Saving Juliet

  "What if the friar can't convince them that it was plague?"

  "What if the potion wears off?"

  "What if Nurse chickens out and tells them about the plan? Oh God, we should never have trusted her." I bit through to the quick of my index fingernail.

  "Okay, let's all just calm down," Troy said. "It's in the friar's hands now. Worrying isn't going to help anyone."

  "He is right," Romeo said. "We must have faith." He rubbed dirt onto Mercutio's blade, trying to rub away the dried blood.

  "What's that thing you always chant when you're freaking out?" Troy asked. "Om ya."

  "Yeah. Om ya. Om ya. Om ya." We chanted together. Even Romeo joined in.

  Sure, worrying wouldn't help anyone, but it was my nature to worry, especially when a horde of thugs was preparing to disembowel me.

  "Romeo," Troy said. They sat on either side of me. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about Mercutio. He seemed like a really nice guy and a great musician. He worked a miracle with my song."

  "He was one of our finest musicians," Romeo said sadly. "He taught me to play the mandolin." Though the place was dead, pun intended, they kept their voices hushed.

  "It's a cool instrument. I learned to play it when I was a kid," Troy said. "I used to be totally into classical music, which didn't exactly make me the most popular kid at school. But then my father introduced me to this talent agent and, voila, Troy Summer was born."

  "That's not your real name?" I asked.

  He grimaced. "Are you kidding? My real name's William Jones. How boring is that?" He didn't seem like a William or a Bill. But the Troy I was getting to know didn't seem like an arrogant pop star either. This Troy had agreed to help Juliet, even though he believed it might ruin our chances of going home. This Troy was courageous and kind. But would this Troy still date every woman he came in contact with?

  We fell into silence. My butt went numb so I shifted, brushing against Troy's arm.

  "Juliet is so beautiful," Romeo said. "I have never met a girl who wanted to be an actor." He sighed. "What is her favorite color?"

  "I don't really know," I replied.

  "What kind of music does she prefer? Does she like to take walks at sunset?" He sounded like one of those personal ads. "What is her favorite flower? Is it the rose? Did you notice that her lips are like roses?"

  "Actually, Romeo, she isn't crazy about roses. In fact, don't compare her to any kind of flower, trust me." The last thing he needed was to remind her of Paris.

  "I just want to know everything about her."

  "Easy does it," Troy said. "You'll have plenty of time to learn all those things. That's the fun part."

  "Really?" Romeo asked. He leaned across my knees, eager to learn from a dating master. Here's where the old Troy would reveal himself. I rolled my eyes, preparing for his womanizing wisdom.

  "Once you start spending time together, you'll learn things about her that no one else could have told you. Things that you never would have suspected. Like the fact that she snores and has cold feet." He folded his arms and I caught his smile in my peripheral vision. Why was he smiling at me? Hey, was he referring to our nap on the cot? "Maybe you'll learn that she'd make a great doctor or that she has the capacity to care about people she barely knows." He took a dramatic pause, leaning against the wall. "Maybe you'll learn that she's not the spoiled princess you thought she was."

  "Maybe you'll learn that she'd rather have someone speak directly to her than about her," I said, folding my arms and leaning against the wall.

  "I'd be happy to speak directly to her," Troy said. "If she'd promise not to run off."

  "Fine. Go right ahead. There's nowhere for her to run off to anyway."

  Romeo gave us each a puzzled look. "Are you angry with each other?"

  Troy cleared his throat. "Romeo, would you mind checking for the friar?"

  "I'd be happy to." Romeo got to his feet and left the cramped hiding spot.

  Troy began to fiddle with his bandage. "Well, it seems that Romeo and Juliet were meant to be together after all."

  "Is that what you wanted to tell me? You wanted to say I told you so?" I really hated how defensive I always got around him.

  "I just thought that maybe some people ate destined to meet." He moved closer. Dirt smudged his face and he didn't smell like his cologne, Summer's Scent. He smelled and looked like a guy who had never heard of marketability. "Maybe we were destined to meet."

  I pursed my lips with apprehension. Was he the kind of guy who would try to take advantage of me at my most vulnerable hour--thrust out of my own time and place, possibly forever homeless, nearly raped, with a death sentence hanging over my head? But Troy's expression wasn't the least bit predatory. God, how I wanted to trust him.

  He stopped fiddling and looked at me, his gaze traveling across my face as if tracing my features. "I wish I could go back to that first day we said our lines. I never meant to hurt your feelings. I really screwed things up."

  "I don't know what you mean," I lied. He was talking about the kiss, of course. Why didn't I have the courage to tell him how I really felt? If I had learned anything from this adventure, it was that I could do whatever I set my mind to. I had cleaned an infected wound, had climbed an ivy vine into an enemy fortress, and had even chosen to wait in a cemetery when I could be fleeing the city. But I couldn't admit my true feelings to the guy who sat next to me.

  "That first time we kissed, you thought I was making fun of you, didn't you?"

  Oh crap! Why did he have to keep bringing that up? It was painful enough without having to talk about it face-to-face. Was he going to offer me kissing lessons again? But he placed a hand over mine and entwined our fingers.

