Chapter Forty-Three

      “So, I’ll see you in English class?” he questioned, biting the edge of his lip shyly.

      “I’m not really one to ditch class, so, yeah, I’ll be there,” I assured him.

      “Sorry, that was stupid of me,” he laughed nervously.

      “It’s fine, Eric,” I rolled my eyes playfully, aware that we were being scrutinized by three girls in particular who were by no means on their ways to becoming the next James Bonds with the amount of discreteness they were retaining.

      “Well, I guess that I should get to homeroom now, shouldn’t I?” he questioned, though it wasn’t the type of thing that was meant to be answered.

      “I guess,” I shrugged simply.

      “I’m being annoying right now, aren’t I?” he took a step towards me.

      “Just a little bit,” I pinched my fingers to show the amount of provocation with which he was showering me.

      “Sorry,” he apologized.

      “It’s fine, Eric!” I laughed, not used to his evident timidity.

      “Okay, I’m going to go now,” he proclaimed, but not before capturing my lips with a light peck, a sweet smile forming on both our faces after the small scale of PDA we had exhibited.

      “Bye, Eric,” I bid, as he slowly moved away from the doorframe, allowing me to return back to my alleged “friends” who would’ve gotten kicked out of the CIA in the first twelve minutes of training with their spy skills.

      “Elizabeth whatever the hell your middle name is Turner!” Tara squealed upon my return.

      “What?” I groaned. “Oh, and it’s Abigail.”

      “What is?” Lauren piped, her eyes almost as large as Tara’s.

      “My middle name,” I supplied.

      “Oh, well, you’re seriously the luckiest girl in the world, and you and Eric make the cutest couple I have ever seen!” Tara carried on to practically screech.

      “Um, thanks,” I said, as Lauren nodded along, agreeing completely with Tara’s analysis.

      “You two are going to make the most beautiful babies, like, ever! I’m talking Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt beautiful!” Lauren said, as she and Tara then burst into a fit of giggles that demoted their ages to at least twelve, momentarily. “Don’t you think so, Alice?”

      “Being the levelheaded one in the group, I think that it’s my obligation to say that we’re in high school, and you need to turn it down a few notches,” Alice said, managing to only deflate Tara and Lauren’s fantasies marginally. She too couldn’t hide the grin on her face, though I wasn’t sure if it was from watching my exchange with Eric, or from her own encounter a few minutes prior with another certain boy who possessed popularity—namely, Alex Campbell.

      “Oh, shut up!” Lauren flicked her playfully. “Seriously, Alice? Liz was already nominated for prom queen, she’s dating Eric Wilson, and her life happens to be perfect. Don’t try to crush our realistic dreams!”

      “Wait, what about prom queen?” I said after mentally dissecting her words.

      “You were nominated,” Tara stated.

      “Who the fuck nominated me?” I demanded, wondering who would actually be so cruel as to pull such a heinous “practical” joke, though there was absolutely nothing practical about it. It was downright vindictive.

      “I did!” Lauren said happily. I was almost positive that my eyes were about to shoot laser beams at her with the amount of fury bubbling inside. She had nominated me for fucking prom queen. One of my own “friends.” Unbelievable.

      I was a basketball player—not a prom queen. My mom had pushed me into pageantry once when I was younger, and let’s just say that she learned her lesson within the first hour of my experience. I was forced into a dress fit for a Barbie doll, and then told to walk on a stage. Sufficed to say that it didn’t exactly end well. It resulted in a becoming a life-scarring event at which—even to this day—I still shuddered at the memory. I felt so bad for my three year old self… Anyways, if I wasn’t meant to become the next Miss America, I had a hunch that being a prom queen wasn’t on my bucket list, either—in fact, I knew it most definitely was not.

      “Why?” I said slowly, trying to think of any logical benefits or explanations Lauren had for doing so.

      “Because at the time I knew that you and Eric were eventually going to get together, so why not speed things up?” she shrugged cheerfully. “Besides, you’re really pretty and so is Eric, so it’s only natural that the two of you would be nominated together. Every queen needs her king, right?”

      “Absolutely!” Tara exclaimed, backing her up with confidence.

      “I’m scared to ask, but when do we find out who, uh, won?” the words hesitantly exited my mouth.

      “On Valentines Day,” Alice stated informatively. I nodded, acknowledging her response, when she then took a turn on the romantic side. “It’s kind of sweet, actually. They gather the entire school in the auditorium, and then, after the drama club does some lame skit on love, the principal announces the winners. Red, pink, and white confetti then shoots out, covering the entire student body!” She ended on a dreamy note.

      “You’ll love it, Liz!” Lauren assured me. “The girls you’re running against aren’t even that pretty, and you have the one thing that they don’t!”

      “And what would that be?” I asked tentatively.

