Damaged In-Law (6 page)

Along with the man who
’
s buying, of
course.

Chapter Five

Eight years earlier

The Benson Home

Late afternoon sunlight spills across the pages of my script
as I drink in every syllable of Shakespeare
’
s words, committing
the lofty language to memory.

“
What's in a name?
” I murmur to myself, drilling the
lines as I roll onto my stomach across the four post bed. “
That which we
call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet...
”

I glance back down at the script, moving along to the next
bit of the monologue. Auditions for our senior year spring play aren
’
t for another two weeks, but I
’
m
determined to have all my lines memorized as early as possible. We
’re doing
Romeo and Juliet
this year, and it
’
s the first time I
’
m taking the plunge and
auditioning for a role in one of our school
’
s plays.
Usually I just sign up to help with props or costumes, watching from afar as
Jack and the other thespians strut their stuff. But after years of longing to
be on stage, I
’
m finally going to go for it.

And I
’
m scared out of my goddamn mind.

“
Romeo, doff thy name,
” I go on, swinging my feet
onto the hardwood floor as I read from my script, “
And for that name which
is no part of thee...take all myself.
”

I glance across the room and catch my reflection in the
full-length mirror. At eighteen, I
’
m still as petite as
ever. I
’
m decked out in my signature uniform of slouchy
gray and black layers, chunky combat boots, and heavy black eyeliner. One thing
’s for certain: I don’
t look like anyone
’
s
idea of Juliet. But I
’
ve given up trying to fit in among
my preppy Westchester peers. High school graduation is only a few months away,
and after that, I
’
ll finally be off to college. I haven
’
t decided where I
’
m going just yet, but my
imagination is brimming with possibilities about what I want to study. I know I
want to major in creative writing, but lately I
’
ve been
dreaming about studying theater as well.

It
’
s always been a secret dream of mine
to give acting a try. I love watching classic films and TV shows, going to see
Broadway plays, and writing scripts of my own, too. Sometimes, I even work on
monologues and scenes up here in my room, trying my hand at transforming into
my favorite characters. I absolutely love the challenge of it, even if no one
ever sees the fruits of my labor. I
’
ve never had the
chance to explore my hidden interest here at home. My parents want me spending
my time on “serious” activities. Model UN, the debate team, all that stuff. But
once I
’
m in college? I
’
ll
be free to try my hand at whatever I like, at long last. Even acting.

That is, if I don
’
t bomb this audition
and prove to myself once and for all that I have no business being on stage.

I shake off my doubts, take a breath, and go back to the
beginning of Juliet
’
s monologue. But as I open my mouth to
start, a trilling peal of laughter rings out from the balcony. I peer through
the french doors leading off my bedroom and spot Avery outside, having just
burst out of her own room into the fading golden sunlight. Her long blonde
curls cascade down her back, as she raises her arms in an overdramatic gesture
of romantic longing.

“
O Romeo, Romeo!
” she sings out,
twirling around in her tiny yellow sundress, “
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
”
My sister stops short, glancing down at the script in her hands. The very same
book I now clutch to my chest. She cocks her head at the page, looking up
toward the doorway to her bedroom. “Why is she so hung up on where Romeo is?”
she asks aloud, waving the pages around, “What the hell does it even matter?”

“She
’
s not, hung up on
where
he is,” I hear a familiar voice reply. My heart nearly bulldozes through my
chest as I spot Jack striding out onto the balcony after Avery, a script of his
own in hand. “‘Wherefore
’
doesn
’
t
actually mean ‘where
’
,” he explains, “It means ‘why
’
. So—”

“Well, that
’
s just stupid,” Avery says
lightly, cutting him off.

“Tell it to the Bard,” Jack laughs, as she prances over the
balcony
’
s railing.

 I bite my lip as I watch her move to the very place I
was standing that night Jack almost kissed me. It
’
s been
years since that happened, but I still feel a stab of raw longing every time I
think about it. Since that night, nothing remotely romantic has happened
between me and Jack. We
’
ve each gone on to date other
people, and I
’
ve done my best to stop hoping for another
chance with him. But I have to admit, I
’
ve been nursing
some pretty steamy daydreams about playing Juliet to his Romeo in our school
’
s production. Hell, that was the very play we were joking about
the night of my sweet sixteen, when I thought for certain that something was
starting between us. It seems like fate.

Or at least it did three seconds ago, before Avery stepped
out onto the balcony, spouting Juliet
’
s monologue, looking
happier than I
’
ve seen her in months. Though her life has
always been haunted by past traumas, her demons have really started to get the
best of her this year. Her drinking has been getting out of control, and she
’
s barely eating a thing these days. Her bones press up through
her skin, her matchstick limbs looking like they could break any second.
Nothing has been able to jostle her out of her depression—not senior year, not
the prospect of leaving for college, not the steady stream of gorgeous
boyfriends she
’
s had of late.

