Chapter Text
Scene 1
“You will not be formally performing Romeo and Juliet— or any romance, for that matter— this year, as you already know,” Gwendolyn told us, her gold bangles jingling on her bony wrists as she waved them about. “Some of you, though, may be lucky enough to be chosen to play small roles in this year’s production of it.”
Meredith sat beside me, and on her other side sat Richard, suddenly smirking, as though he was already promised a role in the aforementioned play. With how heavily and unabashedly favored as he was, I would not doubt it.
“Now, can someone tell me one of the most quintessential themes of Romeo and Juliet?”
“Love,” Wren answers.
“Precisely. Naturally, then, this must be communicable through you. The audience should be able to feel your oozing love. They should see it in your every move. Camilo could perhaps guide you on that better than I could, though you all know he’s off doing better things.” Her tone led me to believe she didn’t entirely agree. She was always a stubborn woman, certain and set in her opinions. Part of me thought that what she did believe in was the superiority of her class.
I wondered what it was physically (as that was Camillo’s department) that Gwendolyn would have us do. She continued, “I’ll be giving all of you an assignment. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’ll be partnered up, so think of it as group work. Don’t write this off as an easy A; of course, I expect emotional investment and development.
“Relationships,” she said emphatically. “Those are what you’ll have to portray, in all their complex intricacies and irrefutable affections. All things you’d have to know when you’re cast as a lover. Thus, for this assignment, you will be tasked to emulate a relationship with the partner I give you.”
I felt the group at large exhale a startled breath, with myself not quite exempt from this phenomenon. We looked around, sharing confused and in some cases vindictive looks.
“I don’t expect you to be or fall in love,” Gwendolyn continued explaining, uncaring to our shock. “but I expect it to seem that way. I would ask that you show off especially in front of the other disciplines; the unknowing observer’s opinion will prove vital for me to conspire with so that I may judge you. The charade will last roughly one month; it may be shorter or longer depending on your performance. Any questions? Ah, yes, you.”
A feminine voice spoke up from behind me. “What if we’re already in a relationship?” The voice— who I identified as Evelyn— asked. She was as sweet a girl as any, good gentle youth. However, she possessed an absolutely deplorable memory, and was only just barely off-book come curtain call. Privately, I didn’t suspect she’d make it another year at Dellecher.
“Not for this month you’re not,” Gwendolyn responded swiftly, quick to stamp out anything that would exempt someone from her looming assignment. “Anyone else?”
Perhaps frightened by Gwendolyn’s fast and certain ease, the room remained silent where some questions should have liked to fill it. “Excellent. Let’s get started with our pairings, shall we?”
Her eyes scanned the room as though she were a shark, and Richard must have been bleeding with the way her eyes were drawn to him. They did not move, and she called him to the front of the room where he went obligingly if not with a bit of dread in his step.
“I’ve no interest in impeding my students’ private business, but I must ask, you and Meredith are together, yes?” By now it would be a wonder for any staff, let alone our teachers, to not know they were together. They were never subtle, never shy about their relationship (and our frequent referral to them as Meredick, as one unit, certainly didn’t help to hide anything).
“We are,” Richard answered. His response was simple, but its plainness did nothing to hide that glimmer of pride and maybe possessiveness in his eyes, like he owned a most coveted treasure that he was not inclined to let others so much as peek at.
“Not for this month, I’m afraid,” Gwendolyn told him, not looking apologetic in the least. “Richard. You’re a strong actor, and you know that. But romantic roles aren’t your forte. At least, they haven’t been. But we’ll change that, yes? For you, I’ve selected a versatile partner, one you could learn from, and who also stands to learn from you. You’re both already friends, if I am correct. That should make this a little easier on you both. Filippa, join us up here, will you?”
On my right, I hear Filippa exhale incredulously. “Lucky me,” she mutters, and I fight to cover my snort of laughter. Despite how reluctant she sounded, Filippa goes and stands beside Richard, though they stand stiffly with an almost awkward amount of space between them.
“Great, there we are. I hope you’ll do me proud.”
For a moment there’s nothing but awkward silence hanging thick in the air with Richard and Filippa likely dreading their assignment, and none of the rest of us wanting to say anything either, lest we draw attention to ourselves. Gwendolyn at least seems to have a twinge of empathy in her eyes when she says, “Go on, greet your partner and head back to your seats.”