      “Eric Wilson, duh!” Tara answered.

      “I don’t ‘have’ Eric,” I said, “he’s a person, not an object that can be possessed.”

      “Basically, you’re going to win unanimously,” Alice sighed, picking up her hefty bag that contained all required materials for school and quite a bit of randomness that was unneeded for anything. “We have English. Let’s go.”

      “Bye!” Tara called.

      “Don’t miss us too much!” Lauren added with a wave.

      I allowed a deep inhale of air to exit through my mouth as I waved back, the sudden early symptoms of a headache attacking my poor brain. It felt as though my head was being used for a twelve year old boy’s drum lesson, my thoughts swiftly jumbled. Following Alice out of the room, my feet dragged me along the way. I knew the route well enough to our English classroom, so stopped taking note of Alice’s being for a few moments, as I was on autopilot. The journey to the room wasn’t even remotely time-consuming, but, in the mornings, with everyone traveling everywhere, the halls were generally flooded with perplexity.

      After a few minutes of accidentally being rammed into underclassmen, Alice and I had reached our given destination: Room 215—Seniors’ Honors English. Over the course of the year, we had done quite a bit in the class. Between reading multiple books and having countless essays assigned, it wasn’t exactly the easiest of classes for me. Somehow, I was blessed with the ability to process information at a relatively fast rate, so was considered “smart.” Thus, I landed myself in practically all AP and Honors classes. English wasn’t my strongest subject (that spot was reserved for sports—yes, they were, indeed, a subject), but I liked it. I spoke the language fluently, and my analytical skills weren’t lacking too much.

      Currently, we were still hung up on the tragedy that was Romeo and Juliet. We had been working with the play for the past few months, and were finally coming to an end. The culmination of the unit was so close that I could almost reach out and touch it. I was familiar with the play before, so it just felt repetitive that we were reading it again. Yes, we were going more in depth and exploring different values in addition to having to write more papers, I just didn’t particularly enjoy it. The whole thing about fate and love at first sight—yeah, not really for me.

      “Liz!” Eric called upon my arrival.

      “Hey,” I greeted, drawn into a hug by his strong arms.

      “How was homeroom?” he questioned after pulling away.

      “Fine.”

      “Awesome,” he smiled, the quintessence of happiness emitting off of him. “So, ready for, uh, English?”

      “Well, I do have everything I need, so, yeah, I guess so…” my eyes began to travel about the room, as the sudden question of why everything became so much more awkward, just because the title of our relationship had evolved. It shouldn’t have been. Everything should’ve been easy, like it was before. The way in which we were currently conversing was jagged and uncomfortable.

      “Cool,” he nodded, as Alice tapped me on the back, indicating that she was going to go find her seat. I watched as she bypassed us, sitting down at her desk.

      We didn’t have designated seats in the class, but ever since the first day of school, Alice had chosen to sit in the center seat of the first row. English was her favorite subject, and she devoured every bit of the lesson like it was crack. Sometimes I sat in the front with her, but the majority of times, I veered towards the middle of the room. If I was in a tired, the glorious back row was also a location not to be overlooked.

      “We should sit down,” Eric stated, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the second row, so that we were sitting directly behind Alice. He was to my right, and she was directly in front of me. Normally, Eric either sat with the two of us, in the back, or with Joey. Joey was currently in a fight with Lauren for some reason I perceived as being dumb, so I was under strict instructions to not communicate with him—given by Lauren, of course.

      Once I had properly situated myself by placing my backpack to the floor and extracting my needed papers and whatnot, I then placed my elbows on the desk, my chin resting in my hands.

      “What do you think you got on your paper?” Eric asked, as I rotated my head slightly, to face him. When it came to grades, Eric didn’t screw around. He took school very seriously, and wasn’t one to half-ass any work. Though our transcripts had already been sent out to colleges, failing was never an option for Eric.

      “B plus, maybe an A,” I drawled out tiredly. Though I didn’t particularly want to, the pressure of normal social cues called for me to ask a follow-up inquiry. “How about you?”

      “I think I did really well,” he beamed proudly.

      “You always do,” I said lightly. To me, grades didn’t particularly matter. My fate had been set for a matter of years, so unless I totally failed, I was fine. Besides, I was smart, so I always did okay no matter what.

      “Hey, guys!” an individual’s voice I recognized to belong to Joey cut in. I glanced up, and, sure enough, the boy with whom Lauren was currently at war stood right before us. Personally, I had absolutely nothing against the guy, but, apparently, whatever he did to Lauren, she was beyond pissed.

      “Dude!” Eric greeted, standing to high-five him.

      “Hey, Liz!” Joey smiled down at me.

      “Hi,” I returned, as Alice’s head instantly shot back to face me, her eyes discharging silent warnings my way. “Apparently, I’m not supposed to talk to you or something because Lauren’s mad at you. Sorry.”

