I go to school with Marnie the following day, and nobody seems to mind that I am there with her at all. She shows me her schedule, and I am surprised that there are eight periods instead of the standard six. She is taking Physics, Advanced Government, Advanced Calculus, European Literature, Home Economics, Swimming, Painting, and Band. She has lunch between European Literature and Home Economics, right in the middle of the day.
I am immensely bored for the first hour or so of the day. I try to keep my head up while Mr. Pitt is speaking. He tries to include me in the lecture, but knows full well that science of any kind isn't my forte. I may be bored, but it is not because I don't know the information. In fact, I took a physics course one summer just for fun. I am allowed to partake in the quiz that day, and even Mr. Pitt is surprised when I answer every question correctly.
By Advanced Government with Ms. Lester, I am attempting to wrap my head around when she says President Carter that she is referring to the current president in office. It is very challenging, but the work itself is surprisingly easy to absorb. She asks us to make a prediction for the government in the next century, and I raise my hand.
"Yes, Rose?" she asks. "You are our guest from Simitler?" she asks, giving the class an opportunity to laugh at my expense.
"We will have an African American president in office on January 20...2009," I say, in an effort to show the class that I must consider the year.
"An African American President of the United States?" asks Ms. Lester, looking as if I am totally and completely crazy.
"And why not?" I ask. "Just because they may be a different race than you or me, does not mean that they aren't capable of running the country."
She bristles at that. "Are you trying to imply that I may have a problem with a race other than that of Caucasian, Miss Radcliffe?"
I fix her with my most innocuous look. "Well, Ms. Lester, I am merely taking my opinion from your reaction. I can't help it if you seemed to doubt me, nor that you seemed a bit offended at the prospect."
"I was not offended."
"Then pardon me for being wrong," I say resolutely. "We are only human, after all. We are allowed to make mistakes."
"You're lucky she didn't give you detention or Saturday school," Marnie hisses at me as we walk down the hall after class.
"They have that?" I ask, like she's full of crap.
"Yes. Don't they still have it in 2013?"
"No," I say, smirking at her. "All the extra funding they manage to get is going into the damn sports department. They've even resolved to budget so more money is set aside for the teams by cutting things like drama and music."
Marnie makes a shocked face as we walk into her Advanced Calculus class, with the name Mrs. Anderson printed on the door. The next hour is uneventful, with me getting a B on the quiz I am allowed to take, without ever taking a calculus class in my life. Mrs. Anderson asks me if I've ever taken it before, and she smiles when she hands me back my paper.
The topic of discussion in European Literature in something so stereotypical I want to laugh. It is Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and Rodney just so happens to be there, so naturally David is as well. For whatever reason, Mr. Blake—so is so obviously gay it's amusing—tells Rodney and Marnie to do the balcony scene and for me and David to do it, too, and then for the class to critique, rate, and compare the performances.
We are expected to perform it cold, so as we'll be able to pretend we're thinking of this magic up on the spot. Mr. Blake puts up a table to act like a balcony, and for Marnie and me to sit upon a stool behind it. As for the climbing, he just asks Rodney and David to mime it. I think they should be more than capable to do that.
"Go!" urges Mr. Blake to me. "Let's take it from that 'O Romeo, Romeo' mush that makes us all long for our own Romeo!"
I cannot understand why he would want me to play Juliet at all, let alone go first, but I do as he says, stopping my hand from trembling with the small paperback playbook in my hand. "O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet," I begin, feeling like some weird person by speaking this Elizabethan-Shakespearean way.
Then David speaks, and it almost as if everyone in the whole of the classroom has disappeared completely. He walks toward me. "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"
And then it is my turn to speak, and I find myself inching closer to David, wanting him to take me into his arms then. "Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee take all myself."
David chooses then to scale the balcony, and he kneels on the little chair provided for him so as we are face to face, eye to eye, faces almost touching, and I sense that I can hear his breathing becoming a bit hoarse at this prospect, but I do hope he knows full well that there will be no repeats of Friday night. "I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo."
I can barely get out the next line. "What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night so stumblest on my counsel?"
David consults the script momentarily before replying. "By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee; had I it written, I would tear the word."
I am so on top of things that I cannot help but answer him immediately. "My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?" I ask of him, feeling at one with Juliet.
He chuckles a bit. "Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike."
I lean forward a bit, desperately wishing that he and I were alone. Our chemistry was entirely electric, and it was not something you could find or create in beakers or test tubes. This was real; this, right here. "How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here."
David mimics my leaning towards him. "With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me."
I consult my script briefly. "If they do see thee, they will murder thee."
"Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords: Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity."
"I would not for the world they saw thee here."
David and I continue to make loving looks to one another as we continue with the script. I want desperately to throw my arms around his neck and never let go, but I remember the class and keep one hand glued to the script and the other gripping the desk which separates us. I cannot show my real and true love for him—not yet.
"If my heart's dear love—" he begins.
I reach out to touch his lips at that. "Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast!" I give him a quick kiss that makes my throat burn with a sudden fire before I turn away from him then and move to hop off the stool with a smirk on my face.
"O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"
I try not to laugh at the pathetic expression he has come up with for acting unsatisfied. "What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?"
"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine," he replies.
"I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: And yet I would it were to give again."
"Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?"
I lean in closer to him. "But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." I turn as if the nurse who isn't there has called me. "I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again." I lean in and kiss David again. The taste of fire doesn't leave me, and I feel as if I want to wrap myself in his arms and for him to take me away forever. I hop off the stool and run away from him.
"O blessed, blessed night!" David shouts. "I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial."
I rush back to him and position myself carefully upon the stool. "Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honorable, thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, by one that I'll procure to come to thee, where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; and all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay and follow thee my lord throughout the world."
Mr. Blake comically screeches, "Madam!" making the whole of the twenty-seven students or so in the classroom laugh.
I struggle to keep character in those final moments. "I come, anon.—But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee—"
Mr. Blake screeches madam again.
I find myself dropping the script then and allow myself to lean forward to take his hand into mine into a grip which is full of passion. "By and by, I come: —To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: Tomorrow will I send."
"So thrive my soul—"
I cut David off with another swift kiss and smile at him. "A thousand times good night!" I say in a stage whisper, before finally allowing myself to throw my arms around him and kiss him. I am totally and completely surprised when he does the same, and the look of hurt in his eyes when I must break away from him, and hop off the stool, before I run to Juliet's nurse lest she be there to catch us.
David climbs down from the chair that has served us well as a tree limb and turns towards the audience of students, who appear to be enraptured. "A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books, but love from love, toward school with heavy looks."
We are greeted with applause and return the books to Mr. Blake before taking our seats by Marnie and Rodney respectively. Marnie gives me a grin and makes her perfectly plucked eyebrows go up and down. From the corner of my eye I see Rodney nudging David. David, who has to make it look like we do stuff like this all the time, merely shrugs at the praise he is offered and chuckles along with him. I remain silent, wishing that I could have a moment to speak to David.
I want not to be just friends anymore.
I want to be his real girlfriend.