Page 4 of XO

Jacob steps forward, and the crowd cheers their football and sports day captain. He side-glances me for the briefest of moments, and my cheeks flush. “Couldn’t have done it without my team,” he starts gallantly, his football jocks elbowing each other. “But of course, where there’s a winner, there’s always got to be a loser.” His smirking face meets mine, and I want to punch him. “Sorry, Posie. I can give you some pointers for next time.”

My small hands ball into fists.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

~

“‘I see a woman may be made a fool, if she had not a spirit to resist.’” I recite the lines from Shakespeare’sTaming of the Shrewon stage to Ms. Zagwich, who sits on her stool outside the glow of the spotlight which illuminates me. I lower the script and search for her face. “Ms. Zagwich, this seems incredibly chauvinistic. And I know it’s Shakespeare, but even his narratives can become outdated.”

“Ms. Reign…” she starts, and I can picture the exact face she’s wearing. Wide-eyed like a startled deer, lipliner bleeding beyond their intended surface. “I can assure you theTaming of the Shrewis not outdated.”

“I’m pretty certain even the title speaks in my defense.”

“Have you read through it?”

“Of course.”

“And? You don’t think it simply suggests a successful man and woman can work in tandem together?”

“I’m not disregarding the objective. It’s how he goes about achieving his objective by humiliating Kate.”

“Rosie, I do understand what you’re saying. Believe me, I do,” she states so weakly I don’t think she understands at all. “But the American Youth Drama Association has decidedTaming of the Shrewis this year’s play for those seeking a scholarship.”

“Is it a board of all men?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” I sigh, realizing it’s a losing battle. “Have you found a Petruchio yet?” It seems, in a football-cultured school, the idea of playing aShakespearelead doesn’t take the fancy of many… or any… senior males.Figures.

“Ah… well, I have actually. In a weird turn of events—”

“‘To be, or not to be,’” a familiar voice booms quotingHamletfrom the blackened audience. I squint but can’t make anything out. “For‘tis nobler in the mind to…suffer,um…The slings and’… shit… the um…” There’s a pause and then he continues, “‘arrows of outrageous fortune—’”

“What in the actual hell…”

Footsteps thud on the stairs, and Jacob Lynch strides across the stage until his face meets the spotlight. I sigh heavily, and he boyishly grins at my obvious annoyance.

“Nice attempt but wrong play,” I mutter.

“It’s all the same.”

“No. Actually, it’s not.”

He turns to my drama teacher. “You look beautiful, Ms. Zagwich. As always.”

From the shadows, I hear, ‘Oh, stop!’ and I roll my eyes at how he purposefully gets others on his side, so I look like the crazy person.

“Why are you here?”

His eyes widen in mock surprise. “Oh, you weren’t told?”

My heart skips a beat. “Told what?”

Arms out, he takes a slow bow. “I’m your prosciutto.”

I snort out a laugh. “Nice to meet you, ham.”

Jacob seems rightfully puzzled when he draws his eyebrows together. “What?”

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