      “Got’cha,” Joey nodded, going over to sit in the seat beside Eric.

      More students came into the room, as the clock ticked, and the bell itched to go off, letting it known to all that classes were to begin. Our teacher, Mr. Hale, had yet to show up, but that wasn’t something out of the ordinary. As teachers went, Mr. Hale was pretty good, though, he didn’t acknowledge punctuality to be existent. He was an older man with graying hair and glasses. Tall, lively, and had so much admiration for Shakespeare that one would’ve thought the two were married. His attitude was chill, but he was one of the hardest graders I had ever encountered over the course of education. He was fair. Overall, I liked him.

      As the bell finally sounded, echoing throughout the entire building, the door burst open, a frazzled-looking Mr. Hale rushing in. His glasses were set slight askew on his face, and his green tie wasn’t adjusted quite right. Saying that he appeared unkempt would be putting it mildly. He wore a navy jacket with a charcoal button down underneath, in addition to gray pants. The colors blurred together, all being rather dark and gloomy. If my mother had walked into the room, seeing him, I was almost positive that she would’ve had a heart attack with the fashion “felony” he was committing.

      “Good morning, class,” Mr. Hale said, calmly strolling over to his desk at the front of the room. He placed a stack of white papers that he had been carrying down, as a chorus of returned greetings reverberated around the room. “I have your papers, but, before I give them back, I want to discuss the topic you wrote about together. Who can give me a brief synopsis of the subject you were required to write about?” At that, Alice’s hand instantly shot up in front of me, as it generally did. “Yes, Alice?”

      “We were supposed to explore a particular reason of why Romeo and Juliet’s relationship was ill-fated from the start—before it even commenced,” she said, her words eloquent and certain.

      “Good. Now, how about you start us off. Alice, what do you think was the problem?” Mr. Hale questioned, scribbling the words “Initial conflicts between Romeo and Juliet’s relationship” on the board behind him.

      “Well, I think it was fate,” Alice said, her reason not yet having any substance to it. “In the prologue, Shakespeare writes the phrase, ‘a pair of star-crossed lovers’—that alone should denote that there’s going to be a problem. Also, their families were in a terrible feud, so Romeo and Juliet’s link with one another failed before it even had a chance to fully form.”

      “So, are you blaming it on fate, or the families?” Mr. Hale prompted, as he formed the words “family” and “fate” on the large expanse of writing space.

      “Both,” Alice determined.

      “Okay,” the man nodded, accepting her response, but, by the particular tone in his voice, it was apparent that he was missing something from the answer he had desired. “Anyone else?” Without thinking, my hand spurted up, and, from the corner of my eye, I could see that Eric too had something to express. “Eric, Liz, both of you—go.”

      A few whispers and murmurs flew around the room as the two of us sheepishly stared at each other. In any high school, rumors had the abilities to fly around the entire student body pretty darn fast. Madison High was so exception. After asking me to be his girlfriend, Eric had changed his relationship status on the infamous social networking website, known as “Facebook”, informing all of our not-so private relationship. Everyone knew that Eric Wilson, the popular boy who didn’t date, was now dating me, Liz Turner, the new girl. It was all left out in the open. I didn’t particularly understand why everyone needed know about a relationship that solely involved the two of us, but Eric insisted that he wanted everyone to know that I was his girlfriend. It wasn’t a debate.

      “You first,” I told Eric.

      “Thanks,” he said quietly before going on. “Well, I think that the reason that their relationship was never going to work was because Romeo was hung up on another girl. He was in love with Rosaline, and then, the second he saw Juliet, he forgot about all about her,” Eric said logically. “It’s a pattern, so there’s no way that their relationship would ever work out with Romeo falling in love with every girl he sees.”

      “Liz, do you have anything to add or dispute about that?” Mr. Hale put the spotlight on me.

      “Yeah,” I began, “I understand and partially agree with what Eric said, but I don’t think that that’s the entire problem.” I paused for a moment, trying to think how to further my argument. “Juliet is young and has never even thought about love—let alone relationships, while Romeo is older and has experience. She’s allowing herself to be persuaded by the first guy she meets, when, in reality, maybe she’s just settling for Romeo because he’s the first real guy she meets.” I noticed Alice’s hand jetting straight up, her mind clearly formulating something that had to be articulated. With a final, inquisitive sentence, I closed up my point, “Romeo’s not that great—he’s depressing, impulsive, and annoying, so why settle?”

      “Yes, Alice?” Mr. Hale called on her before she burst.

      “Firstly, by picking Romeo, she wasn’t entirely settling, but rather choosing the more difficult route. Their families hated each other, so they had to have some level of understanding that what they were doing would be at least somewhat detrimental to the community around,” she jabbered away, her voice filled with passion for the realms of literature that we were discussing. “Also, what about Paris?”

