glancing around at the classroom. Students either had their heads together talking, or their heads on their desks. Mr. Paulson was busy organizing himself. Nobody looked at us.
“When did they tell you?”
“Saturday.” I pulled out my phone and called up the email.
“Saturday?” She was practically shrieking. “Two days is like two months by Angie Standard Time. That thing you’re holding? It has this cool text function you should try.”
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it,” I said, and handed Angie my phone. “It’s crazy, right? I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Angie used her finger to scroll down the list, a slow grin spreading over her lips.
“Look at you, Miss Thang, acting alongside the great Isaac Pearce.”
“Shh, don’t say anything. Not around here. The last thing I need is everyone thinking I’m following him around like an idiot.”
“Why would they think that?”
“You thought that.”
“Guilty as charged.” She tapped her finger on her teeth. “So why are you doing it? I’m not trying to give you a hard time, I honestly want to know.”
I started to blow off her question with a bullshit reason. Instead I shrugged, dropped my gaze. “I had…a rough time last summer and I need a change.”
Angie’s round, open face was soft with concern. “A change from what?”
From what I’ve become.
“Nothing, just a change. A fresh start. Since we moved, I figure it’s a good time to try something new.”
Angie nodded slowly, her dark eyes warm. Then she smiled brightly and went back to the cast list. “I’m proud of you. And I promise to keep it amongst The Greatest, but looky here.” She held the phone to face me and pointed to Justin Baker’s name. “Your big brother, Laertes, is sitting right over there.”
She inclined her head to a blond guy sitting in the front row. His face was turned to profile, talking with Jessica Royce, one of the Plastics. Justin was exceptionally handsome with a tall, baseball player physique clothed in expensive jeans and shoes. The kind of guy the old me would have noticed the first time I’d walked into the classroom, instead of weeks later. That Willow would’ve taken a seat as close to him as possible and asked him what the homework assignment was, even if I’d already written it down.
He leaned to say something to Jessica, and then they both turned to look at me. I quickly averted my gaze.
“Relax,” Angie said. “Why would anyone think you auditioned just to follow Isaac? By that logic, so could Justin.” She grinned. “Anyone who asks, tell ‘em you did it for Mr. Paulson’s extra credit.”
The blood drained from my face. “Mr. Paulson…”
Who was at the front of the class now, beaming a smile right at me.
“Happy Monday, folks. Some announcements; so happy to report that our very own Justin Baker and Willow Holloway have both landed roles in the HCT production of Hamlet.”
He started clapping his hands, encouraging the others to do the same. Half-hearted applause went around but for Angie who slapped her palms together and let out a whoop.
I gritted my teeth. “For real, Angie?”
Mr. Paulson beamed. “You will both be awarded extra credit toward our Poetry and Drama unit this spring.” His smile fell. “And if you could please extend congratulations to Mr. Pearce on our behalf, I would appreciate it.”
He was looking right at me, and the class saw it. I wanted to slink under my desk, my cheeks burning.
You don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, remember?
Only I did. A little. I blamed the thaw in my detachment on Angie. The girl was impossible to dislike and oddly, she’d made me feel normal by doing nothing at all.
I sat up and nodded faintly at Mr. Paulson. Justin craned around and gave me a friendly smile and an inquisitive look, his brows raised. He was gorgeous—nice eyes, strong jaw.
And while he didn’t have the meathead douchebag aura of Ted Bowers, something about him made my stomach tighten instead of tingle with butterflies.
At lunch, I sat with The Greatest People You Will Ever Meet, and they crowed over my casting news.
“Congrats,” Jocelyn said, sitting beside Caroline. Their hands were on the table next to each other, not touching but as close as they dared. “Your first time onstage?”
“Shakespeare, straight out the gate,” Caroline said when I nodded. “That’s not going to be easy.”
“Especially on stage with Isaac,” Nash said, and winced as Angie elbowed him. “What? I’m just telling the truth. The entire cast is going to have to up their game.”
“But Mr. Ford won’t let me fail, right?” I asked. “He’ll put me out of my misery if I’m in over my head.” I looked around. “Right?”
“You’re not going to fail, you’re going to do great,” Angie said. “Won’t she?”
The others agreed with enthusiasm, and then we all fell silent as Jessica Royce approached our table with two of the Plastics. She flipped a lock of silky dark hair over her shoulder.
“Hey, Willow. Please pass on to Mr. Pearce our sincerest congratulations,” she said, echoing Mr. Paulson almost word for word. “And congrats to you too, on getting a part.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to channel Isaac’s stony expression.
Jessica’s smile was wide, but it didn’t come anywhere near her eyes. “You have to hand it to her, ladies,” she said to her friends. “Some girls would just ask for a guy’s phone number. Willow takes it to a whole new level.”
The girls tittered and moved on, Jessica twiddling her fingers at me in farewell.
“I thought you said your mean girls weren’t so mean,” I said.
“We’re stale and boring,” Nash said. “You’re fresh blood.”
“I still don’t get why my being in the play has anything to do with Isaac.”
“Jealousy,” Angie said. “The only reason they go see the plays is because of him. He never gave anyone here the time of day, but you just scored yourself a front row seat to the Isaac Show.”
I rolled my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, he’s just a guy. Jesus, even my dad gave me an earful.”