“Right,” Filippa steels herself, “afternoon, Richard.”
“You can give me more than that.”
Without acknowledging her teacher, Filippa amends, “Afternoon, darling” in a painfully sarcastic tone.
Resigned to the fact she likely wouldn’t be getting any more out of the two until they became better acclimated to her bizarre idea, Gwendolyn excused them.
“Moving on, then. James.”
Nothing more needed to be said. With one fleeting look to me, James hoisted himself up from his floor pillow to stand next to Gwendolyn, his hands almost unnaturally still at his sides.
“You typically are easy to cast. ‘The fool in love,’ I believe you once titled your archetype. That’s exactly what made finding you a partner for this exercise so difficult; you need to be challenged. That being said, I think I’ve made quite a good selection. Oliver, come on up.”
For a moment, I almost didn’t move, didn’t do anything. Why would she be talking to me? There are no other Oliver’s in our year, though, so I get up and meander to the front of the room to stand beside James. When our eyes meet, he seems just as startled as I am.
Gwendolyn starts talking, but I strangely feel as though my ears are about to begin ringing. Why would she think to pair me with James? “As for my reasoning and expectations: James, I feel as though acting in a same-sex relationship will provide something out of your wheelhouse; a new avenue for you to explore creatively. You may never know what a role calls for, after all. As for Oliver, I hope that you can learn from the best.”
I look away from our teacher to once again look to James, who looks back a moment later. He gives me a smile, reassuring and only slightly lopsided if you know where to look.
“Of course, if either of you are uncomfortable with the arrangement, I can pair you off differently,” Gwendolyn said with a hint of softness and perhaps understanding in her voice. Despite this, however, her expectations had been made clear, and it would probably be ever so foolish to oppose her like this.
James must have been thinking the same as he said, “No, it’s alright. Thank you for the challenge.”
“It’s my job,” she replied, clearly pleased with herself. Mercifully, she let us return to our floor pillows without encouraging us to perform our first act of partnership as she did to Richard and Filippa. Once we were settled, James rested a hand on my knee, light and barely there as the soft whisper of a breeze. I thought nothing of it, and was in fact pleased with it, as Gwendolyn flashed us an approving smile.
The rest of these castings, so to speak, went off without major incident. There was much reluctance among the established couples who were split up, some vitriolic looks from some to others that were displeased about the pairings (such as Richard to the boy who didn’t seem all that pressed to be selected with Meredith), and a lot of shy smiles and awkward laughs. The last couple, two girls (perhaps left over from James and I being partnered) with palpable affinity for theatre and perhaps the romance genre in general, were the boldest of us all, nearly skipping back to their places with fingers intertwined.
“Now that that’s settled,” Gwendolyn said with a breezy sort of finality, clapping her hands together and making her bracelets clink together like bells, “off you go. Make me proud. Make Shakespeare proud!”
Scene 2
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing James said to me once we finally returned to our room. The day had been long, and still would have been even had we all not spent hours in the library together, to the point where I was confused and about to say ‘you’ve nothing to apologize for’ until he clarified, “For Gwendolyn’s class, earlier. I should have checked in with you before accepting her assignment.” James, par for the course, began to undress, though his back was facing me now. It may have come from a place of shame, but I didn’t want to think of that.
“James, it’s alright. Really.” At that, he swiveled his head toward me, eyebrows slightly raised with a small smile as if to say, yeah? I continued with a shrug, “I figured you also thought it unwise to question Gwendolyn’s decision. If you hadn’t, I would’ve spoken up and said the same.”
Now properly ready for bed, as I was, James turned fully around, doing nothing to hide his relieved expression. “Good,” he says, “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“I’m not,” I said in case he still needed to hear it.
He nodded and told me he knows, now. I turned off the lights as James pulled back his covers. I laid down too, but remained facing James.
It appears he also wasn’t quite ready to drift off. He said, apprehensively, “This won’t ruin things between us, right?”
‘This’ being that looming project of ours. I thought it a bit unnecessary, how James was fretting. I cared about James as a friend a great deal, in a way that easily outweighed any awkwardness thrust upon us by Gwendolyn. “Of course not. We’re acting; that’s what we're here for.”
