Isis was practically dancing along the corridor on the morning of the first performance when she bumped into Harry. She had it all planned out. She and Kael were going to dash home, tell her mum to get into the car, and drive back to school with Freya and Seb (who had miraculously gotten the few hours off of work) in the back seat too. She couldn’t wait.
‘Harry!’ Smiling up at him, she gave him a hug. ‘I seem to be bumping into you a lot, recently.’
‘I haven’t spoken to you in ages though,’ Harry said, steering her out of the door to sit down on a bench with her. ‘How have you been?’
‘Brilliant,’ she replied, with a wide grin. ‘It’s the first night of the play today, you know.’
‘It is?’ Harry smiled. ‘Well, that’s great.’
‘I’ll be so sad when it’s over,’ she said, wistfully. ‘But I’ll still have all the wonderful friends I made.’
‘Mm,’ said Harry.
Isis frowned up at him. ‘Is everything alright?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s just… well.’
‘What?’ Isis asked, feeling a little panicky. He looked… cross? He couldn’t be. He never got cross.
‘What’s with you and Kael?’ he asked. ‘I heard something this morning, someone talking about you two.’
‘Did you?’ Isis hadn’t realised that she and Kael had become hot gossip. She didn’t ever think that she’d been hot gossip before in her entire life. ‘What did the people say?’
‘That you two were dating,’ Harry said. He laughed, a little harshly. ‘I knew it couldn’t be true, but I thought I’d just run it by you. There’s no way you’d date him, is there?’ he asked demandingly.
‘Well, Kael and I are trying out dating,’ Isis admitted. ‘He’s taken me on two dates, and I-’
Harry’s face looked thunderous. ‘What?’
‘Is… is something the matter?’ she asked, nervously. She’d never seen her friend look so furious, so angry.
‘You’re considering dating Kael Willoughby?’
Isis nodded. ‘Yes.’ She frowned. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Do you not know the reputation that arsehole has?’ Harry asked, his tone vicious. ‘He slept with far too many girls to name at boarding school, he got kicked out for dancing topless on a roof with a statue, he-’
‘Yes,’ Isis said, calmly. ‘But he’s changed since then.’
‘You knew about all that, and you still wanted to date him?’ Harry shook his head in disbelief. ‘I… I’m lost for words, Isis.’
‘How do you know all this about his history, anyway?’ Isis asked, feeling a little suspicious. ‘Who told you?’
Harry looked a little sheepish. ‘I asked one of the people who goes to his old boarding school,’ he said.
‘Why?’ Isis asked, utterly bemused.
‘Because I wanted to find out just who you were befriending. I would have told you far earlier if I’d have know you were actually going to date him but… oh Isis.’ Harry looked despairingly at her, shaking his head as if she was dating someone who’d just committed murder, rather than been a player at his last school.
‘He’s not the same person!’ Isis protested.
‘You expect me to just sit here and watch you get hurt by that arsehole?!’ Harry shouted.
Isis stopped short. Harry had never shouted at her before, not in all the years they’d been friends.
‘What are you trying to say?’ she asked, her voice sounding weak and pathetic after his shout.
‘Isis… you know I feel more than friendship for you,’ said Harry, wearily.
Isis’s jaw dropped. ‘What?!’
He snapped his head up to look at her. ‘Is… isn’t it obvious?’
‘No!’ breathed Isis, in utter shock. ‘What about the girl you like?’
He sighed, with a rueful smile. ‘Isis, you’re the girl.’
‘But-’
‘I thought you knew! Maybe I should have been more obvious.’
‘It never crossed my mind.’ Her every thought reeling with surprise, Isis rubbed her forehead. She knew what she had to say but she felt physically sick with the news. How to word it? Oh god, how to word it? Her heart was beating too fast for her to think straight. She'd never wanted this. ‘Oh Harry, you know I love you… just not like that.’
There was a terrifying pause. Isis raised her eyes to his face, and saw that he was deathly pale, his eyes filled with an expression she couldn’t name. It made her feel ill with worry.
‘That won’t ever change?’ he inquired, in a stiff, wooden voice she barely recognised.
Isis shook her head. ‘Sorry, Harry, I-’
‘Don’t worry.’ He briskly got up. Isis noticed he was still pale, and looked strained.
‘Are… are you okay?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Yeah,’ he murmured. ‘Just an headache.’
He didn’t look as if he was quite telling the truth as he said this, and Isis frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
He sighed. ‘Isis, I’m fine,’ he insisted, his tone angry. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘I-’
He walked off, leaving her with tears brimming in her eyes. She’d never forget that expression on his face, those emotions so prevalent in his eyes. She couldn’t believe it.
The shock caused tears to pour out of her eyes, streaking down her face… but she couldn’t cry. She didn’t make a noise, merely sitting there with droplets of salty water dribbling down her cheeks, falling from her chin. Not an attractive sight.
