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Angie raised her eyebrows.
“Shit. You saw that?”
“Don’t feel bad,” she said. “He has that effect on everyone.” She jerked her chin at Doug Keely across the room. “Sometimes the jocks beat their chests and toss a rude comment his way, but Isaac shuts them down quick. Like a pouncing lion. Or a jaguar?” She tapped a fingernail to her front teeth. “What’s the sexiest genus in the big cat family?”
“Panther,” I whispered, then rolled my eyes. Still, it felt good to gossip about a boy with a friend. Normal.
Except the boy in question is actually a man and sitting right next to me.
“Panther, yes,” Angie said, entirely too loudly. “Anyway, what was I saying?”
“Jocks giving Isaac shit?” I whispered.
“Mm. It’s glorious to behold. I’m not a fan of violence, but watching him in any kind of action is hot. He’s so…electric.” She gave me a lascivious look. “It makes you wonder what he’s like in bed. You know?”
A little thrill shot down my spine before turning ugly and heavy in my chest. Tightening my lungs, turning my breath shallow. The idea of being in bed with a beautiful man like Isaac—or any man for that matter—was a sweet ache of want that rotted under the black X. A swift sadness filled me, how such an innocuous comment and such a natural part of human nature could become so tainted. I sat back, away from Angie’s warm energy.
Boy talk, apparently, was another thing to put on my list of things Xavier had X’d out of my life.
Angie misread my reaction and her friendly smile fell. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m one hundred percent Nash’s girl—”
“No, I’m not…” I stammered. “I know you are. I just—”
“Good morning, class,” Mr. Paulson said, moving to the front of the room.
I turned my attention to him with relief, though Angie’s perplexed attention lingered on my left. On my right, Isaac was staring straight ahead, his face a stone. All at once, I was sure he’d heard every word of mine and Angie’s conversation. Embarrassment swamped me and I tried to dismiss it. He was probably used to girls whispering about him and anyway, I was too young to be worthy of his attention.
“Couple of announcements,” Mr. Paulson said. “The Spring Fling tickets go on sale next week. The dance will be held in the gym on March…” He peered at the paper in his hand. “March fifteenth. Also, if any of you read the Harmony Tribune instead of Twitter, you’ll know the Harmony Community Theatre announced its next show will be Shakespeare’s Hamlet.”
As if there were another Hamlet. Immediately, all eyes turned to Isaac, who didn’t move an inch under the sudden scrutiny.
“I know many of you have seen our own Mr. Pearce’s unbelievable performance as Oedipus,” Mr. Paulson said, beaming like a proud dad. He pointed a thumb at himself. “This classics lover saw it twice. Bravo, Isaac. I’m sure I speak for many of us when I say we look forward to seeing you take on The Bard’s most iconic play.”
Isaac made no response but to nod slightly. I frowned, wondering if Isaac even needed to audition for roles any more. Then I remembered him falling to his knees in agony, fake blood pouring down his cheeks.
He probably didn’t.
“On that note,” Mr. Paulson said, “the HCT is holding open auditions next Wednesday, seven p.m. at the theater.”
My head snapped up. Out of my peripheral, I saw Isaac’s head jerk my way in response. We made eye contact and again I felt that zap of electricity, this time laced with curiosity before he looked away.
“I’ll leave the info on the bulletin board for any eager thespians who want to give it a shot,” Mr. Paulson said. “In fact, I’ll give extra credit for our Poetry and Drama unit at the end of the year to any who lands a part. Or volunteers to help with the production.”
This news didn’t send anyone rushing to the bulletin board, and Paulson began the day’s lesson about the symbolism in Crime and Punishment. I stared through the blackboard, my thoughts filling with possibilities.
Open auditions.
Deep within me, the flicker of light that reached to the stage Friday night, wanting what Isaac could do, reached up again. It burned straight and clear for an instant, then cowered again. What the hell did I know about acting? The last time I’d been on stage was my riveting portrayal of Monkey #3 in Ms. Mellon’s kindergarten production, Meet the Jungle Animals!
Bad idea, I thought. This is a real theater with real actors. And it’s Shakespeare. People t
rain for years to do Shakespeare.
When the bell rang, I lingered by Mr. Paulson’s bulletin board, long enough to mentally grab HCT’s website address. Angie’s eagle eyes noticed, though. Leaving the room, she linked her arm in mine with a familiarity I wanted to both lean on and squirm from.
“Why, Miss Holloway,” she said. “I had no idea you were a fan of old Bill Shakespeare.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I’m just…curious. And my dad is all up my ass about extra curriculars.”
