Not that it mattered, though, in the end.
Lewis and Harper began dating in the new year.
A FATAL FEUD
Headlines scatter across the screen:
Nadine Heywood Stole My Boyfriend
Nadine Heywood Calls Harper Moore a
B**** at the MTV Summer Bash
Nadine Heywood Confronts Harper
Moore at Moore’s Bel-Air Home
Zoe Holland:Harper was in love with Lewis. But he’d dated Nadine first. Harper was riling her up with every single kiss and each stolen look. But theyalreadydisliked each other. So I never believed that was the root of their hatred, no matter what they claimed years later.
Lewis Stamper:Look, we’ll get to what happened, but that’s beside the point. Toward the end of the year, CADS grew intense. Everyone turned oneach other. As Harper’s boyfriend, I was the first to notice she was being targeted more than most. Her auditions were sabotaged, her scripts stolen, her costumes damaged. Someone even planted drugs on her. Which … you know. Nadine Heywood isn’t exactly known for her sobriety, is she?
Amos DuPont: Nadine was volatile. I lived with her back then—it was all slamming doors and passive-aggressive notes. Other people were simply in her way, whether they stood in front of the sink or in front of an Academy Award.
Ivan Drozdov, in his Malibu home, runs a hand through his hair, evidently reluctant to talk about any of this.
Ivan Drozdov:Nadine didn’t care for romance. She was focused. So if anythingdidhappen, it was certainly never about the boyfriend. Does any of this matter, anyway? We’re talking about a murder case. Isn’t CADS a little inconsequential?
Jasmine McKenna:There is, of course, historically, only one person who would want to hurt Harper.
A flyer appears on screen:Blood Wedding, 1993 performance at Reginald Theater, Central Art andDrama School. Nadine Heywood and Harper Moore are listed on either side of Lewis Stamper, the ink blurring.
Nadine Heywood: The whole world knows what Harper’s stance on what happened is: I stole her boyfriend. Hardly. So if you want the truth, it all began at the retreat, a small lodge on the coast for us to dive into the world of one play, to know it intimately and without reservation so that when roles were cast we could launch right in. Me and the boyfriend? We were cast as lovers.
March 1993
BY THE TIME THE RETREAT ROLLED AROUND, I WAS READY to strangle Harper with my bare hands.
She hadn’t made further efforts at friendship, exactly, but she’d tried for inclusion—extending invites to house parties and lunches. I shunned them as politely as I could, too humiliated to confront her or leave any inkling that I’d overheard what she’d said about me—which left Harper so evidently confused by my cold-shouldering that it made me feel a little better, like I was clawing backsomedignity by publicly refusing her.
But I wanted to strike harder, to prove that I didn’t need her handouts or her pity or to becollected.So I set about beating her where I felt the most powerful: on a stage.
We’d always vied for roles, but as we settled into the rhythm of our specialties, it seemed my premonition that she was the one worthy of my attention proved true. She was my competition, always. We were the top of the class; we were oftentypecast the same—tall, skinny, attractive, lashing tongues that demanded snark and drama more than comedy, a resolute firmness to our performances that rarely overshadowed but drew the eye, nonetheless. And it had already become distinctly clear that the stage could not tolerate us both; we jarred against each other, clashed where we should sing.
I was concerned CADS might see it the same way: that there was no need for both of us to be invited back next year.
The average second-year class was thirty students. Third year was often twelve.
Each place was decided by a board of faculty with one glaring exception: the Wilfred Allen Award. And that was worth more than our degrees.
Bestowed upon one first-year student following their final productions, the Wilfred Allen Award symbolized brilliance. Every single recipient had gone onto greatness. Dozens of Oliviers. Multiple BAFTAs. Two Oscars. Winning that award might as well enshrine your name into the halls of theater’s best.
And, most importantly for me, it came with a hefty scholarship for the next two years—which you were guaranteed to be invited to attend.
I couldn’t bear the thought of returning home for summer, taking up my old leisure center job, and trying to work enough minimum wage shifts within those three months that it might sustain me for a year in London.
Or, worse, the fear of ending up there permanently.
I needed that award, which meant I needed to give the best performance of my life, and that meant I needed to make the most of the annual woodland retreat—or, rather,immersive study module. It was effectively one large preparation for auditions, encouraging us to connect with our plays in their intended setting, so all the available options had a forest theme. We weren’t guaranteed a role in our chosen play, but the school would accommodate where possible. I choseBlood Weddingbecause I knew the Mother was right for me.
