“Ophelia,” I said, rolling the name over my tongue like a sweet candy, and racked my brain for what I knew of Hamlet. Which wasn’t much. “Doesn’t she go crazy and kill herself?”
“That’s the one. Big, juicy role. Iconic. My queen, Kate Winslet, played her. And Julia Stiles. Helena Bonham-Carter…”
“Yeah?” I asked, my hopes rising, then crashing again. “If it’s an important role, they’re not going to trust it to a noob like me.”
Angie blew a small raspberry. “The director, Ford, casts talent, not experience. Why else do you think Oedipus was full of grocers and hairdressers instead of grad students? You need a killer monologue to audition with.” She dramatically jabbed her finger down the hallway. “Get thee to the library.”
“Um, what?” I laughed, grateful for this quirky, kindhearted gal for pushing herself into my life.
“Get thee to a library?” Angie said. “Get it? Like, the ‘get thee to a nunnery’? From Hamlet?”
“Oh. Right.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, then began ticking off items on her fingers. “You haven’t acted before. You don’t know the play. You don’t think you’re going to get a part. And you’re not trying to hang around Isaac Pearce every night for the next two months.” She threw up both hands. “Girl, what the heck are you auditioning for?”
I shrugged, not looking at her. “I have to do something.”
“It’s getting a little late in the college app game.”
“It’s not that…”
“Then what is it?” Angie’s soft face morphed into concern. She put her hand on my arm. “Hey. I’m here.”
The simple declaration was almost enough to yank the truth right out of me. Tears threatened, but before I could speak, a huge guy with a blond buzz cut, wearing a navy blue George Mason windbreaker, walked by with some of his buddies. He stopped when he saw me and looked me up and down with pale blue eyes.
“Hey there, Princess. You’re the new girl, right? I been seeing you around. And I like what I see.”
A normal girl would’ve rolled her eyes at the cheesy line. Or told him to fuck off. Or maybe been flattered, if this guy’s brand of meathead was her type. But my chest tightened and the air seemed thinner, harder to take in with his hulking presence so close to me.
Angie leaned in to me. “Willow, meet Ted Bowers. ‘Roided out captain of the wrestling team.”
Ted’s face scrunched with anger. “Shut up, Angie. Dork.” He turned back to me, his expression smoothing out into an overly friendly smile. He took a step closer. “We should hang out sometime. I’ll show you around.”
I felt my head nod while every particle of me recoiled from his obvious intentions. I’d gone mute, hardly able to draw a breath. Begging whatever gods would listen to not let me have a full-blown panic attack right in the middle of the hallway.
“Are you scared of me, Princess?” Ted said, looking back to laugh with his buddies, then back to me. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”
My throat started to close and lights danced in front of my eyes. Distantly, I heard Angie tell Ted to shut up, and then Isaac Pearce was there.
He pushed between Ted and me like a shield, towering over the wrestler. His smoke-and-soap scent was like smelling salts, bringing me back around. I pulled in a deep breath and the lightheadedness faded a little.
“Oh look, it’s Oedipus,” Ted said. “What’s up, motherfucker? Get it? A mother…fucker?”
“Great joke, Ted,” Angie said. “Very original.”
He ignored her, kept his eyes locked on Isaac. “Back off the little princess, Pearce. She’s too young for you.”
Isaac cocked his head to the side. Ted had a good thirty pounds on him but I was suddenly afraid for the dickhead. Danger radiated off of Isaac, making the hairs on my arm stand on end.
“Well?” Ted said. “You got something to say, motherfucker?” He was on a roll now, nudged one of his buddies who didn’t look nearly as confident. “Hey, how come you’re still in high school? Aren’t you, like, thirty now? Or are you on a prison work release?”
Standing this close to Isaac, I could feel the t
ension humming off of him. The panther ready to pounce. Angie’s hand dug into my arm and the small crowd that had gathered held their breath. Watching.
Ted wasn’t done. His laugh turned dark and ugly. “Haven’t seen your old man in a while, Pearce. Where did you bury the body? Next to your mother?”
RIP Ted Bowers, I thought.