The Juliet Club (9 page)

Giacomo cast his eyes to the ceiling, but Lucy seemed enthralled, Silvia attentive, and Benno and Tom cautiously interested. Kate folded her arms, withholding judgment until she had heard more.

The professor waved her hand slowly through the air, as if she could make the scene appear before their eyes. “They will walk out into the perfumed night and hear Romeo wooing Juliet on the balcony!” she said in a hypnotic tone. “They will enter the ballroom and see an elegant Elizabethan dance! They will pause beside a flower bed and hear the greatest poetry the world has ever known being recited! It will be as if they have stepped into Romeo and Juliet's world! It will be . . . magnificent!”

“Magnificent,” Lucy repeated, sighing.

Then Tom said, “But I can't act.” He was definite on this point. “Not if there's an audience. Not even if there's
not
an audience.” He wondered if he had made his position quite clear. “Not at all,” he finished firmly.

It was as if he had awakened Professoressa Marchese from a dream. “Not to worry, Tom,” she said briskly. “I have engaged the services of a brilliant theater director, a Signor Renkin, to help you rehearse. And your parts will not be long or difficult. My plan is to focus on a few key scenes from the play and have each one performed several times during the evening's festivities, so each Shakespeare Scholar has a chance to shine.”

Tom did not look convinced, but Professoressa Marchese sailed on. “Signor Renkin also will teach you an Elizabethan dance to perform—”

“We're going to
dance
?” Benno asked, horrified. “In
public
?”

“I will take you all to a costume rental shop next week to pick out what you will wear on the gala evening—”

Lucy actually clapped her hands at this news. Even Silvia looked interested before she caught herself and sank back down into her chair with a scowl.

“I'm not wearing tights,” Tom said, mutinous.

Professoressa Marchese ignored this. “And finally, Signor Renkin has a great deal of experience in stage sword fighting—”

Tom and Benno perked up.

“We get to fight?” Tom asked. “What kind of swords?”

“Where will we practice? When can we start?” Benno was trying not to get too carried away, but he was already imagining the dashing figure he would cut, bounding across a stage, up and down a staircase, even—why not?—swinging on a rope from a balcony, wildly waving his rapier, and then killing all his dastardly foes.

“And we all get to fight?” Silvia was intent. “Not just the boys?”

Professoressa Marchese laughed. “Of course, Silvia, I would walk in fear if I tried to keep a sword from your hand.”

Silvia gave a thin, satisfied smile at that.

“But all that will wait until the morrow! For now . . .” Professoressa Marchese opened the box that Benno had brought in, reached inside, and held up a letter. “I have the first letter for you to answer as official members of the Juliet Club.”

Dear Juliet,

I am totally in love with a boy named James. I'm only fifteen, and my parents won't even let me date for another year, so James and I have been meeting in secret. My problem is that it's really making me nervous because I'm afraid we'll get caught. Plus, James used to date this girl Alice and even though he doesn't even like her anymore, he doesn't want to break up with her because he says she's kind of a hysterical personality and he's afraid of what she might do. So he still has to go out with her sometimes, just to keep her stable. Anyway, I'm asking for your advice because you had a very similar situation with Romeo (except for the part about Alice), so you know how it feels! Please write back as soon as you can.

Jill B.

Professoressa Marchese finished reading the letter aloud, then put the paper down and looked around the table. “A most thought-provoking letter, don't you agree? Kate, we will start with you. What advice would you give to Jill?”

“She should forget James,” Kate said promptly. “Don't date until she's twenty-one, and then only under strict supervision. And quit writing to fictional characters for advice.”

Silvia raised her hand. “Aren't we supposed to answer the way Juliet would?” she asked sweetly. “Excuse me for saying so, but that response doesn't sound very romantic.”

“Is our advice supposed to be romantic, or useful?” Kate asked.

“Both, if possible,” Professoressa Marchese replied.