  "I loved the kiss. That's why I smiled at you. I loved it. I was embarrassed by how much I loved it."

  Was he playing me, the same way Benvolio had?

  "The kiss surprised me, and that's why I said that stupid thing. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I guess I was just trying to hide my own. I was a total ass."

  "Yeah, you were," I said, withdrawing my fingers from his warm grip.

  "I'm just going to be totally honest with you, Mimi. I've always been crazy about you. But you never gave me a second chance."

  "I was hurt!" I blurted. "You should have said you were sorry."

  "I tried, believe me, I tried. But you totally avoided me. Every time I tried to talk to you, you hurried away." He was right. I had done my best to avoid him. "I thought I disgusted you."

  "You did! Because then you went out with Dominique." I hated how jealous and whiny I sounded. But there was nothing slick about this conversation, nothing rehearsed or memorized. We were raw and wounded, exhausted, and quite possibly soon to die.

  "All we did was have dinner," he said, throwing his hands in the air.

  "What about Lauren?"

  "Just dates. All of them, just dates. My agent doesn't want me seen alone in public." He was getting angry. So was I. "But what about Clarissa?"

  "What about her? I was trying to make you jealous." He was close to yelling, clenching his jaw.

  "Well, it worked!" Oops. That slipped out.

  His features softened, as did his voice. "Damnit, Mimi. I'm crazy about you. Even with all your snooty looks, even with your neurotic stage fright, even though you got me into all this mess, I'm still crazy about you. I can't get you out of my head."

  Now was the time. Say it! Admit it! Tell him that I felt the exact same way, that try as I might I hadn't been able to get him out of my head either. Tell him, tell him, TELL HIM.

  "Friar Laurence comes!" Romeo cried.

  We crossed the lane to the Capulet tomb as a horse and cart pulled up. Romeo took the reins and Troy helped Friar Laurence from the driver's seat. "Fortunately, no one else wanted to accompany me," the friar explained. Clutching a small lamp, he waddled to the back of the cart. "The memory of last year's plague is still fresh. It exacted a horrific toll on this city. Many questioned their fait
h, myself included."

  Juliet lay in the cart, her body draped with a linen sheet. "Any problems?" I asked.

  "None. But the household's grieving nearly broke my heart." He pulled the sheet aside. Juliet's skin was as colorless as her nightgown. "I will do penance until my dying day to make up for this. Come, let us get her inside." He looked at the sky. "Dawn is almost here. We must hurry."

  Romeo easily scooped her up. No longer weighed down by depression, he carried her with ease.

  Friar Laurence took his bag from the cart and slung it over his shoulder. Using the lamp, he lit a pair of torches that flanked the tomb's door. Out of the bag came a ring of keys, which he used to unlock a heavy metal gate. "To keep out thieves," he explained, returning the keys to his bag.

  We passed through death's door. Cold air enveloped us, along with the stench of rot. "There are separate rooms for the different generations," Friar Laurence told us. He led us to a smaller room off the main entry. "That is Juliet's casket." He pointed to an ornately carved coffin. "It was made for her at birth."

  "Freaky," Troy said.

  "The casket in the comer is Tybalt's. I'll have to prepare that later. So much to do, so much to do."

  The combination of lamplight, caskets, and spiderwebs gave me the creeps. Gargoyles watched our every move from their perches along the ceiling. I imagined that they came to life when no one was around. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised if someone had started playing the organ.

  The ribbons and bows of Juliet's nightgown cascaded over Romeo's arms as he held her. Friar Laurence handed the lamp to Troy, then he reached into his bag and took out a vial. "Lay her atop the casket. It's the only place." Romeo did, then took hold of her hand.

  "She's as cold as river water," he said worriedly.

  "Do not fear, my son. This stimulant will wake her." The friar's hands trembled as he uncorked the vial.

  I tilted Juliet's head as the friar dripped the vial's contents onto her tongue. He closed her mouth. Nothing happened. I tilted her head again and he fed her some more. Still nothing. "That's strange," he said, sniffing the vial. "It usually works immediately."

  Oh my God, we had killed Juliet Capulet. The elements of tragedy had prevailed.

  "Wake up," I begged. "Juliet. Juliet. Yoo hoo. Wake up."

  Troy bent over and hollered, "Hey, Juliet! Wake up!"

  "I don't know what could have gone wrong," the friar said, shaking the vial. "Holy St. Francis, there's nothing left."

  "Juliet!" we all screamed.

  Romeo took her shoulders and started to shake her gently. "Don't die," he said. "Please don't die or I shall die, too."

  "Don't say that," I said. "No one's going to die."

  "Let's try mouth-to-mouth," Troy said, setting the lamp on Tybalt's casket. He tilted Juliet's head back and was just about to place his mouth over hers when Romeo pushed him away.

  "What are you doing?" Romeo asked. "She's my love. I'll kiss her." He didn't give us time to explain the mouth-to-mouth concept. He bent over Juliet and said, "Love's first kiss," then tenderly pressed his lips to hers.