Nothing except rehearsing
Romeo and Juliet
with her
oldest, best friend, Jack.

I refuse to let my eyes well up or feel let down as Avery
launches into the rest of Juliet
’
s monologue. Jack looks
on, so proud of her enthusiastic, if haphazard, performance. He
’
s
been as worried about Avery as I have, and looks absolutely elated to see her
having so much fun with this. I know, as I watch Jack explain Shakespeare
’
s dialogue and meanings to Avery, watch her focus on and
respond to what he
’
s saying, that I have to let them have
this. Without me.

With trembling hands, I close
Romeo and Juliet
and
slide it back onto my bookshelf. In a few short months, I
’
ll
get my chance to reinvent myself, be whatever kind of artist I like. But this
might be the only chance Avery gets. And I
’
ll be damned if
I take that away from her. Even if that means giving up on Jack, once and for
all.

I glance back through the french doors leading out onto the
balcony just as Jack
’
s eyes swing my way. My heart
clenches painfully as our eyes lock over Avery
’
s tanned
shoulder. I manage to muster a weak smile before turning my back on them and
resolutely walking away.

“Please, Callie!” Avery pleads, clutching my hands as she
bounces on the balls of her high-heeled feet. “Just come with me real quick. I
don
’
t want to look at the cast list by myself!”

“Ave, I
’
m gonna be late for student
council,” I tell her, trying and failing to free my hands. She may be tiny, but
she
’
s got quite the death grip, my sister.

Two weeks have flown by, and auditions for
Romeo and
Juliet
are all wrapped up. The cast list was posted right after school
ended, ten minutes ago. It wasn
’
t easy, watching all my
classmates taking their cracks at Shakespeare while I signed up to be on the
crew. Again. But after seeing how excited Avery was about the prospect of
playing Juliet, I had to take myself out of the running. Besides, it
’
s not like I would have actually gotten the part. The only
acting I
’
ve done has been for an audience of one (myself)
on a very closed set (my own bedroom). I have no idea if I
’
m
even any good.

“Couldn
’
t you blow off the geek squad
just this once?” Avery goes on, fixing her brown eyes on mine. The gold flecks
in her irises are glinting with hopes of stardom. Her excitement is more than a
little contagious. “If I don
’
t get the part, I
’
m going to need a shoulder to cry on. And if I
do
get
it, I
’
m going to need a drinking buddy!”

I tamp down a flare of panic, imagining my sister drinking
alone at three in the afternoon. It wouldn
’
t be
unprecedented.

“Why don
’
t you head over and look at
the cast list with Jack?” I suggest, “I
’m sure he’
s dying
to see it, too.”

“Oh, please,” Avery laughs, flicking a perfect blonde curl
over her shoulder. “We all know he
’
s got Romeo in the bag.
And besides, I don
’
t want my best bro to be there with me.
I want my sister.”

And just like that, I
’
m a goner. I
’
ve never been able to deny Avery anything she
’
s
wanted, be it my company, my shot at a role in the school play, or even the
object of my hopeless romantic fantasies. I know I
’
m not
doing her—or our relationship—any favors, caving to her every whim. But she
’
s been denied so much else in her life: a loving home, justice,
self-esteem, safety. How can I deny her something as simple as this?

“OK,” I give in, lacing my fingers through hers. “Let
’
s go.”

Avery lets out an excited shriek and tugs me away from my
locker. We race along side-by-side, her heels clicking as my combat boots pound
against the halls of our high school. Laughing like lunatics, we round a corner
and hurtle toward the drama department. All the other Verona hopefuls have come
and gone by the time we skid to a halt in front of the cast list hanging on the
door of the theater.

I run my eyes down the list of names and character
assignments. The first entry in no surprise to me at all:

Romeo Montague: Jackson Cole

Avery lets out a gasp, her fingers tightening around mine. I
follow her eyes to the next row of text:

Juliet Capulet: Avery Benson

The tiny twinge of regret I feel upon reading my sister
’
s name next to Juliet
’
s is immediately
replaced by joy as she throws her arms around me. I squeeze her as tightly as I
can, jumping up and down as we both babble ecstatically. Her smile could light
up an entire theater, all the way to the back row—and soon enough it
will. 

“Holy crap! Holy
crap!
” she breathes, planting a big,
lip-glossy kiss on my forehead. “I can
’
t believe this is
happening!”

“Believe it, Ave,” I grin, wiping the glittery imprint off
my face. “You
’
re going to be Juliet! I
’
m
so proud of you.”

“Thanks Cal,” she smiles, vibrating with excitement.
“Really, thank you. I mean, I saw you reading the script the other week, and I
know this is one of your favorite plays...I hope you didn
’
t
feel like I was stepping on your toes or anything.”