The Fairest Stars

Chapter Six: 'The mad blood stirring.'

Over the next few days which preceded the rehearsals, Kael found himself growing more and more unenthusiastic for the event. The few moments he’d spent feeling happy about his part had soon vanished, and he was left feeling majorly unimpressed with the fact that he’d be practicing after school so frequently for the next few months.

It wasn’t as if he was missing anything by not being at home, but still, it was extra time at that dump of a school, when he really should have been at his house, relaxing. Instead, he’d be charging around onstage, chanting Shakespeare. He could only thank his lucky stars that none of his friends from boarding school could see him now. His reputation, carefully built up over all these years, would be knocked to the floor in mere seconds. Other plays were fine, but Romeo and Juliet? That was a recipe for cringy acting.

Isis didn’t seem to see it that way though, he reflected, as he sat in Maths, the last lesson of the day before the rehearsals started. She seemed to be permanently enthusiastic for what was to come, not even fazed by the amount of lines she needed to learn. Perhaps she was one of those really sad people who had nothing better to do in their life, and so any small excitement was the equivalent of winning the lottery. Or she might just really love acting.

Kael smiled. He could tell that it was the latter. Isis’s acting just radiated how much she loved it; there were no two ways about it. Perhaps he was being too harsh on her.

He was brought abruptly out of his contemplation by something bouncing off of his forehead. Rather startled, the piece of screwed up paper which had hit him coming to rest on the table, he looked about for the culprit. A brown haired boy, wearing a beanie waved at him from the table in front. Ah. He knew that boy; he was in the play too, but he had no idea what his name was. Awkward.

‘Hi!’ the boy said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me lobbing that at you.’

‘Er, not at all,’ Kael replied, wondering what the boy would do if he had minded. Probably thrown another one at him, just to pester him.

‘Looking forward to the rehearsals?’ he inquired.

Kael smiled. ‘Uh, sure. You?’ That had kind of sounded enthusiastic. Yeah, who was he fooling? He’d sounded as if he couldn’t care less if the rehearsals danced an Irish jig in front of him, lobbing paper ball after paper ball at his head.

‘I can’t wait! It’s going to be so much fun.’

‘Yeah,’ Kael replied, but internally sighed. What was it with all these people and their irrepressible enthusiasm? You’d have thought that they’d gotten a part in the West End rather than a rubbish school play.

Though perhaps, the more generous side of Kael’s thinking countered, this school is so crap that the play is the only good thing about it.

Looking around him at the peeling paint and faded posters, Kael was inclined to agree with that.

‘How are you-?’ the boy began, just as Kael remembered his name. Lucas! That was it.

‘Enough chatting!’ the teacher snapped, and Lucas turned round, an apologetic expression on his face.