Although I couldn’t see him I was sure James was nodding, however clumsy the motion would be while lying down. “It’s what we do best,” he said.
I didn’t want to mention that that was what he did best— it was why I was partnered with him in the first place, apparently. “Good night, sweet prince,” I found myself saying instead. Perhaps that was me beginning our charade, or perhaps I was just saying goodnight.
Scene 3
By the time we made it to breakfast, it seemed that all of James’ apprehension from the previous night had dissipated. I, too, was emboldened by the few other theater couples making somewhat of a show out of their displays of affection. (Of course, not all of us began acting on the same day; Gwendolyn told us not to so as not to raise suspicion among the other disciplines about our assignment with the utmost intensity.)
James and I sat next to each other with Wren beside James, and Filippa in the seat across from me. Meredith was, for the time being, still at our table, though that didn’t stop Richard from spearing his eggs with a little too much intensity.
James had his arm around the back of my chair; the position was mostly friendly, but it was a good place to start, and we’d be giving others plenty more reasons to talk over the coming days.
“I’m here,” was Alexander’s grand statement as he arrived, though he sounded less than thrilled to be at the refectory when he could have been sleeping. Despite this apparent reluctance, he set down a tray with his characteristically large portion size.
“Morning,” Filippa greeted as he slid into the free seat on her right.
“Starting already, are you?” Alexander asked with a tinge of amusement in his voice, raising an eyebrow at James and me as I shoveled some of my leftover eggs onto his plate.
“Yeah, I suppose,” James said, quickly looking to me before meeting eyes with Alexander again.
“Well, good on you,” came Alexander’s reply. “Let your haste commend your duty. Get it done with. Rip the band-aid off, and so on.”
“Are you dreading your partner?” I asked out of curiosity.
He shrugged. “Not really. Gwendolyn gave me the same challenge she did James, even if she didn’t know.”
“You’ll rise to it, I'm sure,” Wren said, taking her time to smile at both Alexander and James.
“Has anyone checked our mailboxes today?” Meredith asked. “Sorry to interrupt,” she tacked on.
“No worries,” James said, vaguely skeptical. There had always been an odd sort of tension between him and Meredith, but I could only hope to guess at what it was. “And no, not to my knowledge.”
“Well, someone should,” Richard spoke up in a somewhat dismissive tone, as though he was somehow already exempt from providing that service.
“I’ll go,” I offered.
“I’ll come with you,” James volunteered.
Richard all but rolled his eyes. “Make haste, will you?”
I wasn’t sure what had given him the impression that we would be taking our sweet time with it, but I nodded nonetheless and stood, pushing in my chair and waiting for James to do the same before heading over to the other end of the refectory.
When we reached the mailboxes, an idea hit me, and I let my hand rest on James’ lower back. My touch was hardly more than a ghostly impression in reality, but James seemed aware of it anyway, leaning ever so slightly back into the touch.
“Starting now, yeah?” I muttered quietly, scanning the rows before us. Only Meredith had an envelope addressed to her, as far as I could tell. I reached out with my free hand to grab it.
“Yeah,” James all but breathed. “We’ll pass with flying colors; I believe in us.” He looked at the envelope in my hand, and did a quick once-over of the mailboxes once again before saying, “That’s all, I think. Let’s head back.”
As we turned around, I checked to see if any of the other students were staring. Normally, I’d hope to never be so openly gawked at offstage, but now, all the world was more literally a stage for us. I made hasty eye contact with one boy, but it seemed so casual I had no way of knowing if he was looking at my back moments before. For now, it was inconsequential.
Once we made it back to our table and returned to our seats, I handed the envelope to its rightful owner.
Meredith thanked me and began to tear it open as Filippa said, “Do you think that’s her allowance?”
“I bet Alexander hopes so,” James said wryly.
“Don’t say that as if you wouldn’t be glad as well,” he retorted.
“Well, we could do with more wine, if only to satiate your lust for it.”
As much pleasure as we took in teasing Alexander for his near shameful use of the alcohol Meredith spent her exuberant allowance on, the rest of us weren’t exempt from that indulgence, despite the less brazen ways we went about it.
