“Do not stay to question,” said the friar. “The watch is coming. I dare no longer stay!”
With that, the friar darted through the front door of the vault and out into the darkness beyond. But Juliet didn’t move. She saw Romeo on the floor and stared at him as if she didn’t believe what she was seeing.
Then she spotted something in his hand. She slid to the floor next to him. “What’s this? A vial closed up in my true love’s hand?”
“It’s poison,” I said. “He thought you were dead. We couldn’t stop him. But at least you’re okay. Now, come on. We really don’t want the guards to catch us here. The prince is way mad already—”
A voice shouted, “What noise comes from there?”
I tried to pull Juliet up. “We need to leave—”
Frankie peeked out the door. “There’s still a chance, but the guards are closing in!”
“Then I’ll be brief,” said Juliet. “Oh, happy dagger, take me to my love. Romeo—let me die with you!”
“Dagger?” I said.
“What?” said Frankie. “Where did she get that! No!”
But it was too late. We rushed to stop her, but Juliet pushed us away. There was a sudden flash of silver in the candlelight, a sigh, and Juliet slumped next to her Romeo.
“Juliet!” Frankie screamed.
But it was clear that the girl was already gone. She’d said her last line, and it wasn’t a good one.
Footsteps were right outside. “The ground is bloody,” someone said. “Search the churchyard!”
Frankie and I crouched down on the floor of the tomb.
Everyone rushed in.
The leader of the watch stood aghast at the sight. “Pitiful sight,” he muttered. “Paris slain, Juliet newly dead who was put here two days ago. You there!” he said to a guard. “Go tell the prince. Run to the Capulets. Rouse the sleeping Montagues to see this tragedy.”
I glanced at Frankie. She looked at me.
Yeah. It was a tragedy, all right.
And we couldn’t stop it or change it.
In a few minutes, it was like a sad reunion of all the characters still alive, crowding around all the ones who weren’t.
The prince himself entered, lighting the place with a blazing torch. “What terrible occurrence calls us from our rest?”
Mr. Capulet hustled up and pushed away the guards. His wife came stumbling right behind him.
“People in the street cry Romeo,” Mrs. Capulet said. “Some Juliet, and some Paris—and all run to our family tomb!”
She staggered into the tomb. A moment later, she cried a muffled cry.
Montague forced his way in next. “My wife,” he said, “my wife … is dead tonight. Grief over my son’s banishment broke her heart and stopped her breath. What tragedy is here? What happened, tell me!”
Friar Laurence gave the crowd a whole summary of what had happened. Frankie and I broke down a couple of times—so did everyone else—because the story was so sad, but, strangely, it actually felt good to get it all out.
When the friar was finishing up, I raised my hand.
“I just wanted to say that everybody, the friar, me, Frankie, Benvolio, everybody tried to stop all these folks from dying. But we just … couldn’t.…”
“It’s true,” said Frankie, wiping her face and taking over when I got too choked up. “We wanted a happy ending to the story. We tried lots of stuff, but we just couldn’t change it. The only way the ending could have been changed is if … if …”
“Yes?” said the prince. “If what?”
I knew what Frankie meant, and I took over. “If the Montagues and Capulets had gotten over their problems with one another. This here, all these nice dead people, is what happens when fighting becomes more important than family.”
We were done. We went quiet. So did everybody else. But I could tell from the expression on his face that the prince agreed with us. It was a cool feeling. If he were a teacher, he’d probably have given us an A.
“Listen to these children,” he said, finally. “Even though they are young, they have seen the truth of what tragedy has happened here.”
Frankie nudged me. “I think he thinks we did okay.”
The prince went on. “Capulet, Montague—see what a punishment is laid upon your hate? Romeo dead. Juliet dead! And all are punished.”
Capulet hung his head. “Oh, brother Montague, give me thy hand. My Juliet is gone.”
“But not forgotten,” said Montague, clasping his former enemy’s hand. “For I will raise her statue in pure gold. Forever will Verona know of true and faithful Juliet.”
“And Romeo’s statue shall be joined to hers,” said Capulet. “And never be forgotten.”
There seemed nothing more to say. The prince stepped forward in the quiet and began to speak. Frankie showed me the page and I read along.
“A glooming peace this morning with it brings,
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence to have more talk of these sad things.
Some shall be pardoned and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”
No one said anything for a while. Suddenly, Frankie nudged me. “That was it, Dev. The last line.”
I shivered. It was really over. And to make sure of it, a sudden bright blue light sizzled just outside the tomb.
“The zapper gates!” I whispered.
“Time to go,” she said. “And like Juliet said back when a happy ending still seemed possible, ‘parting is such sweet sorrow.…’”
With that, Frankie and I slipped quietly out of the tomb, dashed down the steps, and launched ourselves right into the sizzling blue light of the zapper gates.
Chapter 19
Kkkkkk!
We tumbled and jumbled and nearly crumbled apart, but were finally hurled into the library workroom—floop! flooop!—at the very moment Mr. Wexler and Mrs. Figglehopper burst in.
“Aha!” said our teacher, giving us the wiggly eyebrow treatment. “I see you found the costumes.”
Mrs. Figglehopper laughed to see us sprawled on the floor. “But I never thought you’d actually try them on.”
Frankie grinned. “I guess we’re really into our parts.”
“And I’m really into these tights!” I said, beginning to squirm. “So into them, I can hardly get out!”
“I think we’d all better get to the cafeteria,” Mr. Wexler said, opening the doors for us. “As soon as we’re ready, we can begin our play. Too bad you didn’t have a chance to read it.”
