Page 49 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

Music boomsfrom the earbuds plugged into my ears, and I slap a hand against my hip in rhythm to the song infiltrating my mind. I nudge the door to the drama club open with my foot and stop.

Everyone is here.

Not everyone but half the school soccer team is present. I pluck out the earbuds and shove my phone into my pocket. My feet refuse to function. I pinch my thighs, praying my brain sends signals to them, but they remain glued to the floor. The hall is packed with tall walls of bricks in the form of jocks. I can almost touch the testosterone in the air. Their heads snap to me in unison, and my eyes find my sneakers.

What are they doing here?

“Tessa, nice of you to finally join us,” Ms. Jota says. The cheeriness in her voice washes off some of the awkwardness. I walk briskly to where she’s seated. I’m only a few minutes late, so she won’t reprimand me, but the unwarranted attention feels like punishment. “We have new members.”

The new members are the boys seated in a circle straddling their chairs backward. I drag a seat behind Ms. Jota’s work table. She glances at me without saying a word, but I am grateful for her frame, which hides me from the view of those boys. I don’t understand why they are here. Are they lost? Because this is not the gym or school field. Ms. Jota doesn’t seem to mind. She looks content with the number. On the plus side, we might get our Romeo. They are all good-looking.

Whitney giggles. I look to see her in the circle of boys. Her friends are also with her. For the life of me, I can’t recall their names. They whisper among themselves, hands over their mouths to stifle the giggles that still escape as they cackle like aged witches. I feel someone’s hot gaze on me. My eyes flit in that direction, and my heart slows when I locate the blue eyes fixated on me.

Calling him a witch or wizard doesn’t sound right. It also lacks the same intensity. Well, he’s a male bitch. I avert my gaze and drop my school bag at my feet to retrieve my script. I spent most of last night and this morning rehearsing my lines, but with all of them present, I might not remember.

Why do they have to be here?

My hands shake as I reach for the zipper of my backpack. I miss it twice and give up. I’m super nervous, and rehearsals haven’t started. Great. Ms. Jota stands, leaving me visible to the boys. I hear a few whistles and catcalls directed at me. I raise my head to glare at them, realizing my shirt has bunched at my back. My cheeks burn a bright pink as I tug the hem of my shirt over the waistband of my jean, thankful that the part of my skin on display has no white patches.

“Before we start,” Ms. Jota calls out in a powerful voice, and I am forgotten as everyone’s eyes return to her. She walks to the center of the stage with the scripts in one hand. When she turns to Whitney, who smiles politely at her, I gag in my brain. “I would like to know if everyone is here for the drama or…some are here for the set designs. The numbers are welcome, but I need to know before we start. Introduce yourself, please and let us know.” Pointing to one of the boys, she says, “You, yes. You first. Introduce yourself. What name do you want to be addressed?”

Noise breaks out among the boys after Ms. Jota’s statement. Typical of them. They can’t do without causing a commotion. My gaze darts to Whitney, who is all too pleased with herself. We wanted more members, not the hottest guys in school. Even manwhore Noah is here. Can the boy even read? Yes, he’s hot, but hot alone doesn’t cut it for me. Hot with brains? Yes. Like Ben.

I give myself a mental slap for thinking about him, my fingers dig into my palm to stop me from peeking at him, but my eyes have a mind of their own. I steal a glance. From my periphery, I catch Ben already staring at me and duck my head so that my hair falls over my face to hide my blush.

That boy is odd.

First, he winks at me in the cafeteria, saves me from getting kicked out of Mr. Sam’s class, warns me about Daniel, threatens me to stay away from his brother, punches me right after, and then accepts my offer of a ride only to begin ignoring me. Talk about weird. I don’t even like him that much. He doesn’t know how to treat a girl, which might be why Olivia cheats on him with Noah.

Heavy footsteps fill the silence as the boys move to the stage. I squeeze my lips as the first group starts their introduction, not caring to look at them. I can identify them by their voices. They are halfway gone with the introductions when it hits me that someone is missing. I raise my hand.

Ms. Jota nods. “Yes, Tessa?”

A lump forms in my throat when different pairs of eyes turn to me. “Curt is not here.”

“Curtis?” That’s his full name. I nod, and she pulls out a note from under the script. “He quit.”

Instant relief fills me. Guilt tries to take over, but it’s swallowed by happiness. Curt is too loud, and I still dislike him for eating my cookies. It will be awkward having him as my partner on set. He’s too short to play Romeo. Wait a minute, who says I am playing the role of Juliet? What if Whitney gets it? She brought all these people. Ms. Jota might give her the spot. My eyes locate Ms. Jota at the corner of the stage, watching the boys introduce themselves while dishing out scripts to those who care for acting. I want the role of Juliet. It’s the only one that truly matters.

I look up at the sound of chairs scraping the floor. The boys have been grouped. Noah is on the left side of the stage, and Ben is on the right. I am not sure what he picked. How did Whitney get him to come here? Sure, they sit at the same table in the cafeteria, but I have never seen them talk. Why is he here without his almighty girlfriend? Drama club is the perfect place for her to dominate.

“It’s settled then. Thank you,” Ms. Jota says, and they file down the stage to their seats. “We already started the auditions, but you boys will have more time to practice since the play isn’t until next year. I will ask the art teacher, Mr. Rizwan, to provide us with designs to use. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” echoes through the room.

I grow conscious when she turns to me, then spares a look at her wristwatch. “We have a bit of time for rehearsal today.” Her eyes return to the boys, and I relax. “Who wants to play Romeo?”

Numerous hands shoot up in response, and I swallow tight. That’s a lot of potential Romeos for only one play. All of them want it, including the boys who volunteered for set designs. Ms. Jota laughs and gives Whitney a double thumbs up. My insides knot with fury, maybe even jealousy.

I thought I was her favorite.

“Does Romeo get to kiss Juliet?” one of them, a blond with one hand in his pocket, asks.

Another person says, “Who’s playing Juliet?”

“Tessa will,” Ms. Jota replies, and my eyes round to the size of saucers.Holy cow! I’m Juliet.

She doesn’t glance at me to see my reaction. I blink at the stage, picturing myself in my costume while reciting my lines to an audience that jumps to their feet to clap for me at the end of my outstanding performance. Wow. It will also look good on my applications.We can do this, Juliet.

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