“We ought to save some of it,” Filippa reasoned. (Whether she meant alcohol or the allowance by ‘it,’ I wasn’t so sure— it didn’t matter, though, as any of Meredith’s allowance that was considered communal wasn’t likely to be spent on much else.) “Halloween’s coming up soon.”
“What a party that’ll be,” said Alexander, sounding amused as though his statement was fact, as though he was a seer and knew it to be true.
“Try not to have too much fun,” Filippa warns, “you’ll have a girlfriend by then.”
“Yeah, a fake one. Maybe this’ll be worse than I thought,” Alexander lamented, sinking further down in his chair. I stifled a laugh; his dramatics were perfect for the stage, and amusing everywhere else.
“Screw your courage to the sticking place,” James quotes, pulling the laugh from my throat and eliciting one from the rest of the table.
If James was confident that this would go over well, then I would be, too.
Scene 4
The lake had always been a favorite place of mine, if I had to choose. Halfway through first year, I had already attached myself to James, and he to Wren, subsequently including Richard and Meredith, who had made herself familiar with him already. Filippa and Alexander were soon to follow, drawn to our slowly forming group as though it were natural. We started by following some of our seniors out to the lake, enchanted by the spectacular view the scenery offered. Eventually, we began coming on our own more and more, especially as our group grew increasingly tight-knit.
It was often we found ourselves lounging about the dock or the coarse sand when the weather was pleasant— sometimes even when the air was getting colder and the nights darker to make room for the encroaching winter.
Such seemed to be our plans for our night, mercifully free of extensive lines to learn or papers to write. I sat cross-legged at the end of the dock, staring at the ripples moving about the top of the darkening water as Richard skipped rocks. I worried that the water would be cold already, and decided to keep my feet out.
Richard was the closest behind me, with Meredith in tow, all but strutting the length of the dock to hand Richard more smooth stones. Alexander and James were conversing at the dock’s beginning while Filippa and Wren were sitting on the beach. I was unsure if they were talking or simply watching the rest of us.
“I bet the weather’s still nice enough for a swim,” Meredith commented.
“I refuse to go skinny-dipping. It’s October, Meredith, have a little shame,” Alexander called in response.
“Well, you won’t have to go that far, then,” Meredith said shamelessly. She turned her attention promptly back to Richard. “What do you say?”
“Are you insisting?” Richard asked. I could practically see that indulgent smirk on his face even though my back was to him. I watched a few birds slowly flit around the trees, either slow or simply too stupid to migrate.
Richard, in as good a mood as any, did end up indulging Meredith’s whims. I swiveled my upper body to watch them deposit their clothes on the beach (contrary to Meredith’s challenging response to Alexander’s comment, Meredith, like Richard, remained in her underwear) before they came back up the dock, Meredith running and diving off close to my right with her boyfriend following close behind.
“Come on, Oliver, join us!” Meredith called as she broke the surface of the water. “It’s not that cold, I promise.”
I glanced back at the others; I didn’t want to be stranded with the couple in the water on my own. To my relief, Filippa was already taking her shirt off, and Alexander, muttering something along the lines of ‘oh, what the hell,’ was making his way to the end of the dock.
“Are you going in?” James called out to me.
“Yeah,” I said, pushing myself up to stand and join him and the others on the beach.
“Who’s going in first?” Filippa asked.
“Whoever it is, decide fast— it’s chilly out here,” I requested, acutely aware of the time of year without my sweater to keep me warm.
When Richard yelled something close to ‘hurry up,’ Alexander took one for the team, running and cannonballing off the end of the dock. Filippa laughed and followed suit, with James going after her, though his splash was far more modest. I went next, opting for a simple jump, with Wren doing the same after me.
“Meredith,” Wren gasped, vindicated, when she emerged from the water, “this is cold!”
“Well, I didn’t say it was warm. This is good for October, isn’t it?”
“The staff will think us mad,” Alexander said, a little incredulously.
“I’m sure they already do,” I replied.
“Though this be madness, yet there is method in ‘t,” Richard chimed in. I didn’t know if he meant that there was a method to our overall hint of hysteria, or merely in this moment alone; seven young, dumb college students swimming in the chilled autumn water during one of the best and simultaneously most strenuous years of our lives. At the time, had we been asked if we wanted to alter our inherent madness, I don’t believe that we would’ve said ‘yes.’
