Fakespeare--Star-Crossed in Romeo and Juliet Page 4

  Romeo helped the boy, Mercutio, up. His nose was red enough to match any Capulet outfit.

  “Thanks,” Mercutio said thickly. “I love dogs, but my nose and I really don’t agree on that.”

  Romeo pulled out a handkerchief. “You scared us half to death,” he said as Mercutio gratefully took the cloth.

  “I would’ve gotten away with it,” Mercutio said, wiping his nose. “But the dog ruined it!”

  “This is my best friend, Mercutio,” Romeo said, turning to Becca and Sam. “This is … I never actually got your names, did I?”

  “I’m Becca,” Becca said. “And this boy with the untied shoe is Sam. The dog is Rufus.”

  “Charmed,” Mercutio said, energetically shaking Becca’s and Sam’s hands at the same time. He turned to Romeo and slapped him on the shoulder. “Romeo, madman, lover of good poetry and writer of … bad poetry. Best Friend, Confidant, Cool Dude, and my personal favorite—Partner in Pranks!”

  “Pranks?” Becca looked at Romeo in surprise. With his sad expression, it was hard to picture him doing anything as fun as pranks.

  “I know,” Mercutio said, looking at Romeo with a shake of his head. “Hard to believe for somebody who just met him, I’m sure. Back in the day, Romeo was a master of practical jokes, pratfalls, goofs, gimmicks, and all kinds of nonsense. Once we tricked Lord Montague into gluing his hat to his own elbow!”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Romeo said. “But that was when we were children—now I am a man in love!”

  Becca felt the contents of her stomach swirl a bit, and from Sam’s grimace, she knew he felt the same. Romeo was … a little dramatic.

  “Er, right,” Mercutio said, patting Romeo on the shoulder. “You are very grown-up now, but”—he wiggled his eyebrows—“wouldn’t you like to do one last prank, just for old times’ sake?”

  “I would!” Sam said, but catching Becca’s glare, he quickly added, “Er, maybe another time, though. We need to help Romeo practice for his date.”

  “Oh?” Mercutio looked at Romeo in surprise. “You got one?”

  Romeo squirmed. “Well, not exactly, but Sam and Becca have promised to help me ask out Rosaline for tomorrow’s Lotsa-Rella Ball.”

  Mercutio’s face cracked into a wide grin. “This couldn’t be more perfect! I’m going to sneak into the Capulets’ party tonight. I’m planning a leeeetle prank of my own,” he yelled. “You can help me and meet the love of your life.”

  “I doubt that,” Becca said, hugging her backpack closer to her. Mercutio seemed like fun, but she needed Romeo to be focused. “Thanks for the offer, but we need to get going—”

  “Tybalt and I have a score to settle,” Mercutio interrupted, rubbing at his nose and sniffling. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m wearing only my third-favorite white silk jacket today.”

  “I was, actually,” Romeo said.

  “Of course!” Mercutio said. He sniffled again. “Who wouldn’t?! That perfume-fountain and his nose caterpillar borrowed my first and second favorites, and he got them all slashed up in sword practice! Once I get my hands on—haaaaa, ahhhhh, HACHOOO!”

  Rufus was back. He dropped the slobbery tomato at Becca’s feet.

  Woof! The tomato looked like it’d been in a game of catch between giant slugs. Trying to ignore the sticky saliva, she threw it again for him.

  “Thank you.” Mercutio sniffed, and the snot retreated back into his nose. “Anyways, as I was saying … Wanna sneak into the Instead-Stix party tonight?”

  “Tempting, but”—Romeo looked sideways at Becca and Sam—“I need to see Rosaline.”

  “Didn’t I say?” Mercutio blew his nose one last time. “Rosaline will be at the Instead-Stix party, too!”

  Romeo lit up like a firefly.

  “But—but—but,” Sam sputtered. “You can’t meet Rosaline until you practice!”

  “We can practice at the party,” Romeo said. “I need to see Rosaline!”

  From the lovesick expression on his face, Becca knew they were in trouble.

  “Then we’ll go with you,” she said quickly. If they went to the party, they could at least try to keep Romeo away from Rosaline until they found Juliet.

  “Excellent!” Romeo said. “Party it is!”

  “Wait a second,” Sam said. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Rosaline is going to be at a Capulet party—and you’re a Montague.”