Frankie and I smiled at each other as we hustled down the hallway.
“Oh, I think we get the basic story—” I said.
“—of Juliet and her Romeo,” said Frankie, giving me a wink. “And I am definitely playing Juliet.”
“I think I could play Romeo pretty good, too,” I said.
“Oh?” said Mrs. Figglehopper. “And what changed your mind about being in the play?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. But then I remembered what she had told us earlier. “Hey, a good story is a good story!”
Well, to make a good story short, our class put on the play for the rest of the school, and everyone flipped out.
They laughed at the funny parts and cried at the end. Frankie and I did our best to make it a fun play, but, hey, a tragedy is a tragedy.
We had excellent death scenes. I staggered all over the place before I plopped on the stage. Frankie made all kinds of wailing noises, then slumped over in a heap.
The best part was popping up at the end to take our bows.
After it was all over, Mr. Wexler applauded probably louder than everybody. Frankie and I had a feeling that, like the prince of Verona, he thought we did okay.
That meant a lot.
“Frankie, it’s funny,” I said, as we put away our costumes. “Both of us tried really hard to change the sad ending to a happy one. But even though we co
uldn’t, even though it’s a real bummer of a story, I still sort of feel okay about it.”
She nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s like what the prince said. ‘Go hence to have more talk of these sad things.’ You do want to talk about it. It makes you feel better by talking about the whole tragedy of it.”
“Because you get to talk it over with your pals.”
We headed through the halls to our classroom.
“Plus,” I said, “we can also make sure the bad things don’t happen again. That’s what a tragedy is good for.”
Frankie nodded thoughtfully. “Nicely said, Devin. And you know what else is a tragedy?”
“What?”
“Your legs … in tights.”
I gave her a look, then burst out laughing. “You looked pretty funny in that big grape-colored dress, you know!”
“Oh, yeah? Well, thou hast knobby knees!”
“And thou lookest funny climbing a rope ladder!”
“Soft, what doofus in yonder desk sits!”
“Uh-oh, Frankie,” I said. “We better call the nurse right away. I think we’re coming down with a bad case of … of …”
“What?”
“Shakespeare!”
FROM THE DESK OF
IRENE M. FIGGLEHOPPER, LIBRARIAN
Dear Reader.
Alas and forsooth! As Frankie and Devin discovered, poor Juliet and her Romeo do come to a sad end. Yet from the first performance of this play in 1595, the world seems to have taken the story of these two “star-crossed” lovers straight to its heart. I know I have. And I think Frankie and Devin have, too.
Shakespeare! A mere mention of his name conjures a list of the finest plays ever composed: Hamlet, King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Macbeth, As You Like It, Othello, Twelfth Night.
But who was William Shakespeare?
In fact, not much is known about him. We do know that he was born in 1564, probably on April 23, in the small English country town of Stratford-upon-Avon. He married Anne Hathaway when he was eighteen, and together they had three children. Sometime later, William left Stratford for the great city of London.
By 1594 he had formed his own theatrical group, The Lord Chamberlain’s Men. Within a few short years he began to be acclaimed as a writer of hilarious comedies and noble tragedies. By all accounts, William was a fast writer, too, penning two or more plays a year (and probably acting in every single one of them!).
In 1599, the famous Globe Theater was built on the banks of the Thames river in London, with William as one of its joint owners. The Globe was a large, eight-sided, open-air theater with a stage jutting out into the middle, where the crowd stood. From the time it was built, most of William’s plays premiered there.
The last major play he wrote was The Tempest, about a powerful, but aging magician who gives up his power in order to live as a normal person again. It was first performed in 1611. That year, William himself seems to have retired from the London scene, to live his remaining years in 5tratford as a country gentleman.
Shakespeare died on his birthday, April 23, 1616, and is buried in the same church where he was baptized. Stratford-upon-Avon is now a world-famous tourist attraction.
Romeo and Juliet is certainly one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays, but did you know that Romeo and Juliet were the names of two real people who actually lived (and, yes, died) in Verona, Italy, in the 14th century? Well, it’s true. Of course, what William made of that story is full of beautiful poetry, swift action, boisterous humor, and tearful tragedy. It’s no secret why people proclaim his plays the greatest in the English language!
Speaking of secrets, I’d better go turn off those pesky Tapper gates. I don’t want anyone to discover my secret!
Until then, see you where the books are!
I. M. Figglehopper
About the Author
Over the last two decades, Tony Abbott has written dozens of mysteries, comics, and adventure books for young readers aged six to fourteen, with series including Danger Guys, the Time Surfers, the Weird Zone, Underworlds, Goofballs, and the long-running fantasy series the Secrets of Droon. He is also the author of the fantasy epic Kringle and the realistic novels Firegirl (winner of the 2006 Golden Kite Award for Fiction), The Postcard (winner of the 2008 Edgar Award for Best Juvenile Mystery), and Lunch-Box Dream. Among his latest novels is The Forbidden Stone, the first installment of the twelve-book saga the Copernicus Legacy. Tony has taught on the faculty of Lesley University’s MFA program in creative writing, is a frequent conference speaker and visitor to schools, and presents workshops to creative writers of all ages. His websites include www.tonyabbottbooks.com, www.thecopernicuslegacy.com, and the literary blog www.fridaybookreport.com.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2003 by Tony Abbott
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-4804-8692-8
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Tony Abbott, Crushing on a Capulet
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