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Chapter Sixteen

Zayne and I get through the whole script in two days.

I go to his house after school on Monday and Tuesday, and we run lines like maniacs, scene after scene until we’ve run out of pages. Mimi’s snacks provide us with the fuel we need to get through it, and Lenny provides us with brain breaks, interrupting us now and then to explain why some types of mushrooms are poisonous and others aren’t.

I text Carlton back both days when he offers to run lines with me himself, telling him I have too much homework to catch up on, and Zayne doesn’t comment.

When he helps me memorize our last scenes, a wave of triumph hits me so strong, I almost collapse.

We’re done.

It feels so good.

When I rehearse at school on Wednesday, it’s the first time I’m acting completely off book, like everyone else.

This time, I’m one of them.

“Oh, Nelly, ” I wail in character as Cathy. I’m lying on three chairs in the rehearsal room set up to temporarily serve as a bed, and Meredith is perched above me with pretend concern etched on her face. She’s probably shooting mental daggers at me, but no hint of her disdain is visible, a clear display of her talent. “I wish I were out of doors,” I continue. “I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free.” I fan myself, arching my back as I pretend to be feverish in bed, and rest the back of my hand on my forehead.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mr. Saltzman raise his eyebrows and nod from his chair in the center of the classroom. He looks…impressed.

It happens during my scene with Zayne, Carlton, and Rue. Rue, playing Isabella, gestures to Zayne and says. “Look who I found wandering in the hall.” My character is married to Carlton’s here, but when I see Heathcliff, I’m supposed to be filled with a terrible, aching longing. And that’s exactly what I try to portray. I stare at Zayne with the same intensity described in the script, hoping my expression fits the scene. Rue says her next line to Carlton. “ Has Mr. Heathcliff not changed beyond all recognition? ”

I can’t tell if Carlton’s stony expression is acting or not. “Indeed.”

I let my gaze progress from Zayne’s black sneakers all the way up to his face. A heat travels through my body, but I try to focus. “Heathcliff,” I say in the tortured way I’d imagine Cathy to speak. “It’s you.”

After the scene, Mr. Saltzman gives us his notes. “Rue, try not to sound quite so eager. I know Isabella is trying to catch Heathcliff’s eye, but she must still hold some regard for her brother’s negative opinion of the guy. Carlton,” he pauses, pressing his lips together in concentration. “Mostly good, but a little dry. Try to give it a bit more oomf , if you know what I mean. Remember, this is a show. And Silverman, you were perfect, as usual.”

Carlton jerks out of his chair. “I need some air.” His steps are loud on the floor as he exits the classroom.

Mr. Saltzman frowns. “Is he alright?” He clears his throat. “Hm. Anywho, Dot. I must say, you’re doing amazing. I’ve actually been really blown away by your scenes today, specifically. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”

I feel a swell of pride. Part of me has been worried I’d let Mr. Saltzman down if my acting didn’t prove good enough, that he’d regret taking a chance on me when he chose me to play Cathy.

But that’s clearly not the case. Which means my hard work is paying off.

A week later, we get our costumes and Mr. Saltzman tells us we’re going to do a dress rehearsal and tech test.

We get to act out the entire play in costume. With mics. On the stage. In the school theater.

I’ve never been so excited about anything in my life.

“Places, everyone,” he calls, ushering the first group of actors onto the stage. Zayne is among them, and I find myself watching from the audience instead of going over my lines backstage for my first scene. Zayne’s not in costume or anything, but it’s still fun to watch him get into character.

“Hey.” Carlton’s voice startles me from my reverie.

I smile faintly. “Hey.” It seems like rehearsal has taken precedence over everything else this past week. I can’t even remember our last real conversation.

He tilts his head. “Why aren’t you backstage?”

“Um.” I shift in my seat. What am I supposed to say? I’m enjoying watching Zayne play Heathcliff? “I was just about to go, actually.”

“Cool.” His smile is tight. “Let’s go, then.” He holds out his hand to help me up, and I take it, glancing once more at the stage where Zayne is running his scene with a boy named Owen, who’s playing Lockwood.