Angie frowned. “What does he know about it?”
“Some guy he works with has a daughter here. She told him all sorts of shit about Isaac’s home life.”
“Let me guess, Tessa Vance?” Caroline rolled her eyes. “Her dad works at Wexx. Last year, she got a hold of Isaac’s cell phone number and asked him out over a text. He shot her down, and her little brother stole her phone, screenshotted the exchange, and posted it on Facebook.”
I froze up at the thought of a guy, however young, using screenshots to humiliate a girl. It hit way too close to home.
“What happened to Tessa?” I said.
“Mass humiliation,” Jocelyn said.
“What did Isaac say in the text? Was he a dick to her?”
“Worse,” she said. “He wrote, No, thanks.”
I blinked, my chest loosening. “That’s it?”
Angie nodded. “That’s it. And when Tessa asked if he might want to expand on that, he never replied.”
“Tessa’s been talking shit about Isaac ever since, to recover,” Caroline said.
“She’s relentless,” Nash said. “Always the first one to whisper ‘murder’ whenever Pearce senior isn’t seen around town.”
I wrinkled my nose. Apparently country high school bullshit wasn’t all that different from city high school bullshit. In a lot of ways, it was worse. My high school in Manhattan was big enough to hide secrets in. Here, you coughed and half the student body heard it.
“Well, whatever,” I said, relieved Isaac hadn’t been a complete asshole in this scenario. “I’m not in the play to follow Isaac unless he’s giving advice. I don’t know what I’m doing. And I have no idea how I’m going to get to and from rehearsal every night.”
“Your parents can’t help?”
“It was like twisting my dad’s arm to get him to sign off on the paperwork since I’m a minor. He works late most nights anyway and my mother was never the ‘carpool and cupcakes’ kind of mom. She’s not about to start now.”
“I’ll help when I can,” Angie said, “but you need to learn to drive, girl.”
“Or get a ride home with Isaac,” Nash said, and caught Angie’s pointed stare. “What? I’m being practical.”
“What about Justin Baker?” Angie said, jerking her chin to where Justin sat with Doug Keely, Ted Bowers, and couple of other jocks. “Your Laertes.”
“He’s super-hot,” Jocelyn stared and caught Caroline’s pointed look. “If you’re in to that sort of thing. Which I’m not.”
I smiled at the cuteness of the couples in front of me with a wistful kind of ache. I glanced over at Justin Baker and found him watching me. He smiled that friendly, curious smile and I quickly looked away.
“Who is Laertes again?” I asked Angie.
“Ophelia’s brother,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Girl, you need to get to work on that play. Maybe start by reading it.”
That afternoon, Angie gave me a ride to downtown Harmony after school. “What’s the rehearsal schedule again?”
“Monday, Wednesday, Friday nights and Saturday afternoon,” I said. “It’ll be every weeknight and all weekend as we get closer to opening night.”
“I got you covered on rides down here, and we can hang out at The Scoop sometimes, but you still got a lot of ground to cover between now and seven o’clock.” She leaned an arm on the steering wheel. “Why don’t you want to go home?”
“Because I can’t get back here,” I said. “I’m fine, I promise. My parents are self-absorbed assholes but it’s not worse than that.”
“Okay,” Angie said. “You know, when you first walked into class with your Disney princess hair and Manhattan clothes I thought you’d be a self-absorbed asshole, too. But you’re okay in my book, Holloway.”
“Thanks, McKenzie.” I gathered my stuff. “I’m going to kick it in the library for about four hours.”
“A suggestion about how you can spend that time…?”
“I’m going to read the damn play.”
She laughed. “Text me if you get stranded.”
“Thanks,” I said, climbing out of the car. I bent between the door and the interior. “Thanks a lot, Angie. For a lot of things.”
She smiled. “Don’t get soft on me now, girl. And I want a full report of what it’s like watching Isaac Pearce in action.”
I rolled my eyes. “I might even do some acting too.”
She made a fist. “Power to the women people.”
I shut the door and stepped out into bright, icy sunlight. Winter felt like it was releasing its hold and the air was clean and biting. I hopped over an exhaust-tinged pile of snow at the curb and headed toward the public library, about a block and a half from the HCT. I found a table under a window and settled in with a copy of Hamlet and my laptop open to Sparks Notes for when I got stuck. Which was frequently.
The old Willow was a straight-A student who considered going to college for something to do with English Lit. But Hamlet hadn’t been a part of school curriculum and I’d never seen one of the film adaptations.
I scanned Ophelia’s scenes and was relieved to see nothing overtly romantic on the pages. Hamlet and Ophelia’s happy relationship existed prior to the start of the play. Their first scene together was essentially her—under pressure from her father—breaking up with him.
Hamlet torments Ophelia, kills her father.
She goes nuts, kills herself.
The End.
No romance. No declarations of love. No touching.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
File this under: things I should’ve investigated before auditioning.
I might’ve been the greenest of actors on that stage, but at least I wouldn’t embarrass myself by having a panic attack in front of the cast from having to kiss or touch anyone. The black X across my body would stay invisible while I used Ophelia’s scenes where she descends into madness to exorcise some more demons and find a little peace.
It was an innocent, naïve hope, and one that would eventually shatter into a million fucking pieces.