The school was buzzing. Everyone was talking about Jack and Lilly. By now, every student at Crestview High School had either already read about it on social media, seen it on the news, or heard about it from someone else. There were so many differing opinions, and everyone wanted to talk about it.

Hearing each distinct variation of the story was exhausting, especially when I knew the truth. Everyone from the cheerleaders to the freshmen wanted to hear the latest news on the ever-elusive Jack Garrison. Kids who'd never spoken to him were saying how they always knew that Jack was a hero. Others argued that Jack framed his father to get all the family money.

By now, the tale was an overdramatized jumble of facts and fiction. Some were claiming that Jack carried his sisters out of their burning home. That was false. There was no fire.

Others said that Jack had bravely wrestled the gun from his father. Also untrue since, according to Shayna, Jack and his sisters fled the scene.

There were even a few people convinced he was dead. That was laughable. Even though I hadn't seen Jack since before that night, I knew he was fine, at least according to Shayna.

Samantha was lapping up the attention. Her father had volunteered to be Jack's lawyer, so suddenly, it seemed like she had insider information.

Jules was disgusted by all the attention that Jack was getting. They kept saying that Jack was too famous before all this happened, and Samantha didn't even seem to care about the play anymore. She was constantly texting and stirring up more gossip.

It worried me. The state of our play was uncertain. We didn't know when Jack and Anton were coming back. Jack wasn't answering his messages, and he hadn't so much as posted on social media since the incident.

Shayna had mentioned social services, and if Jack's mother was on death's door like everyone was saying, things could get so much worse for Jack. I hoped he would be okay at the end of the fallout.

After school, Hugh and I planned to take flowers to Anton to get some answers about where the play was headed. We hadn't known about the guards the lawyers had hired to keep away the media and anything else deemed a threat to Anton and Jack.

The two of us walked up to the gate to push the button to request entry to Anton's apartment when we found our path blocked. A burly man crossed his arms and obstructed our way.

"No visitors," he growled.

"We wanted to give Mr. Sterling some flowers," Hugh said. "We're kids in his theater class."

"Mr. Sterling isn't seeing anyone," the man growled. "Be on your way, or I'll call the police."

"Sir, can you at least give him the flowers for us?" I asked.

"No," the man snatched the flowers and threw them in a nearby dumpster.

"Well, he was friendly," Hugh said as we drove away. "I guess we can go to my house."

Hugh's place wasn't huge. It was a single-story, and the outside was painted blue. Hugh claimed that it was his mother's favorite color. He parked out front, and we went inside.

He lived there with his adoptive parents, who were bankers. He had an older sister, a younger sister, and a toddler foster brother. His room was a renovated large closet that fit a twin loft bed with a desk underneath.

We sat in the living room while his older sister Jessie prattled on the phone in the kitchen about the sorry state of the cheer team. Their foster toddler, Charlie, was running around the coffee table throwing crayons.

"Sorry," Hugh said. "I know it's chaotic."

Hugh's house felt more lived-in than my own home. I was actually enjoying watching the toddler run around, and hearing Jessie in the background reminded me of how long it had been since I'd seen either of my sisters. 

"Rumor-free," I said. "So that's a plus."

It was nice not to be at school. I'd known Jack was popular, but over the past day or so, I'd realized exactly how many people Jack interacted with. Everyone seemed to have a personal connection with Jack that they thought was relevant to his story.

"I know school this week hasn't been fun," he said. "Do you have all your lines memorized?"

Tasha and I worked on lines over video chat for about two hours last night. She'd quizzed me on each line with flashcards where we'd written the previous line, which she'd read off, and I would have to recite my next line. I'd had about a seventy percent success rate when we started, which, after some repetition, Tasha helped me bring up to ninety-five percent.

"Mostly," I said. "I'm definitely nervous about Jack, though. I don't think the show can go on if we don't have an Orlando."