  Romeo’s shoulders slumped like a bicycle tire with a hole. “Oh, right.”

  Becca began to nod her approval at Sam, but she quickly stopped herself. Sam already bragged enough. It was one of the reasons she wanted to escape to Hawaii with Mom.

  “Never fear!” Mercutio said. “It’s a masquerade ball! Everyone must wear a mask. No one will recognize you.” He straightened his sword belt. “Of course, it’ll be harder to get into the party.”

  “What do you mean?” Becca asked. If it was impossible to get in, maybe there was still a chance they could persuade Romeo to skip the Capulets’ party.

  “I overheard the guards, and they said they will be checking the guests carefully to make sure that nothing funny—ha-ha-HACHOO! HACHOO!”

  Becca glanced around to see Rufus galloping toward them, ears flapping. He skidded to a halt in front of her and deposited the contents of his mouth onto her foot.

  It wasn’t a tomato, but a rolled-up piece of paper. Becca gingerly pinched it up. “This isn’t what you were supposed to fetch,” she said.

  Woof! Woof!

  Sam reached into his pockets and gave Rufus another cookie. “I’ve been trying to get him to fetch the newspaper in the morning,” he said.

  “But it’s not a newspaper,” Becca said. Looking at the wet paper more closely, she realized it was one of the posters she’d seen around the city.

  PERFORMING TONIGHT AT CAPULET MANSION:

  MADAME LORELEI AND HER FIERY-FOOTED STEEDS!

  ENTERTAINMENT FOR ALL AGES, OCCASIONS, AND TASTES!

  MARVEL AT DRAMA, ACROBATICS, MUSIC, AND NOVELTY ACTS

  “Ooh, the FFS!” Mercutio said. “They’re world famous for their impressions and avant-garde plays. If only I didn’t have to avenge my best suit, I would probably stay at the party just to watch them perform.”

  The creaking and clip-clopping of a large wagon drew Becca’s attention away from the poster. On the wagon’s side was the same logo that was in the middle of the poster.

  “I have an idea,” she said, turning to the boys. “I hope you don’t get stage fright!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  SOME POEMS ARE HAPPY AND SOME POEMS ARE SAD; SOME RHYMES ARE GOOD AND SOME RHYMES ARE LESS GOOD

  “Excuse me!” Becca ran up to the wagon. The driver gathered the reins a bit, squinting like Becca was an unwelcome beam of harsh sunlight. Several men and women poked their heads up over the side of the wagon.

  “We’re new in town,” Becca said, “but we’re skilled entertainers, and we would like to join you! We are even willing to do our first show for free.”

  “Is that so?” the driver asked. “I’m sure you all did very well in your kindergarten production of Counting to Ten: The Musical, but I’ll need a little more convincing than that. We require a recommendation for an audition.”

  “How’s this for a recommendation?” Mercutio said, strutting up next to Becca with a note in his hand. “A letter of approval from Lord Capulet himself. And since he’s the one throwing the party you’re performing at tonight…”

  Lorelei looked over the note carefully. “Hmm, the note is rather short and hasty, but it does have the Capulet official stamp.”

  Mercutio winked over Lorelei’s head at Becca and pulled a small metal object out of his pocket. A stamp. Maybe that’s why they’d run into him by Capulet Mansion.

  “Very well,” Lorelei said. “I accept this recommendation. But you still have to audition. No favoritism in my Fiery Steeds!”

  She pulled the cart into a dead-end alley, and her performers sprang to life.

  “S
teeds, assemble!” Lorelei cried. The troupe instantly formed a semicircle around Sam, Becca, Romeo, and Mercutio. Rufus had snapped the poster back from Becca and was gnawing it quietly at her feet.

  “Now then,” Lorelei went on, “we perform a variety of acts: musical, dramatical, comical, acrobatical, and so forth. But ants are banned,” she said. “No ants of any kind are allowed to come within a hundred yards of the wagon.”

  “Aunts like in family, or ants like in bugs?” Sam asked.

  “Bugs,” Lorelei said with a shudder. “We, er, had a bad experience in Denmark.” She changed the topic. “What are your skills? Are you musicians? Actors? Dancers?”

  “None of the above,” Becca said, and gently shoved Sam forward. “First, I present our athlete, Samstank—er, Sam Kablam!”