  Actually, it all makes perfect sense now that I've had time to think about it. How does one traditionally wake a sleeping princess? With a kiss, of course.

  Juliet's lashes fluttered and she took a huge breath. Romeo smiled as she opened her eyes. She didn't ask where she was. She just threw her arms around Romeo's neck and kissed him back.

  "Thank God," Friar Laurence said.

  Juliet and Romeo kept kissing. All their pent-up passion heated up that tomb, I can tell you that. It got a bit embarrassing so we turned away. "One of you had better break that up," the friar whispered. "Dawn is almost here."

  "Okay, you two," Troy said, pulling Romeo off of Juliet. "You can get a room later. We've got to get out of here."

  Friar Laurence reached into his bag again. What would he pull out this time? A magic carpet? He handed Juliet a dress. "You can't travel in that nightgown. I found this in your bed. And these slippers as well."

  "That's my dress," I said, taking the lavender and gold costume and the little backstage slippers. "It's too big for Juliet. I'll wear it and she can wear these pants. They cinch at the waist."

  "Help me move the casket into the cremation chamber," Friar Laurence said. Romeo and Troy lifted the box and followed him out of the room as Juliet and I exchanged clothes. Once again I was wearing that dreaded costume. Juliet tucked the coin bag into one of the boots. The boots were a bit big, but they'd work. She looked adorable. Color bloomed in her cheeks and excitement made her hands tremble. She had a new life ahead of her. I envied that. What Troy and I had was still unknown.

  We stood outside the cremation chamber. Friar Laurence placed the nightgown in the open casket, then threw in the lamp. "This chamber saw a great deal of use during last year's plague. The Capulets wouldn't burn their dead in the public pyres." The nightgown instantly caught fire. The friar closed the cremation chamber. "Time to go."

  We rushed to the tomb's entrance, almost knocking Lady Capulet off her feet.

  Twenty-five

  ***

  "Parting is such sweet sorrow."

  Like a ghostly apparition, Lady Capulet blocked our exit with her willowy frame. Her powdered skin was blotched and streaked from crying. "How dare you," she hissed.

  "Mother," Juliet gasped, ducking behind Romeo.

  "I thought you were dead. Do you know what you have put me through?" She clenched her fist over her heart. "When I saw my only child dead, I wanted to die! I came here for one last good-bye." She swayed, as if about to faint. Romeo stepped forward to help her but she lashed out at him. "How dare you touch me, you miserable Montague! You, who conspired to take her away without a single goodbye. Wrenching her from my life as if a mother's love is meaningless." She began to cry, deep sobbing that brought tears to my own eyes as I thought of my mother, worrying about my whereabouts, wondering if she'd ever see me again. I hadn't said good-bye. I had yelled at her and told her I hated her. Would she have to live with those last words for the rest of her life? I missed her.

  "Please, Mother, stop crying. Truly I didn't want to cause you grief but I didn't know what else to do." Juliet started crying as well.

  "You shouldn't be angry with Juliet," I said. "This was my idea."

  "You," she said hatefully. She took a rolled paper from a pocket in her cape--my missing letter. "Tybalt's men brought this to me. Fortunately, no one else read it. You planned this from the very beginning. You came here just to destroy my family." She tossed the letter to the ground and turned her anger on the friar. "And you! I shall write to the pope and have you excommunicated. You will have no church to call home. How dare you assist with this attempt to steal my daughter from her family." I quickly retrieved the letter.

  Juliet squeezed past Romeo. "No one is stealing me," Juliet said. She stepped forward and took her mother's hand. "No one has forced me. I know what you have tried to do for me, Mother. I know about the terrible heartache you endured and how you suffered for a love you could never have. I know you married Father for security and you wanted the same thing for me. But my marriage to Paris would have been loveless." She put her arms around Lady Capulet's waist and laid her head on her shoulder.

  Lady Capulet stood rigid, her arms hanging at her sides. "Love only tears your heart apart."

  "Sometimes it does, but sometimes it puts your heart back together." Juliet tightened her arms, trying her best to melt the icy exterior that her mother wore like armor. The rest of us watched in silence, no one knowing if this would be the end of Juliet's adventure or the beginning.

  "You will not change your mind about marrying Paris?" Lady Capulet asked.

  "I will not change my mind," Juliet replied. "I will leave with or without your blessing. But I tried to do so without bringing shame to the family."

  "Your determination reminds me of my own." Lady Capulet sighed. "It is not possible to cancel the contract with Paris, not without great embar
rassment and shame. Therefore we must leave everything in its place. Everyone must believe that you died of plague and were cremated this very morning." She bent her long neck and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Then so be it. You shall have your freedom."

  The walls echoed with huge sighs of relief all around.

  We emerged from the tomb as dawn's rays melted on the horizon like orange sherbet. With the light came a renewed sense of urgency. Friar Laurence paced nervously, glancing down the cemetery's narrow road.

  "Promise me that you will send a letter, now and then. Use Mimi's name to mask your true identity."