𓈊 A Poppy By Any Other Name

Act V

Jimmy whirled around, startled, to find Scott standing with his arms crossed a little ways away.

Jimmy blinked, then looked between Scott and the mess on the floor. "Oh! I was, uh, just cleaning up," he fibbed. It wasn't technically a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either. He knelt down and scooped up some of the props to try and make it sound a little more believable. "I, um..." After filling his arms, he dumped the things back into the crate. "I was looking for these props for Ms. Gold and accidentally spilled-"

"What were you doing back there, though?" Scott pointed behind Jimmy, squinting his eyes skeptically. "That didn't look like cleaning to me."

Jimmy looked behind him, realizing that there were boxes in the way and Scott couldn't see whatever was back there. "Uh-"

"Oh, you found them!" Jimmy whipped his head around to see Ms. Gold rushing up from behind Scott, her heels clacking against the wooden floor boards. She knelt down next to Jimmy, smiling. "Why don't you go ahead and get on stage." She turned to Scott. "Do you mind helping me clean this mess up?"

Scott shook his head and stepped closer.

"Thank you, sweetie." Ms. Gold turned back to Jimmy. "Mr. Harding and Grian are waiting."

Jimmy nodded, stealing one last glance at Scott, and Scott glanced back at Jimmy, before leaving.

"Here were the servants of your adversary," Grian read aloud from the script to Joel and Lizzie as Jimmy stepped out from backstage. "And yours, close fighting ere-"

"Oh, look who's arrived," Mr. Harding said loudly and unenthusiastically, interrupting Grian. Most everyone turned to look at Jimmy. "It's about time." He turned and pointed the pen in his hand to Joel and Lizzie. "Lord and Lady, we'll work on you later."

The couple nodded and stepped off the stage, and Jimmy walked on, flipping open his own script.

"Page ten," Grian whispered. "Starts with my, 'Good morrow, cousin.'"

Jimmy smiled and skipped over to said page. "Thanks."

"Are we good?" Mr. Harding asked, but he gave no time for either of them to respond. "Alright. Benvolio" -he gestured to Grian- "whenever you're ready."

Grian cleared his throat before reading, "Good morrow, cousin," almost too loudly for Jimmy's ears.

Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, pausing for a second. "Is... is the day so... young?"

"But new struck nine," Grian recited after a moment of hesitation. He looked up at Jimmy with a half annoyed glare.

"Who is..." Jimmy squinted at the page. "Woe is me," he corrected himself, "for sad hours seem so long. Was that my father that went he- hen-"

Mr. Harding sighed, loudly and dramatically enough to make Jimmy and Grian both look up from their paper booklets. "Is this your first time in a drama club, Mr..." this time it was Mr. Harding who was squinting at his booklet, "Mr. Solidarity?"

"Yeah," Jimmy admitted, a sheepish pink tint crosses his cheeks as the students in the seats behind Mr. Harding turned and whispered to one another.

"Figures." The teacher repositioned himself in his chair. "Grian, are you a freshman?"

Grian shook his head. "No, sir."

Harding nodded. "Have you turned fourteen yet?"

Again, Grian shook his head, and again, the drama teacher nodded.

"How many years have you been doing drama?"

Grian tapped his foot as he thought. "Uh, since third grade... about five years." He quirked a brow. "Why?"