  “Hey!” Sam said, looking back to glare at her.

  Becca nodded at him. “You perform in front of gymfuls of people all the time!”

  Sam crossed his eyes at her, but he said, “For this act, I will need a basketball.”

  There was an uneasy silence as the actors looked at Sam and at one another, trying to understand his words. Then one of them went into the cart and came back out with a round ball made of woven wicker.

  Literally, a basket-ball.

  The actor tossed it to Sam, who expertly caught it and instantly tried to bounce it.…

  “Enough!” Lorelei said. “I think we’ve all seen quite enough. I don’t care if you have a recommendation co-signed by the Nine Muses! You are banned from the Fiery Steeds!”

  Becca was running out of ideas.

  “Narrate for yourself,” she muttered.

  The actors were slowly climbing back into the cart. Once they were gone, that would be the end of the kids’ chance at sneaking into the Instead-Stix party.

  This should have been a good thing, since Becca and Sam didn’t want to go to the Capulet party anyway, but Becca knew that Romeo was so desperate to see Rosaline that he would definitely try climbing the gate.

  Then he’d be caught, and how could Juliet fall in love with Romeo if he was in jail?

  Rufus’s whine interrupted Becca’s desperate thoughts. She looked over to see that he was rolling on the ground. The whine got higher and higher.

  The fur around Rufus’s mouth was stained pale red, and he had tomato seeds stuck in his teeth. With all the tomatoes lying around, he could’ve eaten a few dozen of them just since they’d left the cheese shop.

  “Oh boy,” she said under her breath. She’d seen these symptoms from Rufus before, and she knew what would happen next.

  Rufus lurched to his feet and took one hesitant step before …

  PPPPBBBTTTTT!

  He released a fart that sounded like a bugle player getting punched in the stomach.

  BUUUUUUURP!

  A split second later, he unleashed a burp like a bullfrog being used as a croquet ball.

  He spent the next ten seconds going fart, burp, fart, burp, one pushing him forward and the other pushing him backward.

  PPPPBBBTTTTT!

  BUUUUUUURP!

  PPPPBBBTTTTT!

  BUUUUUUURP!

  Finally, Rufus let out one last combination and then sighed.

  His tail started wagging again, as though he hadn’t even noticed he’d just made the whole alley smell like a vat of hundred-year-old tomato sauce.

  “My.”

  Becca looked up to see Lorelei pinching her nose.

  “My oh my!” A thin grin inched across the theater director’s face. “That was the most ghastly performance I have ever seen! Your beast must be a part of the Fiery-Footed Steeds’ act!”

  “We’re his handlers,” Sam said, gesturing to himself and Becca. “Roo doesn’t go anywhere without us.”

  Lorelei squinted her eyes, then nodded. “All right. But you,” she said, pointing to Romeo, “still need to audition.”

  “Uh, yes,” Romeo said. “I…”

  “Read your poem,” Sam whispered harshly.

  Romeo gulped. “Of course. Just let me…” He shuffled through his pockets, little scraps of paper and empty ink pots spilling onto the street. He unfolded a scraggly old piece of parchment and cleared his throat:

  My love is like a little bird

  That sings at morning time.

  The song it sings does sound absurd,

  No melody or rhyme.

  But what can I expect this bird

  Who hops around, this little bird,

  Wow, not much else that sounds like bird,

  Or, for that matter, time.

  The Fiery-Footed Steeds were starting to chuckle. Several amused snorts bubbled up. Romeo looked up nervously, then kept going:

  This lovebird with its birdy love

  Which fits it like a birdy glove …

  Romeo paused, scratching the top of his head with the quill nub. “Would birds wear gloves? Or three-toed shoes?” He looked helplessly out at the Steeds. “Bird clothing’s not exactly my specialty.”

  The actors were now guffawing! Tears of laughter streamed down the troupe’s faces.

  “Maybe I should skip ahead,” Romeo rambled, “and get back to the love part before I completely lose the rhyme. Oh, never mind.”

  “Bravo!” Lorelei said, as the rest of her actors hopped onto their feet for a standing ovation. “If you include this poem in your act, you’ll be set for many years! It must be so hard for you to come up with words that rhyme so badly.”

  Romeo opened his mouth to protest, but Becca quickly stepped on his toe.