“This is certainly a method for getting sick, at least,” James said, though he was treading water steadily and didn’t seem bothered in the least. I suspected he was only complaining due to whatever mysterious dislike still separated him and Meredith.
“Whatever, at least we’re having fun,” Meredith rolled her eyes and splashed at Richard. He retaliated, of course, never one to back down from anything, be it a game or something dead serious. This prompted Alexander, who was hit by stray drops, to get involved, inciting the rest of us little by little.
Soon, I was fighting to submerge Filippa before she could do the same to me, while Wren was swimming fast away from Alexander with a shine in her eyes. James got involved, splashing at Meredith, who made the mistake of hitting him with a wave that failed to crash into Richard.
Filippa attempted to grab my arm but I twisted away and kicked as quickly as I dared. I brought my legs close to the surface in an attempt to kick up a wall of water in my retreat but Filippa, being as agile as she was, grabbed my ankle. I cried out and submerged myself before she could do the honors. I swam as hard as I could away from her, eventually breaking free from her hold. When I returned to the surface, I crashed into someone before I could wipe the water from my eyes.
I opened them and the water clinging determinedly to my eyelids stung as the person I crashed into shrieked; by the voice, I could tell it was Wren. Alexander apparently couldn’t stop himself in time, and in an instant he was barreling into Wren, and subsequently, me, bringing a surge of water with him. It took me quite a bit of treading frantic kicking to keep my head above the lake, though it didn’t prevent me from having to spit out a mouthful of its salty contents. I laughed rather loudly as James made his way over, alerted by the commotion.
He pried an uproariously amused Alexander from Wren, taking a moment to ensure her wellbeing. He stopped in front of me next, hands skating over my shoulders as he continued treading water, saying, “Oliver, are you alright?”
I was laughing still, less boisterous than Alexander, but enough to suggest that I was alright, or so I thought. I calmed myself down to answer a little breathlessly, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You didn’t go under? No water up your nose?” James continued, with a little smile to accompany his last inquiry.
“Enough of that, he said he’s fine,” Richard said. Perhaps he was bothered by the absence of Meredith’s undivided attention.
“Oh, shut up,” Meredith hit his chest lightly. (I was, and always would be, impressed at the ease in which she could reprimand and talk back to Richard.)
“Truce?” Wren asked tentatively to Alexander.
“Yeah, truce,” he smiled.
Their peace agreement translated to the group at large. We all settled, much to my joy as I was surely destined to lose against Filippa. Without the exertion of constant activity, however, the lake quickly became as chilled as it was when we first jumped in.
Luckily, I wasn’t the only one to notice this change. Meredith had begun to shiver, Wren looked a bit pale (or, paler than usual), and Alexander’s teeth had begun to chatter — that, or he was simply making some sort of noise for whatever reason, as he did sometimes. I felt myself shiver as well, perpetually and also in larger shocks, dragging a sharp, icicle-like sensation down my bare back.
And yet we stayed for a minute or several, now circular in our formation, talking about nothing important. Or rather, nothing in particular. Recently, I had been finding myself appreciating such serene moments more than I ever had before. There was much more worth remembering here than there ever was in Ohio.
I stifled another intense shiver just before James said, “I think it’s about time we wrap this up, yeah?”
“Aw, come on, this is fun!” Alexander said. By then I could tell that his teeth really were chattering.
James must have caught on to this. He countered, “You sound like you’re freezing.”
“I’m n-not!”
“I’m not cold,” Richard interjected. To his credit, he really did seem unaffected by the cold.
“And we’re all so proud of you for it,” Meredith said sardonically, complete with a roll of her eyes.
“Personally, I’m ready to go grab an extra sweater and sit in front of the fire,” James said, turning his attention to me. For a second, I felt as though he were only inviting me along with him. Only for a moment, though. He turned his gaze back to the rest of them, saying, “Feel free to join me.”
“I, for one, think fire sounds like a fantastic idea,” Meredith said, beginning to swim towards the dock. I was quick to follow, never more grateful for James and his brilliant suggestions. I heaved myself off the dock, accepting James’ offered hand to haul myself to my feet with a bit more grace than I could’ve managed on my own. Oddly enough, his hand still felt a bit warm. His body was free of racing goosebumps; I let myself be jealous of this outward presentation of warmth for a moment before I hastily made my way down the dock.