“Well, I feel real sorry for her,” Lucy said. “And I'm not sure about that James. He sounds kind of sneaky.”

Benno couldn't let that go. “He has only been accused of liking two girls at the same time,” he offered humbly, and then wished he hadn't.

“Only?
Only
accused of—!” Lucy couldn't even finish her sentence, she was so astounded by this reaction.

Silvia narrowed her eyes dangerously. “If she loves this James, he is worth fighting for!”

“You're not saying she should hurt Alice,” Lucy asked, impressed by her vindictive tone.

“Not Alice, no,” Silvia conceded. After a moment, she added darkly, “But as for this James—”

“Silvia doesn't believe love is real unless someone has to go to hospital for at least five stitches,” Giacomo said. “‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.'”

Silvia managed to both scowl and look gratified at this assessment of her character. She shoved his chair with her dangling foot and said, “Pah! Five stitches is calf love. True passion requires at least ten.” The mere thought seemed to put her in a better humor. She added, “
And
a lasting scar.”

Lucy gazed at them with round eyes. “I really don't think that violence is ever the answer,” she said solemnly.

Silvia bit back a sarcastic remark—why did Americans always take everything so
seriously
?—and asked, “And so what would you suggest?”

“Well, I think she should just sit down with James and have a heart-to-heart talk with him,” Lucy said. “Tell him that he has to choose. It's either her or Alice.”

“Why should
he
get to choose?” Silvia snapped.

“And why should she trust what he says?” Kate added. “He's already shown that he has a duplicitous nature.”

“We don't know that,” Giacomo protested.

“Of course we do.” Kate waved the letter in the air. “The evidence is right here.”

“Based on what line?” Giacomo took the letter from her and made a great show of frowning at it in puzzlement. “Based on what example?”

Kate crossed her arms and lifted her chin a defiant half-inch, a sure sign to those who knew her that she was about to defend her position with the enthusiasm of a centurion repulsing the barbarians at the gates.

“Not all evidence needs to be explicitly stated,” she said. “Especially given that the letter writer, in this case, sounds, well . . . shall we say, less than self-aware. Under the circumstances, I think we should be allowed to consider subtext, to examine what is implied as well as what is declared.”

“We should also consider the possibility of an unreliable narrator,” Giacomo pointed out as his mother gave a nod of surprised approval. “After all, we've only heard the girl's side of the story.”

“Are you saying she's lying?” Silvia asked heatedly.

“Not necessarily,” he said. “But perhaps she has misread the situation? Perhaps she's reading more into his declarations of love than are really there? Perhaps her interpretation is flawed?”

There was a shocked silence. “Well?” Professoressa Marchese asked smoothly. “What does everyone think of that theory?”

Kate, Silvia, and Lucy looked at one another, united in disgust.

“He said he loved her!” Lucy cried. “There's only one way to interpret that!”

“I agree,” Silvia said. “And if he has told her that he loves her and is still seeing this other girl—”

“Maybe more than one,” Lucy reminded her.

“
Girls,
yes,” Silvia amended, with a nod of thanks. “Then he clearly has an evil heart. Jill should exact retribution!”

Giacomo opened his mouth as if to speak, but Benno got there first.

“No, I think Giacamo is right,” Benno said. “This girl is clearly crazy.”

There was a moment of outraged silence, broken finally by Kate.

“Not really,” she said to Benno. “You don't really think that?”

“There are many crazy girls in the world,” he said defensively. “Believe me.”

“Of course, you are an expert on that subject,” Silvia murmured.

“I have had some distasteful experiences,” Benno said with dignity, “which I'd rather not discuss.”

“I'm merely saying it's one possibility,” Giacomo said to Kate, ignoring Benno.

Tom was examining the letter intently. “Don't crazy people usually have really bad penmanship, all scrawly and everything? Her handwriting looks pretty neat.” He looked more closely. “She does dot her
I
s with hearts, though.”

“She is not crazy,” Lucy said. “For heaven's sake.”

