The Cult of Romeo

VI. Thank you, Elijah Lawson

Act 1, Scene 6

On the stage in front of us, Hugo D'Angelo emerged with his large blue eyes, practically pouring out of his head, and thin black hair mussed in the lights. His face, puffed out cheeks and upturned nose, always reminded me of a mouse and now as he demanded everyone's attention, the way he moved resembled more of a scamper. It was obvious why he stayed backstage.

I met my cousin's eyes and quietly told him through a look that we'd talk more after this.

I listened to Mr D'Angelo's strongly accented voice that was bouncing with enthusiasm as he threw his arms up into the air along with his words as though he were conducting an orchestra. 

"As you all already know, we lost one of our own on Saturday," D'Angelo's voice boomed loudly around the venue. When we first arrived at the school as first years, his accent confused us. While it sometimes sounded a deep German, other times he'd get passionately Italian and then on the rare occasion a northern English.

"Our dear Elijah, a boy with so much more talent left to give. I haven't been able to stop thinking about his last performance." He paused dramatically as his arms lifted into the air. "My heart breaks."

It wasn't a mystery that Hugo D'Angelo had a flare for the dramatics. Sometimes, I wondered whether he knew he was doing it.

"In his honour, we'll host a memorial. We'll make a night out of it, just like Elijah would have wanted. It'll be full of scenes from various Shakspearian plays, with music and just...pure theatre. Parents and the papers and the West End will come to watch." D'Angelo moved to the right of the stage elegantly and people scurried out of his way.

"We'll put up a photo of Elijah here. Those who were closest to him can write eulogies, you'll perform them too. Then, we'll have an interval where the house lights can come on, people will chat and Charlotte Monet- where's Charlotte Monet?"

I shyly rose my hand up, wanting to just dissolve. He pointed with a wide grin towards me before raising his arms up to the sky.

"You'll play the piano. Then, in the end, we'll thank Elijah for the excellent work he did here in the theatre by listing all the marvellous roles he'd taken on. And we can perform some more before ending it gracefully and sensitively." D'Angelo had a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke. "Maybe some of you will be scouted if you're lucky. Or me, perhaps. Well, I'm getting ahead of myself. In essence, this is a memorial for our beloved Elijah. We'll treat it as such. So, no gossiping, please."

The West End was D'Angelo's end goal in life and didn't we know it.

"Gosh, that's the lovely Hugo D'Angelo that we all love," Julien sighed sarcastically and placed a hand to his chest.

I copied his faux star-struck behaviour and placed the back of my hand to my forehead. "His enthusiasm for the death of a child gives me the butterflies."

"I'm going to ask if he'll sign my boxers," Julien sighed dreamily.

"He's a good teacher but by christ, he pisses me off," Freya muttered. "Every time he passed me backstage on Saturday, he patted my curls, claiming that they were out of place. Yeah, his nose will be out of place next time."

Julien released a barking laugh and I shimmied down in my seat. If my cousin's crush wasn't obvious before, now he was just embarrassing himself.

"Freya!" The familiar high squeak of Jude Hamilton's voice rose above the chatter of the theatre as he made a beeline towards us. As he was the same year as me, I'd seen a lot of Jude Hamilton over the years, and with his prominent role in the drama club, I heard his voice a lot too.