I toweled myself off with my scarf, offering it to the others as they came so that they could do the same. The relief I felt was almost immediate once I was fully clothed again.
James sighed contentedly as he pulled his sweater over his head. “It feels good to be back in warm clothes,” he said.
“Yeah, I bet it does,” Filippa replied with humor in her voice, as though she was in on a joke that I was unaware and also somehow the punchline of.
When we were all decent again, we hurried back to the Castle, going our separate ways to search for real towels, hair dryers, thick sweaters with heavy cotton T-shirts and such like. After our mad dash to get completely dry, we made our way to the library.
James popped his head into our room as I added another layer to my outfit— a black zip-up hoodie, simple and comfortable.
“I’ll be heading to the library; care to join me?” He offered.
“I’d love to,” I said. In all honesty, I hadn’t stopped thinking about the prospect of being curled near a fire in that dim and beautiful library since James had mentioned it at the lake.
James smiled at me in place of a verbal response, and I followed him down the stairs. We ran into Wren on our way, who trailed after us. She made herself comfortable on the floor, as per usual, her back settled on the middle of the couch. I sat on the couch itself, as close to the fire as I could get without sitting entirely on its arm. James, ever the gentleman, got the fire started for us, poking and prodding it until it maintained a sizable warmth. He then took a seat on the other end of the couch. I felt just as grateful as Wren looked.
Filippa came next, followed by Meredith who brought Richard in tow. Alexander came in last, looking more relaxed and hazy than he had before.
“I come bearing gifts,” he announced, languidly pulling a bottle of wine out of somewhere in his coat (how he had the pocket space for that was beyond me).
“Excellent. I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks,” Filippa said.
Upon the realization regarding Alexander’s lack of glasses, Richard critiqued, “Are we meant to drink it from our cupped hands?”
“Let’s just pass the bottle around,” Meredith suggested almost impatiently.
“Good thinking,” Alexander said. When Richard scoffed, he mocked, “What, too proud for a little indirect kiss?” He raised his eyebrows, and I stifled a laugh as Richard rolled his eyes, muttering a sharp ‘whatever’ under his breath.
“It’s not like we haven’t done it before; don’t you suddenly start acting so prudish,” Filippa teased, snatching the bottle from Alexander and quickly popping the cork, taking an almost uncomfortably long sip. (How her throat didn’t burn was shocking, but she was always very good at handling her alcohol.)
“Save the princeliness for James,” I chimed in.
“Yeah, stay in your lane, Caesar,” Meredith added, apparently eager to join in on the taunts.
“Caesar?” Wren questioned. “We haven’t performed that yet. We won’t for another year, if anything.”
“If we do, I’ll eat my tie if he isn’t our Caesar,” Alexander said, eyes on the bottle of wine as Wren passed it up to me after taking a small sip.
I checked out of the conversation, not interested in hearing about Richard’s unchallengeable typecast. If we were to perform Caesar, I was certain I’d end up in whatever secondary role was better suited for me rather than Filippa. My two previous years at Dellecher had taught me just as much about impenetrable archetypes as they did about acting. As much as James would complain about his typical fools-in-love roles, I sometimes find myself thinking that I’d do just about anything to play a character like that.
The wine was bitter, but still sweet enough to be palatable. Inexplicably, it tasted just as its dark, cherry-red hue looked. I drank slowly, savoring the warm burn of it as I swallowed. I was thoroughly warmed now, but I took a second sip anyway, equally enthralled by the taste and the thought of being thawed out from the inside. I glanced to the side and my eyes connected with James’, the gold in his irises set ablaze by the firelight. I offered the bottle to him, and he gladly accepted.
By that point, I had forgotten what it was to be cold at all. The conversation had shifted from hypothetical Caesar roles, and I thus felt more inclined to join back in. It was either due to the wine I consumed over time, or the undoubtedly late hour, but I eventually found it hard to keep my eyes fully open.
Wren excused herself first, and I was quick to follow. The walk back up to my room felt like a dream, and no sooner than my head hitting the pillow was I asleep, only taking the time to remove my sweater. All the while, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be a notably good year. It was the year of comedy, after all; it was bound to be bright.