As soon as we’re backstage, some of the tension in Carlton’s shoulders eases. “I just can’t stand being around that guy.”

I bite my lip. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him.” I intend for the words to sound reluctant, but my voice sounds much more confident than I want it to. And even a little…dreamy.

Carlton whirls around. His gaze is intense, like I’m a math equation he just can’t seem to figure out. “You’re kidding, right?”

When I don’t say anything, his forehead scrunches together, making the skin buckle into several thin lines. I just shrug, because I’m afraid anything else I say will only make things worse.

“Dot.” Carlton shuts his eyes, like he’s trying to calm down. “He’s the reason I didn’t get the role I practiced for all summer. It’s because of him I might not even get into Underwood now.”

No, I want to say. It’s because of you. But instead of finally confessing to Carlton that I know the truth, I just purse my lips. Now isn’t the time to get into it. I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out when the right time actually is, but I can’t seem to commit. Confronting Carlton and telling him I know he’s been lying isn’t something I’m looking forward to. I can’t imagine he’ll handle it well, and who knows how that will affect my friendship with Mabel and Rue?

Meredith approaches us from the other side of the room. She narrows her eyes at me and then at Carlton. “What is going on with you two?”

I cross my arms. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like all you two ever do is bicker lately,” she says. “It’s getting old.”

“We do not bicker,” Carlton insists.

Meredith rolls her eyes. “Yes, you do. You’re always mad about something, C. And Dot, you’re always getting under everyone’s skin.”

“What?” What is she talking about?

She rolls her eyes as she sighs, then holds up a hand. “Never mind.” She struts away and sits back down at a small round table shoved into the corner of our backstage room, which is called the green room, even though there’s nothing green about it.

I frown at Carlton. “Do I really do that? Get under everyone’s skin?”

“I mean, yeah.” Carlton shifts on his feet. “It sometimes seems that way.”

An uncomfortable sensation washes over me. “How?”

“Well, first there was you getting the part of Catherine—which Meredith wanted really bad—and then doing nothing but constantly complain about it at first. And then there’s all the time you’ve been spending with Zayne, who you know I can’t stand.”

“So, two things then.” I raise my eyebrows. “You literally only have two examples. Neither of which were my fault, I might add.”

Carlton exhales. “Whatever.”

Esme, the student stage manager, appears in the doorway of the green room. “Dot, you’re up.”

I give Carlton an exasperated look before I follow Esme. My mind is in a whirl. It seems like nothing I do is right, lately. I just can’t win.

I’m ushered onto the stage, and I glance up to see none other than Zayne. His eyes meet mine, and his brows inch together as if he can sense my internal stress. But I ignore him, mentally running through our lines. It’s a good thing we’ve been practicing so much. For once, I feel comfortable with my role. Confident. There’s still the tiny voice in the back of my mind that whispers, what if you mess up all your lines?

But of course that doesn’t happen. Thanks to Zayne, the scene flows smoothly as if we’re in his bedroom with our books right in front of us. Part of it, I know I owe to his superb acting ability, the way he makes me feel as if we really are these characters and we’ve been transported right into the pages of the story. Not an ounce of the real Zayne peeks through. When we’re acting, he is Heathcliff.

I know deep down he carries the brunt of our scenes on his shoulders. But the rest, I realize, is all me. I can hear it in my voice with each line. I can see it on Mr. Saltzman’s face with each in-character facial expression I make. Zayne was right about me not being as bad as I think.

And it feels really good. Better than good, actually. It’s a rush—one that will be really hard to let go of.

When Zayne and I have our first romantic scene together, I have to admit, I’m caught off guard. Rehearsing it in his bedroom or the classroom is one thing. But the way he looks at me while we’re acting it out in front of Mr. Saltzman, the way his eyes tenderly caress my face as if I’m made of delicately spun silver startles me. It seems so real, I almost forget we’re acting.

And then it’s time for us to kiss. The part we’ve skipped every time before now.

I step toward Zayne, my heart thundering in my ears. It’s not real, I remind myself. It’s only a play. You’re acting for crying out loud. “You returned on my wedding day,” I whisper into my mic, “only to punish me.”

