beside me.
“We all have our own personal Demons that haunt us. But nothing is beyond His mercy if we ask it.” He’s talking about The Man Himself. I suppress a giggle. What is wrong with me? Surely I’ll be struck down for sacrilege. I silently ask for my own forgiveness.
“It’s about love. Ultimately it comes down to whether we love ourselves. If the answer is no, then how can others love us?” I see Cam looking at me now. He’s pale, as though I’ve somehow frightened him.
When it’s over, we sit in the car and talk. He tells me about his favorite video games, and how he’s improved the lighting system in the auditorium. I tell him about my friend, Emily, who was always so good with computers. How she planned on becoming an engineer.
“What happened to her?” he asks.
I hesitate. “Car accident,” I say. My throat is suddenly dry, and I find it hard to breathe. I roll down the window and close my eyes. I will not cry. “It was a drunk driver.”
“I’m so sorry.” His hand is on mine before I know it. My heart nearly stops from fear, remembering what happened when I touched Josh. But I feel no shock—no electricity. I do not pull away. It must be meant to comfort me and nothing more. “Do you forgive the driver?” he asks. I am startled by this, but speak without hesitation.
“Yes. I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone.”
Our eyes meet, and he takes a deep breath as if in preparation.
“I killed her,” he says. “I killed my little sister.”
Chapter 21
Josh
Keira’s promise hangs over my head, a shadow threatening to block out the sun. She is most certainly capable of anything, and my fear is that she will take out her anger on Grace, who is only human after all. I try to convince myself that Keira will see Grace as innocent or at least inconsequential enough to leave alone. But I don’t believe that. Not really.
I try to lose myself in rehearsal. But today we are doing the scene with our first kiss, and when I see her there, golden hair lit from above like a halo, I fear the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet may become all too real. In my imagination, the scene is far more gruesome.
I recite,
“
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss
.”
“
Good Pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much
,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this:
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And Palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss
.”
“
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
”
“
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray’r
.”
“
O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do
.
They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair
.”
“
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake
.”
“
Then move not…
”
I cannot continue. I wouldn’t play it like him. I see no point in Romeo’s ultimate sacrifice. He is weak. If he really wanted to do something, if she was that important, he should have stood up to his family.
Plus, the kiss is coming.
Her eyes open wider, and she looks frightened. Is she as scared as I am of bringing down the school with fire and brimstone when our lips meet? Surely she bought the whole static-electricity-horrible-coincidence theory. I mean, she came up with it herself, right? She can’t know what I am. If she did, she wouldn’t look at me the way she does sometimes.
“The line is: ‘Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,’ Mr. Gaynes,” Miss Adams says with impatience lacing her voice. It’s one month to show time, and it’s been an ordeal trying to get some of these students to truly understand Shakespeare. Personally, I don’t see what’s not to get. Sure, the words are fancy, almost foreign, but their meaning seems clear enough to me.
“Sorry Miss Adams,” I say and start again.
Concentrate on the play
, I tell myself. I’ve never done the whole drama thing before.
“We all have our own personal Demons that haunt us. But nothing is beyond His mercy if we ask it.” He’s talking about The Man Himself. I suppress a giggle. What is wrong with me? Surely I’ll be struck down for sacrilege. I silently ask for my own forgiveness.
“It’s about love. Ultimately it comes down to whether we love ourselves. If the answer is no, then how can others love us?” I see Cam looking at me now. He’s pale, as though I’ve somehow frightened him.
When it’s over, we sit in the car and talk. He tells me about his favorite video games, and how he’s improved the lighting system in the auditorium. I tell him about my friend, Emily, who was always so good with computers. How she planned on becoming an engineer.
“What happened to her?” he asks.
I hesitate. “Car accident,” I say. My throat is suddenly dry, and I find it hard to breathe. I roll down the window and close my eyes. I will not cry. “It was a drunk driver.”
“I’m so sorry.” His hand is on mine before I know it. My heart nearly stops from fear, remembering what happened when I touched Josh. But I feel no shock—no electricity. I do not pull away. It must be meant to comfort me and nothing more. “Do you forgive the driver?” he asks. I am startled by this, but speak without hesitation.
“Yes. I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone.”
Our eyes meet, and he takes a deep breath as if in preparation.
“I killed her,” he says. “I killed my little sister.”
Chapter 21
Josh
Keira’s promise hangs over my head, a shadow threatening to block out the sun. She is most certainly capable of anything, and my fear is that she will take out her anger on Grace, who is only human after all. I try to convince myself that Keira will see Grace as innocent or at least inconsequential enough to leave alone. But I don’t believe that. Not really.
I try to lose myself in rehearsal. But today we are doing the scene with our first kiss, and when I see her there, golden hair lit from above like a halo, I fear the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet may become all too real. In my imagination, the scene is far more gruesome.
I recite,
“
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss
.”
“
Good Pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much
,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this:
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And Palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss
.”
“
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
”
“
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray’r
.”
“
O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do
.
They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair
.”
“
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake
.”
“
Then move not…
”
I cannot continue. I wouldn’t play it like him. I see no point in Romeo’s ultimate sacrifice. He is weak. If he really wanted to do something, if she was that important, he should have stood up to his family.
Plus, the kiss is coming.
Her eyes open wider, and she looks frightened. Is she as scared as I am of bringing down the school with fire and brimstone when our lips meet? Surely she bought the whole static-electricity-horrible-coincidence theory. I mean, she came up with it herself, right? She can’t know what I am. If she did, she wouldn’t look at me the way she does sometimes.
“The line is: ‘Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,’ Mr. Gaynes,” Miss Adams says with impatience lacing her voice. It’s one month to show time, and it’s been an ordeal trying to get some of these students to truly understand Shakespeare. Personally, I don’t see what’s not to get. Sure, the words are fancy, almost foreign, but their meaning seems clear enough to me.
“Sorry Miss Adams,” I say and start again.
Concentrate on the play
, I tell myself. I’ve never done the whole drama thing before.
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