She ran through it all in her mind. With the benefit of hindsight, Harry's words to her she'd dismissed as platonic took on a new weight, and thinking back to her responses, she felt nauseous. Had she given him hope where there had been none to give? Had she accidentally led him on? Her heart hurt.
The tears continued to spill down her face as the sound of him shouting at her echoed in her ears. Her best friend. Oh god, how could she have been so bloody blind.
‘Isis?’ Oh snaps. She recognised that voice immediately. Kael.
She covered her face with her hands. ’I’m fine.’
‘No you’re not!’ Sitting down beside her, pulling her into his arms, Kael held her tightly to his chest, letting her sob into his chest as he stroked her soft, soft hair, wondering what on earth had happened.
Rubbing little circles with his other hand, in a way that was hopefully soothing, Kael kept on holding her for an amount of time he couldn’t measure. All that mattered was that he held her as tight as he could, arms wrapped protectively around her. Eventually, she pulled back, her eyes red rimmed, her cheeks shining with tears.
Rubbing at them with the sleeve of her cardigan, she glanced at the wet patch she’d left on his t-shirt. ‘I’ve made you all wet,’ she said, ruefully.
‘You have,’ Kael said. ‘But it doesn’t matter.’
Isis smiled, weakly.
‘Can you tell me what the matter is?’ he asked gently, taking both of her hands in his.
Isis shook her head. ‘No, I-’ she frowned. ‘I’m not sure if I should.’
‘Well, you did make me wet,’ Kael told her, with a teasing smile to hopefully lighten the mood. ‘I think you owe me one.’
Isis smiled. ‘I thought you said it didn’t matter.’
‘It doesn’t,’ he said. ‘Look, you don’t have to tell me, but…’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She breathed deeply. ‘I’ll tell you.’
Quickly telling him the basics, she watched as his face went from anger at the concept that Harry actually thought he would hurt her, to sympathy at the next bit, then to such gentle, tender care for her that she wanted to burst into tears again, and bury her head in his chest, never emerging ever again.
Hugging her gently, Kael stroked her hair once more, knowing he couldn’t voice how pissed off he was with Harry, knowing soothing Isis was the main priority right now. ‘It’s all going to be fine,’ he murmured, as she put her arms around him, sniffling in a pitiful little way that made his heart wrench. ‘You did the right thing. It’ll all be absolutely fine.’
However, as Isis snuggled back into his arms, she wasn’t sure it would be. She’d probably just ruined her relationship with one of her closest friends, despite the fact that they hadn’t been very close recently. And how could that ever be fine?
*
By the time that the first performance came around, Kael had managed to cheer Isis right up. Being charming and cheery and downright lovely, he had taken her mind away from Harry, and was now driving her mum and siblings back to school.
To Isis’s surprise, her mother had agreed to come with only a slight look of fear. She’d walked very slowly down to the car, clutching Seb’s arm for support, but she was outside, for the first time in ages, and isis could hardly contain her excitement at this huge new step her mother had just taken in completely the right direction. It was fantastic.
Chatting away, Kael was completely charming her mother again, along with Seb, who looked rather impressed by how gallant he was being towards them all. As soon as they’d been dropped off, Isis and Kael raced round to get changed, ready to go onstage. The hall was packed full of people, too many to count, all of them sat excitedly on their plastic chairs, talking. They didn’t have long.
Lydia fussed over Isis as soon as she went into the little room they shared, helping her do up the back of the first dress, carefully applying makeup to her face. It was more than Isis had ever worn in her entire life, but Lydia assured her it had to be very strong and defined to show up under the bright lights.
Looking at her self in the mirror, her hair plaited into an elaborate coronet of plaits for the party scene, her eyes looking enormous thanks to the carefully applied mascara and eyeliner, her skin flawless and freckle free, she barely recognised herself. She kind of missed the freckles.
As she emerged, ready to perform, waiting in the wings for her scene, she watched the others performing. They were doing a brilliant job, the lines all flowing smoothly, the acting brilliant. She couldn’t wait for it to be her turn. And soon, it was.
Stepping out into the bright lights, she turned to Lydia. ‘Who calls?’ she inquired, innocently, and immediately, she tumbled into the role of Juliet with all her heart. She didn’t just feel as if she was playing Juliet, she felt as if she was Juliet, and that was something she couldn’t have learnt, no matter how long she practised for, no matter how much make up she put on, nor how beautiful her outfit was.
Kael was watching from the side, his Mercutio outfit now on, wig off, and gazed at Isis in awe. You wouldn’t have thought that someone as small and fragile as she was could light up the stage the way that she did. Peering into the audience, he noticed people staring in awe at her, eyes wide, as if they’d never seen her before.
Kael frowned. If it wasn’t for this play, those people would probably never have taken a second glance at Isis, would have just passed her by. But then again, neither would he. He probably would have walked past her countless times in the corridors and never have realised that all this talent lay behind those innocent blue eyes, and never would it have even crossed his mind that he could fall in love with her. He would never have known that she was his One. Love was a risky business, he realised. So much could go wrong. But a life without Isis? He couldn’t imagine how terrible that would be.