      “Ah, a wonderful point, Alice,” Mr. Hale nodded as he often did. “Does anyone else want to express what they feel about Paris in this whole situation?” His eyes scanned about the raised hands, until they landed upon a certain individual. “Joey, please, enlighten us.”

      Joey let out a cough before he began to speak. “Paris was never given a fair shot by Juliet. He was whom everyone expected her to be with, but when she met Romeo, everything went downhill,” the boy mused. “She couldn’t even think about being with Paris because Romeo was new and different. He wasn’t the likely choice, but Juliet still somehow fell for him. Paris never really had a chance.”

      “Okay, since we’ve managed to veer off, I’m going to cut this short. Please reread the very last scene in the book, silently, as I hand out your papers,” Mr. Hale said, as a commotion was set about in the room, everyone fumbling to find their books. Mine was already deployed on my desk, so I just began to flip through, until I found the needed section. We were so close to finishing the exploration of this play it was unnerving.

      When I finally came across the beginning of the required part, my eyes flitted across the page, absorbing the words, but not taking them in fully. I had read the passage at least three times, if not twelve, so was fully aware of what transpired. People died, and then the characters decided to play the “blame game” on one another. Unlike Alice, I wasn’t the type who had the aptitude or desire to randomly quote lines from Shakespeare’s “masterpieces” for the sole reason that I wasn’t that invested in them. English wasn’t really my thing.

      “Nicely done, Ms. Turner,” Mr. Hale said as a thin stack of stapled papers dropped down before me. I glanced at the top of the document, a sizeable and hasty “A” scrawled across. I internally smiled, proud of what I had achieved. Though I had no longing to do so, I willed myself to go back to skimming the ancient piece of literature written in such a way that it was still understandable, though required thinking to read.

      A tap on my shoulder jolted me from the mind-numbingly effortless labor. I turned to face the direction that the act had come from, staring straight at Eric. He grinned, holding up his assignment to show me that he too had earned the first letter in the English alphabet. I nodded, doing the same, so that he could see that we had matching grades.

      Quickly, a wink shot from one of Eric’s eyelids, as a rapid motion having to do with his hand followed. I processed what had occurred, and then slowly peered down at the area in front of me. On my desk lay a single piece of torn, lined paper, creased so that the content was concealed. I glimpsed back over to Eric, and he jerked his head to the sliver of a chopped down tree, indicating that I should open it. Hesitantly, I unfolded the message, a smile on my face as I read the note that was intended to be sweet, but, being me, I perceived it in a different way: “I’ll be your Romeo, if you’ll be my Juliet.”

      Juliet ended up committing suicide after falling in “love” with a boy she had just met who happened to be quite a few years older than her. Personally, dying didn’t seem all that appealing to me, but I had a hunch that Eric was indicating the “love” and “relationship” aspects of the two’s association with one another—not murdering themselves. In response, I merely smiled at him, and then returned to my “reading.”

      After a few minutes of starring at the word “thou”, I finally decided to skip to my favorite part of the entire play: the very end. Though I wasn’t what one would call a Shakespeare “enthusiast”, there was one particular line that I could recite, for it was my favorite, and was imprinted in my mind from the first time I read it. It summed up the entire story in a single sentence and rhymed. Romeo and Juliet was a calamity. Their relationship was never going to work for so many reasons, therefore creating a sorrowful love story gone wrong.

      I had never been an expert on love or relationships, but I had a hunch that if a love story ended, then it wasn’t a “love” story to begin with. Love wasn’t something temporary. Though I had never truly felt it, and didn’t really have a strong belief about it, I knew that love was eternal. It wasn’t the type of thing that one could switch on and off like a light switch. Love was a lot of things, but, most of all, much like my life, it was complicated. Very, very complicated.

      As I took in the very last two lines of the entire play, a sense of familiarity and contentment filled me.

      “For never was a story of more woe

      Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

      The words possessed so much power. By putting Juliet’s name first, and the possessive preposition of “her”, it was almost a nod to feminism, in a way. It wasn’t the man’s woman, but rather the woman’s man. I liked that. I was a fan of total gender equality, but it was always nice to see that, even in Elizabethan times, women held some level of empowerment.

      Juliet had her Romeo. The two went together like peanut butter and jelly. One name was always accompanied by the other. It was odd, though, considering—as debated in my class—how their relationship never worked. Anyways, Juliet snagged Romeo, and I was fine by that. I wasn’t looking for a wimpy kid with compulsion issues, but, in a sense, was I looking for “my” Romeo, or did I already have him? I had never really considered Eric to be “my Romeo”, but maybe—just maybe—he could be… or maybe not.