  “You are welcome to go through the Fiery-Footed Steeds’ costumes to figure out what you’ll need for tonight,” Lorelei said. “Let me have a word with your manager.”

  “Naturally,” Mercutio said, sticking out his hand and smiling a teacher’s pet smile. He stepped off to the side with Lorelei to look at some paperwork.

  Even though the auditions had turned out better than expected, Becca still had a strange feeling in her stomach.

  “Well, now I have a strange feeling,” Becca groaned. And indeed, it felt as though there were giant moths wrestling in her stomach. They were now part of the troupe, but Becca still needed drop the books off at the library, do her homework, and work on her writing—all before bedtime!

  “My stomach hurts, too,” Sam said. “Can’t you let us enjoy this moment for, you know, a moment?!”

  Sure. Just try not to think about really sharp, pointy swords.

  “Great,” Becca said as she carefully checked her backpack to make sure the book—the only ticket home—was still there. “That definitely won’t make me think about swords.”

  Happy to help.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PRETEND PIZZA AND REAL SWORDS

  “Hey, Becca-breath, what’s smarter than a talking parrot?” Sam asked, smirking at Becca through his candy-cane-striped mask.

  “Leave me alone, Samstank,” Becca said. She looked miserably down at the parrot mask in her hands. It smelled like fifty years of book dust with a light touch of mold, but it was the only one that fit. Over her own clothing, she was wearing a long, feathery-patterned tunic in blues and oranges. Sam had found a jacket with bright red-and-white stripes that sort of matched his candy-cane mask and generally made him look like something you’d pick out of a bin in a drugstore for seventy-five cents.

  Sam ignored her. “A spelling bee!”

  Becca raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, well anything’s smarter than a—a peppermint or whatever you’re supposed to be.” Sam just smirked and attached a lace ruff around Rufus’s neck.

  “Quiet back there!” Mercutio’s head popped from behind the changing curtain. A large cape hung from his shoulders, and a gold crown was perched on his messy hair over his matching gold mask. “We’re going to go through the gates soon, and we don’t want any extra attention.”

  “Where did you get that?” Sam asked, looking at the crown in obvious jealousy. “It’s way better than any of our hats.”

  Mercutio
removed the crown and gave it an extra polish. “This old thing? Borrowed it from the prince of Denmark. Possibly without asking or telling him.”

  Becca narrowed her eyes at him. “You stole it,” she said.

  “You make it sound so … thief-ish,” Mercutio said. “Besides, somebody’s already stolen Hamlet’s crown, metaphorically speak—Achoo!”

  “What’s Roo going to wear?” Becca wondered out loud. Tybalt had definitely seen their puppy with them. And if he disliked dogs because of their fur, what would he think of a dog like Rufus who could eat all the laundry AND bark AND shed?

  A horn suddenly bellowed from the front of the cart. As they rolled to a stop, they heard Lorelei yell, “Steeds, dismount!”

  “I guess this is it,” Romeo said, looking around at Mercutio, Becca, Sam, and Rufus. He was wearing a sad-face mask that fit almost too perfectly. “Good luck!”

  Sam gripped Rufus’s lace ruff and followed a sneezing Mercutio out of the cart. Becca also made to go, but she glanced behind once last time. The straps of her purple backpack were tucked under a papier-mâché giraffe. She threw a scarf over it to make sure the bag and the book inside were completely hidden.

  “Becca-breath, hurry up!”

  Becca climbed out of the cart. The side entrance of Capulet Mansion wasn’t as big as the main entrance, but it still loomed high over her head. Through the small eyeholes of her parrot mask, she could see a couple of bored-looking guards, and then a whiff of roses drenched in violet perfume mixed with an entire candle shop cut through the smell of her dusty beak.

  Becca’s stomach dropped as she turned her head to see the third person standing at the entrance: Tybalt Capulet.

  He was in a fresh, clean outfit, but Becca was pretty sure she could still see tomato seeds stuck in his hair from Sam’s earlier attack. Her heart clenched. Tybalt might not recognize her and Sam, but how many people had a dog like Rufus?

  Quickly Becca grabbed Mercutio’s cape from his shoulders and dropped it on the puppy. Luckily it had two holes worn in it that went right over Roo’s eyes. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but she hoped Tybalt would think Rufus was just a very small child pretending to be a ghost for the party.