Day Ten
My head and my heart were scrambled.
The logical part of me said I should give Damon the footage and get Mark back into the play for the time being. It would be a temporary fix to a more troublesome problem. My emotional side, however, wanted to be the first one to tell Mark what was going on, and, perhaps, give him the footage myself.
Worst of all was it shouldn't have been left up to me in the first place. This was Mark's relationship, anyway. I was majorly overstepping my boundaries no matter my decision.
Regardless, I had to do something, and I was running out of time.
Mark was waiting for me in the Lawn of Misplaced Flowers, his hair messy and eyes darker than usual.
I swallowed hard as I tread through the Lawn to hug him. "Hi, thanks for waiting." His Varsity jacket was soft against my cheek, but harbored a sickly odor.
"You're late." he laughed sarcastically, "Class started five minutes ago."
I blew out a sigh, "Crap. I really need to talk to you."
Mark smiled wide, and I frowned up at him as he let out a small laugh. "Yeah, good luck with that."
Taking a closer look into his brown eyes, both were bloodshot red. I stepped closer, examining the dark circles underneath his eyes and the strange smell of his clothing once more.
"Are you--?"
"High?" he coughed, nodding. "Yup."
Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, I took a deep breath. He couldn't have picked a worse time--there was no way I could tell him now.
"Maybe you should go home, Mark. Gorveau isn't going to be happy seeing you like this."
"I don't give a flying shit what he thinks." Mark scoffed. "I got kicked out of the play, Zoe, there's nothing else he could do to me."
"No, you don't understand." I bit my lip, keeping myself from telling him everything. "Please, go home, or if you don't want to go home, go to my house. Just," I sighed, grabbing his shoulder. "Don't come to class."
He opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a voice behind us.
"Hey," Zak called, jogging out of the Theatre building. He looked between the two of us and cleared his throat, pulling his shoulders back. "Uh, Gorveau's looking for you guys."
I looked back at Mark and whispered, "I'll cover for you, just go." His eyes flickered down to meet mine and, nibbling at his piercing, he nodded.
"Fuck that guy." he said, loud enough so Zak could hear. I wasn't sure if he directed it at him or our teacher, but he was already treading down the Lawn before I could figure it out.
"Coming." I called over to Zak, who eyed Mark wearily as I paced over to him. "Sorry about that, Mark's not feeling well."
He smirked, his crystal eyes following Mark until he disappeared around a building. "Oh, I know that excuse." He winked. "Don't worry, I won't say anything."
"Thank you," I looked up at him, relieved. For someone who'd had a falling out with Mark years ago, Zak still had his back. I hoped--at least for Mark's sake--the boys would someday make amends.
Then again, I didn't have enough information about their falling about to begin with. I hadn't thought about it in a few days, but I still needed to get to the bottom of the story behind Willow. It was just one of many troubling uncertainties swirling around my brain.
As we entered the Theatre building, Gorveau's booming voice echoed over to us, "Ah, if it isn't my favorite little twinkies." Sauntering over, the teacher lowered his round spectacles and frowned. "Where's Galassi?"
Zak's eyes flickered over to me, and we communicated with a single glance. It was time to put our acting hats on.
"He got food poisoning, so he went home." I sighed, "I told him he should come to class, but he really isn't feeling too well."
Gorveau snorted a laugh, crossing his arms over his paisley button down. "Really?"
"Yeah, bad sushi." Zak looked over at me, and I held back a laugh.
"That is unfortunate." Gorveau nodded. "I'm quite allergic to seafood, myself. Gives me huge assquakes."
I burst out into a laugh and hid my face in my arm, disguising it as a cough. Looking over at Zak made it even more difficult to pull myself together, as his face was turning redder by the second containing his laughter.
Composing himself before me, Zak cleared his throat. "Yeah, sir, that's tough."
Gorveau's eyes crinkled at us, sparkling with a hint of humor. "Alas, we haven't got the time to go into the details. We've got work to do."