"We'll make it work," Hugh said. "Charlie, no-"

Hugh jumped off the couch to stop the toddler from shoving crayons up his nose. His glasses slid down his face, and he sighed as he set the crayons on a ledge that Charlie couldn't reach.

"Sorry, Rita," he said. "Maybe we should have gone to your house."

The noise was fine. It was better than my father and his unhinged musings about The Tempest. He'd reverted the house back to its natural state of disarray only hours after my mother left.

Charlie fell over, and an awful smell filled the air. Hugh sighed and picked up the little boy. Charlie laughed, and Hugh swore.

"Mom," he said. "Charlie's done it again. I think that we've gotta stop it with the sweet potatoes."

Mrs. Donnavan walked into the living room and took Charlie from Hugh, letting the smell waft away with her. Hugh looked at me apologetically.

"We can always leave," he said. "I know that most people think my house is a zoo."

"Shelby," Jessie was shouting in the kitchen. "We absolutely have to have her back. Do you want to split up the team? This is all your fault, you know! I hate you!"

"Maybe my house is better," I said.

Hugh drove, and we made it there in a few minutes. My father's car was parked out front, and I almost regretted not suggesting a fast food place.

I let us in the house and breathed in the aura of crazy professor. It also happened to smell like paper, faint burned popcorn, and dirty socks that had been incidentally flung over a lampshade. Typical.

"Daddy?" I shouted. "I'm home. I brought a friend."

My father popped his head into the living room. "Rita, honey, have you seen my bagpipes?"

"No," I said very quickly. "Why do you need them?"

My father smiled. "I was talking to some students about playing traditional folk tunes over on the quad. They seemed to find the idea of my kilt and bagpipes wonderful."

I silently cursed every Shakespearean character. His students more than likely thought it would be fun to make a TikTok about their professor for mockery later. He wouldn't realize that, though, until he got an angry email from the university demanding to know what he was thinking.

"Maybe we can look for them another day," I said. "I brought a friend. This is Hugh."

"Hugh," my father smiled. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Finch. Sorry, Rita's Mom isn't here. She's been deployed... again."

My mother left at four this morning to catch a flight back to her base. My father was always a little dazed right after she left as if he wasn't sure she would return home again. He'd be back to normal in a few days, only mentioning her when I brought her up.

"Thanks, Daddy," I said. "We're going on the porch so we don't disturb you."

"Yes, yes," my father said. "Go on."

I led Hugh through the untidy living room and moved a pile of reference novels about Othello to access the backdoor. Once we made it out on the patio, we were immersed in blissful silence.

My camping chair was still under the house's eaves. I borrowed one of my sisters' chairs from the shed for Hugh to sit on. 

The backyard wasn't much to look at. The grass was messy and could have been greener. Whoever owned the house had planted a few rosebud bushes and a scrubby tree.

"I didn't know your mother was in the military," Hugh said as we sat down.

I felt my cheeks flush. "Yeah, she's an air force pilot. She lives on base."

"So your parents are mostly separated," Hugh said. "Your father is the Shakespeare professor moving from campus to campus, and your mother is military. I knew you moved a lot, but I guess that explains it."

I nodded. "I always thought it was fun going from place to place. My sisters didn't like it. Mara wanted to play sports at school, and Izzy always got attached to people and places. Not to mention, our father is a little..."

Hugh laughed. "His idea of home decor looks like a portable library after a nuclear explosion."

I laughed. My father loved his books. He always had to hire professionals to pack them when we moved because he was too distracted and would start reading the titles instead of putting them in boxes.

"Every place we lived, I always found a place to get away," I said. "I like coming out here. This is my stage and my solitude."

"We're just players," Hugh said. "And the play is almost played. Jack is going to make it back. You just gotta have a little faith. Everything is going to work out."

He sounded so sure when he said it. As we ran lines and practiced our parts, I hoped we could somehow cull the bad, smile at the good, and come together in time.