The scene was over, he was on. Striding onto the stage with all the confidence Mercutio just radiated, he let himself go, and really began to enjoy himself.
The play was passing quickly. Soon, Callum had kissed Isis, and, as Isis came off stage, Kael was waiting to take the taste away immediately, making her grin wider, responding for as long as she could, until Lydia thwacked them both with a prop to break them up, shaking her head in mock despair.
She couldn’t stop it happening after every kiss, however. Kael was none too pleased with Callum kissing his girl, and preferred to take the taste away each time. Callum seemed to find this rather amusing.
All too soon, Isis was faking her own death, lying still in her bed with an empty bottle beside her, her mother and the Nurse lamenting. This was the scene they had added to; or, rather, he had added to. Walking in, as Paris, to see his bride apparently dead, he let out a tortured cry, and sank to his knees beside the low bed, cradling her stiff body in his arms. He rested her head against his chest, her hair streaming over his torso, bending his head over hers, brushing his lips against her forehead, looking at her with an anguished expression.
Glancing up, he heard Lydia actually sobbing, tears slipping down her cheeks, along with the girl playing Juliet’s mother. It seemed that a great deal of the people in the audience were weeping too. Oops. He wasn’t meant to make them cry at Paris. Ah well.
Isis lay perfectly still in his arms, resisting the urge to snuggle into him as his strong grip refused to release her. She could hear people sobbing, and wondered just what Kael was doing. They’d practised this scene before, and Mrs Robson had told them, approvingly, that it was very moving, but they’d never had anyone cry.
When the scene was over, Kael carrying Isis off stage, Lydia attacked them both with hugs, almost knocking them both over. ‘You two!’ she said, nearly squeezing Isis to death. ‘You soppy pair! I thought she’d actually died for a minute judging by the look on your face, Kael!’
Isis looked up at Kael, eyebrows raised. ‘You acted it well, then?’
He looked down, modestly. ‘Not sure about that.’
‘Well?! He was bloody fantastic, Isis! The whole tortured eyes, anguished expression… it was powerful stuff.’
Isis beamed at him. ‘See!’ she told him. ‘You are a good actor.’ Going up onto her tippy toes, she pressed a kiss to the edge of his lips.
‘It was horrible seeing you looking so… dead,’ he said, his voice a little hoarse. Isis’s expression softened, and she gave him a hug.
‘I’m not dead at all, alright? I’m right here,’ she told him, reaching up to ruffle his hair.
He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Indeed you are.’
‘I don’t know why you’re still here,’ Lydia told them. ‘Isis needs to go and get her dagger ready and the blood stained dress!’
‘Ah yes.’ Hitching up her skirts, Isis pressed one last kiss to Kael’s lips, and scampered off to get changed. Kael watched her go with a dreamy expression that made Lydia laugh.
‘I’ve never seen anyone so in love as you two,’ she said, with a chuckle. ‘It’s adorable, really.’
Kael laughed. ‘Mm.’ His cue came, and, eyes wide, he dashed back, running onto the stage just in time. Isis was just too distracting.
All too soon, the play was over. Taking their bows, Kael couldn’t stop the grin all over his face. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, a wonderful feeling of euphoria pounding through his system as he heard the rapturous applause, which was coupled with cheers and shouts, amplified when Isis and Callum took their bows, the last to go. They really had been fantastic: Kael privately thought Isis had entirely stolen the show, but, then again, he was biased.
He hoped his family would feel the same when they saw her on stage. They had agreed to come for the third performance, and had been surprisingly eager to see how he was doing. Kael wondered if it was because they doubted he’d actually been working with the play after all this time.
The applause ended, they filed out off stage. Isis was aglow with happiness, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she hugged each member of the cast, telling them all how wonderful they’d been. Mrs Robson seemed to be going into raptures, telling anyone who would listen that she’d never seen such a fantastic performance in her whole life, and that she was probably going to die of pride. Kael laughed at the thought. He supposed it was a given fact that drama teachers were going to be dramatic. However, when it had all died down, and Isis was back, face wiped of make up, her normal clothes back on, Kael pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly.
‘You were absolutely amazing up there, Is,’ he told her, seriously. ‘I was blown away.’
She flushed. ‘You were incredible too.’
‘I’m very proud,’ he told her, kissing the top of her head. She couldn’t stop smiling, carrying on grinning all the way home. As he dropped her off, along with her parents, she got out, blowing him a kiss goodbye.
‘Isis?’ he called, softly.
She turned, cheeks flushed, flyaway hair escaping from the plait in soft tendrils to frame her face.
‘You’re beautiful.’
Her cheeks went pinker, and she grinned. ‘So are you.’ She came back, kissed him through the wound down car window, and stood back, still smiling. Waving as he turned the corner, she turned round to go back to the flat, actually, for the first time ever, feeling beautiful. Kael made her feel beautiful, as cheesy and clichéd as it sounded. And she loved it.