Zak shot me a thankful look over his shoulder. We really didn't need to hear any more about our teacher's thunder down under.
The cast sat in a large circle as we workshopped our scripts, tweaking lines here and there and reviewing the script as a whole before it was to be finalized. Gorveau paced the outside of the circle, pointing out specific line edits and keeping everyone focused in the short amount of time allotted to our Theatre class period.
At the moment, the play was the only thing I was confident about. It was my constant throughout the past couple weeks. I had my lines almost entirely memorized, a solid understanding of Juliet and her character expression, and my acting skills were sharpening by the moment.
At the end of the day, Juliet and Romeo was keeping me grounded in the midst of chaos.
If I was honest, Zak had played a significant role in maintaining my sanity. He was just as determined as I was to pass this test, and he'd been more than willing to move us through the process as smoothly as possible from the day it began.
I could lean on him, depend on him, laugh with him, and spend long hours with him, but something was holding me back. I couldn't trust him--at least, not entirely. Not yet. I needed to uncover the reasons behind his falling out with Mark before I could allow myself to feel what had been nagging inside my chest every time his piercing eyes smiled at me.
As the group leader, Zak guided the discussion with ease and authority, allowing each of us to input critiques and make suggestions as they arose. Sitting beside him, I was overwhelmed with a sense of pride and awe listening to the way he led the group.
Each time it was my turn to speak, he'd turn his shoulders toward me, the corners of his lips upturning, his eyes attentively following my every movement.
"That's really good." he said, smiling at me over his shoulder. "Did you guys get that? I think Juliet's on to something."
I smiled down at my script, my cheeks warming. As the group wrote down my suggestion to change scene 17, Zak's shoulder brushed against mine, leaning on his extended arm behind me.
He nudged his shoulder against mine, smirking down at me. I bumped my shoulder back against his and smiled up at him, shaking my head.
I looked up at Gorveau, whose eyes glinted at us before flickering away. He was paying attention to us. If he was looking closely enough, maybe he could see how Zak Riley made me feel.
As class wrapped up, I wandered backstage in search of the elusive 6'5'' giant. Before I could hand over the camera, I needed to make sure it would be safe in his baseball mitt sized hands. Following the knocking sound of a hammer, I found him balancing on a ladder on the back of our set, a nail clenched between his teeth.
He raised his eyebrows at me and slid the nail out of his mouth. "What're you doing back here?"
"Hi, Damon." I said, twirling the small Nikon in my hands. "I have something that might interest you."
His dark eyes flickered down to my hands, eyebrows raising. "That was quick."
"I guess I was in the right place at the right time." I shrugged, looking down at the camera. "But before I give this back to you, I'm gonna need some questions answered."
His eyebrow piercing raised as he climbed down the ladder, "Okay." he jumped, dusting off his black jeans, "What do you want to know?"
"What are you gonna do with the footage?"
"I told you." he said, rolling his eyes. "Give it to Gorveau."
"How do I know you're not gonna keep it for yourself?" I crossed my arms, clutching tightly onto the camera. "You'd have every reason to, hating Mark and everything."
"I don't hate him." He grimaced. "And I couldn't keep it even if I wanted to. Sim card is password protected, so I won't see the footage, anyway."
Given my complete lack of knowledge on the subject, I had no choice but to take his words at face value.
"And Gorveau never gave you a reason why he wanted dirt on Gwyn?" I asked, shaking my head.
"My guess is as good as yours." he said, scratching his close-cropped hair. "Like I said before, I'm just following orders."
I bit my lip, part of me wanting to believe him, and the other still full of questions. "Are you sure you'll be able to get Mark back into the play?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." he said. "Trust me."
That was the thing, I didn't know if I could. But, at this point, I didn't really have a choice.
If Damon didn't have access to the footage, he wouldn't have any idea what was on it. So, as long as Gorveau kept it to himself, which I was counting on, Gwyn and Hunter's secret was safe...at least until I told Mark.
Suppressing the guilt and anxiety bubbling inside my chest, I handed over the camera.