Chapter Eleven: 'Close fighting 'ere did I approach.'

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Kael wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but after the week of enthusiasm, he had found that he didn’t want to stop. He was enjoying it. Enjoying it. This wasn’t normal! Two weeks passed, then three, and Kael found himself sucked further and further in, finding the experience of working hard on something much more exciting than he ever thought possible.

He’d hinted at it to Isis, and she’d positively beamed. ‘I knew you’d enjoy it if you tried!’ she had told him, with an expression that made him want to kiss her even more than he usually did.

So far, the rehearsals had consisted of getting to know their characters, and what was roughly in each scene, ready to start doing the improvisation which would make up their script. Isis and Kael had been given the job of writing up the script from the dictaphone they were planning to use, something Kael was rather excited about. This meant he now got to spend more time with Isis? He couldn’t wait.

He strolled into the central hall of the school where the tatty stage was. The stage hadn’t improved, but when the curtains were drawn back, at least it wasn’t blindingly obvious how moth eaten and disgusting they were.

Isis and Lydia waved at him from where they were sat in the corner, and he headed over to join them, watching as Isis pulled her hair over one shoulder and grinned.

‘Hello, gorgeous ladies,’ he said, sitting down next to Isis, and peering at their scripts. ‘You all alright?’

‘We’re in a slight panic,’ Isis confided.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Xavier managed to break his leg skateboarding home,’ she explained.

‘Bloody idiot,’ Lydia commented.

‘Ah,’ said Kael. He and Xavier were meant to be choreographing their fight today, ready for the scene in which he was killed. ‘Right.’

‘He should be out of the plaster before the play: it’s not a major break, but we do need to choreograph it,’ Isis told him.

‘So we’ll just get someone to do the honours until then?’ Kael asked.

Isis nodded. ‘Yep. Anyone will do.’

Kael hopped up enthusiastically. ‘What about you, then?’ he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She raised an eyebrow back. ‘But I’m absolutely rubbish at fighting.’

‘My point exactly,’ he replied. ‘I don’t want to look like an idiot.’

‘But you’re going to get killed!’ she protested. ‘I can’t just give you a gentle shove and then you somehow die!’

‘Just do it, Is,’ Lydia said, grinning wickedly. ‘I want to see this!’

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