His fingers clasp around my waist, gripping me more firmly than I’m prepared for. And then our lips meet.

And that’s it.

Or at least, that’s all it’s supposed to be.

But when we pull apart, Zayne’s eyes collide with mine. My stomach dances, the feeling propelling me forward and the next thing I know, we’re both kissing again. He reaches for my face, his other arm still around my waist. The taste of his mouth makes my brain feel foggy, but I can’t break away. Our tongues touch and then find themselves entangled like wild vines. The only reason my knees don’t buckle is because Zayne’s hand is still on my waist, holding me up. My teeth graze his bottom lip, my heart pounding in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. The words, only acting, only acting, ring through my subconscious, strongly at first, but then begin to dwindle into something less substantial.

This kiss seems to expand into a stretch of time that can’t be counted or determined. When our faces finally break apart and Zayne steps away, it feels like a bandage being ripped off a fresh wound. I stare at the ground. What just happened?

He doesn’t break character, stating his next lines as if we didn’t just make out onstage, when we could have just gotten away with a simple kiss. Eyes still round and wide, I glance at Mr. Saltzman. His usually pink cheeks look extra rosy as he watches us with narrowed eyes and low brows. Just past him, Rue is sitting in the audience with her mouth wide open. And Carlton is in the audience, too.

Glaring at me as if I just committed murder.

Fantastic. But instead of running offstage and explaining myself to him like I want to, I remain planted in front of Zayne. I try to stay in character and act out the rest of the scene with him.

I just hope that the guilt isn’t written on my face for Zayne, Carlton, Mr. Saltzman, and everyone else who’s watching to see.

When the scene cuts, Mr. Saltzman claps his hands together. “Excellent job, you two.” He lowers his glasses to look at me. “Dot, you’re really letting your skills shine through lately. I’m impressed.”

“Th-thanks.” I avoid looking at Carlton and try my best to keep my voice even. Like I meant to kiss Zayne that way. Like it didn’t catch me completely off guard. Like I’m not still lost in the way it made me feel, not still reeling from it.

“Carlton,” says Mr. Saltzman. “Let’s have you up here now in the classic scene with all three of you. This one is my personal favorite and one I know the audience will be looking forward to as fans of the novel.”

Carlton drags his feet as if they weigh a ton as he walks onto the stage. This is one of the scenes the three of us practiced at the garden. Zayne and I rehearsed it plenty of times on our own, too, with Zayne reading Carlton’s lines in addition to his own.

Carlton takes his place on the stage. His eyes skip over me as he turns to face me. I’m not sure if I prefer this, or his previous glaring, to be honest.

When he finally looks at me, the intensity in his gaze makes me shrink back. “This is insufferable!” The words are a snarl. I know his character is supposed to be angry, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s using his character’s bad mood as an excuse to let his own anger show, rather than putting a commendable effort into our rehearsal.

Zayne doesn’t react or break character. Crossing his arms, he says, “That, I echo.” I wonder if he notices the change in Carlton, or cares.

Carlton turns to Zayne and says his next line. “Your presence is a moral poison that would contaminate the most virtuous. For that cause and to prevent worse consequences, I shall deny you hereafter admission into this house!” He emphasizes each word.

It’s his best performance yet.

So I, too, stay in character. And when the scene is over, Zayne, Carlton, and I exit the stage to the green room.

Carlton makes a beeline for his table, opening his backpack to get a water bottle. “I do not want to talk to you, Dot.”

I search for words. Anything to calm him down. Anything to explain my behavior. “It was only acting, Carlton. You know that.” But the feeble words, insistent as they are, recycled and repeated from my subconscious, aren’t even convincing me.

He starts to say something, but then yelps, pulling his hand out of his bag. He peers inside and yells, “There’s a snake in my backpack! I just touched it.”

“What?”

“A snake, Dot! Look .” He opens his bag and holds it in front of my face. Sure enough, a tan snake with dark brown blotches along its back is coiled atop his sweatshirt.

“That looks like a gopher snake,” says Zayne from behind me. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless.”

Carlton points at him. “You put it there, didn’t you? I know you did!”

