The Fairest Stars

Chapter Twenty Two: 'My sweet love.'

Nodding, everyone shuffled into positions. Isis headed over to join Callum, who smiled at her in a friendly way. ‘Ready to go?’

She nodded. ‘Definitely.’

‘Oh, you angel,’ Callum began. ’You truly are like a winged messenger of heaven, sailing upon those dreamy white clouds.’

On the other side of the room, Kael was reading through lines with Xavier and Jack, the boy who was playing Benvolio. One of the other boys stood in for Callum, who was otherwise occupied with Isis.

‘Come on, Mercutio,’ Jack began. ‘Let’s go home. It’s a hot day, and those Capulets are about. If we meet them, we’ll end up in a fight: the hot weather always brings it out in us. Come on.’

Kael rolled his eyes. ‘Benvolio, you’re like one of those boring men who, when they go into a tavern, puts your sword aside and says ’Oh, I won’t need that!’’

‘Am I?’ asked Jack, looking bewildered.

Kael nodded. ’Moody, too.’

As they carried on, Isis watched Kael from the corner of her eye. He was really getting into it; seemingly having a great time with the boys he was acting with. Isis wondered just how much he had changed since that first day, when she had thought his only expression was one of disgust.

Suddenly, her reverie was shattered into a thousand pieces by an angry shout. Spinning round, Isis looked over at the source of the sound: Mrs Robson.

‘What do you mean?’ she inquired, hands on hips, glaring angrily at  Rupert, who was looking a little frightened. ‘You can’t drop out of Drama, not at this stage! You’re playing Paris, for heaven’s sake!’

Rupert mumbled something inaudible, handed Mrs Robson the bright yellow dropping out form, and ran from the room.

‘I do not believe this,’ Mrs Robson said, glaring at the piece of paper. ‘We’ll have to do auditions for a new Paris, and there won’t be time, and it’s all going to go awfully wrong, and I’ll-’

Lydia went to her side. ‘Don’t get carried away now, Mrs R,’ she told her, signalling to Lucas to go and get her some tea. ‘We’ll work it out, won’t we?’

Mrs Robson grunted. ‘This is just typical,’ she said grumpily. ‘It’s going to be a failure.’

Isis shot Kael a worried look. Mrs Robson seemed to be getting more and more angry.

He came to her side. ‘I have an idea,’ he said, in a low whisper.

‘Do you?’ Isis looked up at him hopefully.

He nodded. ‘I think so. What if I played Paris?’

‘You?’ Isis frowned. ‘But you’re Mercutio…’

‘Yes,’ he said, with a chuckle. ‘But, I get killed off. I miss out on all of the fun stuff. I could easily put on a wig, do a costume change, easy peasy.’

‘Do any of Paris’s scenes clash with yours?’ Isis asked, looking at her script.

‘Ah.’ Kael hadn’t thought of that. He flipped through his script. ‘Nope. No clashes at all.’ Thank goodness. It would have been rather embarrassing for him. ‘I know all the words, you see,’ he said. ‘I have a good memory for things I typed out.’

Isis smiled. ‘It sounds like the perfect solution.’

‘I’d better run it past Mrs Robson,’ he said, looking over to where Lydia and Lucas were consoling her with a strong cup of tea.