The Facility | ✔️

Chapter Eight

My drama teacher droned on, "Now, the essence of drama all relates back to motive. What are the characters' intentions? What does the director want to achieve? And most of the time it relates to one thing. Miss Wednesday, what might that be?"

"Love, ma'am," she said in a floating voice.

Everyone but me seemed to be intrigued with this. I wrinkled my nose, "Love? Seriously, why does everything relate to love?"

My drama teacher suddenly sent me a beam, "Exactly! Thank you, Miss Roberts. That is your assignment for the time you're here."

"Miss, I don't understand the project," a lazy voice drawled from the front of the class. How did Shawn ever become vice-president of DAB? 

"That would be because I haven't explained it yet, Mr Roberts," she sighed loudly. "The project is to create a class production in the month you are here to perform on the last night. Half the class will be on backstage roles and the other half will be performing."

"And how does this have anything to do with my question?" I asked, as politely as I could. 

The teacher sighed, "You'll be performing Romeo and Juliet. And through this, I want you all to examine how the characters motives are all based on the idea of love."

I slumped onto my desk. Of course... she just has to choose the most cliche love story of all time. I hadn't meant why are everyone's lives based on love, but actually, why does everything that swamps me relate back to love. Even when I'm sleeping!

"Please raise your hand if you want a backstage role."

I glanced to Em to see she already had her hand stuck up, "Costumes! Please!"

"Okay, Miss Wednesday," the drama teacher rolled her eyes. A few others shouted out their requests and then she continued, "And those looking for either Romeo or Juliet?"

I glanced to Shawn first to make sure he didn't want Romeo. But he had always told me he preferred Mercutio. Then I put up my hand for Juliet, "I'd like Juliet, Miss."

Unfortunately, at the same time that I'd said that the husky voice that I'd memorised said, "I'd like Romeo, Miss."

We spun to glare at each other. Before I could refute my decision the teacher - I think her name was Miss Holt or something - clapped her hands together, "Perfect! I hope you two can get to memorise your lines within a week."

The bell rang and I leaped out of my chair, satchel already packed. I made sure to hit the back of Par- Christian's head on the way out.

***

"You need to go back and say no," Christian said later that night. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, "You're joking right? I volunteered first."

"No, I did." 

"Nuh-huh."

"Yuh-huh," he mocked, "I'm not doing Romeo and Juliet with you."

"Hey! My dreams are just as bad as yours!" I shouted at him, "You aren't the only one that found meeting each other horrible! I am so lost and confused right now and I have no idea what's wrong with me," I couldn't see. Tears were blurring my vision. I cried out, "I would go back to being fourteen with the anorexia and sleep apnea just so I didn't have to suffer through this stupid shit! I hate having to wake up every morning knowing that the guy I just dreamt about making out with just had the same exact dream across the hall from me! I'm lost, Park! Park... I'm lost in my own life..."

I fell to the side and leaned against the doorframe. Christian's hand was hesitant on my shoulder, "H-hey... uh, please don't cry..."

I let out a small laugh in the midst of my sobs. So he doesn't like girls that cry, huh?