There’s a grin on Zayne’s lips. “Where would I even get a snake? Grow up, Carlton.”

“This is just like the stunts you used to pull when we were kids!” Carlton looks at me for help, like me announcing that I believe him is all the proof he needs.

“I’m terrified of snakes,” Zayne states. “Why would I go near one just to put it in your backpack?”

I suppress a laugh, remembering Zayne telling me about snakes being his biggest fear when we were texting. “It’s true. Zayne is afraid of snakes. And geese.” I fight back a grin as I remember our time in the garden before Carlton arrived. I grin at Zayne and he smiles back, the simple lifting of his lips stirring something in me I can’t describe.

“Seriously?” Carlton booms. “You’re defending him?” He shakes his head, mouth agape. “And stop smiling at him! What’s wrong with you?”

“Carlton.” I reach to touch his hand, but he yanks it away like I’m holding a hot poker.

“Don’t touch me. And don’t talk to me.” Grabbing his backpack, snake and all, he storms out of the break room. I know I should probably follow him, but I can’t seem to find it in me. I’m just so tired of defending myself to him. Of having to explain myself. I know I’ll probably kick myself later for not caring more right now, but for the time being, it feels good to just brush it off.

“You think he’ll take it to a pet store?” Zayne mutters.

I turn to face him. “What?”

“The snake. Do you think Carlton will take it to a pet store? Or maybe just set it loose somewhere?”

“This isn’t funny, Zayne.”

“I disagree.” He displays a wide grin. “I think it’s pretty hilarious, in fact.”

“Well that just makes you immature. And how did you even know what kind of snake it was?” I can’t deny that his knowledge makes me a little suspicious.

“Lenny. He’s obsessed with animals, remember? After a while, hearing about all those different species rubs off on you.” He smirks. “But I’m not gonna lie…it’s always fun watching Carlton get mad.”

I cross my arms. “And like I mentioned before, he wouldn’t be so mad if you hadn’t kissed me like that.”

“Well, like you said, it was only acting. So, there’s no reason for him to react.”

“Acting.” My chest feels like it’s gripped in a tight fist. I blink a few times. “Right. I—I’ll be right back.”

Zayne’s smugness dissipates. “Wait, Dot.”

“I’m just taking a little walk before my next scene.” I don’t hide my irritation as I gather my things and leave.

I’m vaguely aware of Mabel and Meredith watching me, and when I exit the theater building, Meredith follows me. I don’t speak to her, and she remains silent, too, waiting until we’re out of earshot from anyone else. After a few more minutes, she blurts, “Do you have feelings for Zayne?”

It’s already enough of a shock that she’s speaking to me after all this time, so her question is enough to stop me in my tracks. “What?”

“Zayne Silverman,” she repeats. “Do you have feelings for him?”

It takes me a moment longer than it should for the question to register. I can’t remember a time when Meredith has ever spoken more than three sentences to me, let alone asked me such a direct question. “I, uh—” I stammer, not even sure why I’m stammering. But then I remember the way I used to hate him. The way even the mention of his name would leave me with a sense of indignation for Carlton. How I felt like Zayne was the reason for everything that was going wrong between me and him. But I can’t deny that I don’t think that anymore. “Why are you asking me that?”

She narrows her green eyes at me. “I saw the way you kissed him on stage. You’ve never kissed Carlton like that.”

My face burns. “How would you even know?”

“I can tell.”

“Sure, Meredith. Whatever you say.” I turn to leave, but her voice stops me.

“It’s okay if you like Zayne,” she calls. “I won’t tell Carlton.” There’s a smile in her voice that leaves me feeling sick.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Surprise, and maybe even a little disappointment crosses Meredith’s face. Disappointment at what, I’m not sure. And I don’t care to find out. I walk away at a quicker pace this time. I don’t need her following me. Taunting me. Prodding with personal questions. They’re completely unwarranted.

Are they, though? The thought is unwelcome, but it enters my mind nonetheless. Carlton is her friend. It’s only natural that she’d want to look out for him and make sure the girl he likes isn’t leading him on. A few months ago, I wouldn’t hear Zayne talk even remotely badly about Carlton, and now here I am defending him without a second thought.