“Why is it girls are always right and guys are always wrong?” Tom asked the air.

“No one is saying that!” Kate was exasperated. “But you have to admit that in this particular case the evidence seems to indicate that Jill
is
the wronged party.”

“By her own account!” Giacomo pointed out, raising his voice to be heard over the others. “By her own hand!”

“Yes!” Kate shot back. “Because
she
is the one who cared enough to write, while this James person is obviously going on his merry way, not giving a thought to the girl he's left behind, the girl he has grievously wronged, the girl he said he loved—”

“Yes, that's
your
interpretation, but where is the evidence? Where are the facts to support it?” asked Giacomo, becoming even more heated.

“Just look at the letter!” Kate was close to yelling, herself, as she picked up the paper and waved it in the air for emphasis. “It's all right there in the text!”

“Excuse me. Excuse me!
Excuse me!
”

The din of battle was abruptly silenced as everyone turned to see Kate's father, looming in the doorway, his hair standing on end as if he had been running his hands through it.

“Professoressa Marchese,” he said in a tight, controlled voice. “If I might have a word?”

“But of
course,
Professore Sanderson,” she said, flashing a brilliant smile. “Is there a problem?”

“A problem? A problem?” Kate's father sputtered. “Yes, I would say so. I would indeed say so!”

She arched one elegant eyebrow. “And what, please, is the nature of that problem? Please, do not hold back. I believe in open, honest discussion.”

“Yes, I can tell,” he said. “Because
your
class's open, honest discussion is becoming so noisy that it is quite impossible for
my
class to think! We can barely hear one another speak!”

“Ah, passion! A wonderful quality, and one that I believe should be
encouraged
in the classroom. And, of course,” she purred, “in all other areas of life as well.”

“Yes, well, er . . .” That seemed to stop him, but he recovered quickly. “Yes, yes, I would be the last person to quell an interesting discussion, but we have already begun a very intricate textual analysis.”

“Oh, indeed. I am sure we would not wish to deprive you or your students of the heady joys of textual analysis,” she murmured, making the last two words sound as dusty as a shelf of ancient Latin texts. “I believe I heard you explaining that technique a little earlier, through the wall that we share between our classrooms?”

He flushed. “I apologize if
my,
er, passion for the subject disturbed you,” he said stiffly. “But now that we have begun to really delve into the play . . . Well. It requires great concentration.”

Professoressa Marchese glanced at her class, then strolled over to put a hand on his arm. “My students are doing so well, I feel quite confident leaving them to continue on their own. Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the hall? In private?”

“Oh, ah, er . . .”

Kate had never seen her father at a loss for words. She found it a rather disturbing sight.

The door closed behind them. The newest members of the Juliet Club looked at one another for a long moment, trying to recall where they had left off.

“It's too limiting to debate whether Jill is crazy or not when, of course, there is another possibility,” Kate said, heading back into the fray.

Giacomo gave her a cool look. “And that is?”

“That is, that she's misreading the situation, but she's misreading it in his favor, assuming that he has honorable intentions.”

“But just because she
thinks
he has good intentions doesn't mean that he
does
.” Lucy picked up the point. “I remember this one time when I was in the third grade? And Jesse Cantu decided that he liked me? But I didn't like him? So he decided that I would fall in love with him if he rescued me from some kind of danger, because that's what always happens in the movies? So one day he told me that there was a surprise waiting for me in the cupboard at the back of the classroom and all I had to do was go in at recess and open the cupboard door—”

“And you believed him?” Benno interrupted, aghast.

“Of course!” Lucy said indignantly. “Because I'm from Mississippi! Where we believe people! So anyway, when I opened the cupboard there was a whole mess of spiders in there and I know people say that spiders scuttle away when they see you coming, but these spiders jumped out at me like they were rabid or something and Jesse ran into the room to save me but I was screaming so much that the principal called 911!” She paused for breath. “And the only good thing that happened was that we all got out of school for the rest of the day.”