FIRSTS Stories: The Boys Tell All

Joaquin Rhodes

You know that famous scene in Romeo and Juliet, where Juliet's on the balcony and Romeo's on the ground, making a big dramatic proclamation of his love? Yeah, that scene, the one they made us all read in school, and probably out loud during class. For me, I'm intimately acquainted with that scene. Well, the whole play, really. Last year, when I was a junior, I got cast as Romeo in the school play. (Finally, I beat out that cocky bastard Rafe Lawrence for a lead role.) I took it very seriously. Ran though my lines before school, after school, between classes, even during dinner, which drove my parents insane. (I even refused a couple of meals, because I was supposed to be lovesick—what can I say, I'm a bit of a method man.)

Back to that iconic scene. I think that's how I caught my girlfriend's attention. I like to think she fell in love with me while I was on my knees in front of that balcony. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. She was cast as Juliet and was staring down at me with long flowing hair and a long flowing gown and aw, how sweet, so romantic.

You'd be wrong. She was part of the props crew and wore the kind of clothes that got her sent home and has rainbow-colored hair, swears like a trucker, and smokes like a chimney. Summer Carpenter, the girl who claims she never even read the play and only got roped into props crew because her friends signed her up as a joke. She thinks Romeo and Juliet is a brand of cigars.

But yeah, that balcony scene? She's kind of re-enacting it right now. Except she's the one on the ground—wait, now she's climbing a tree, dear God—and I'm in the window, and even from up here I can tell she's completely plastered.

"Please, get down from there," I half-whisper, half-yell, cupping my hands around my mouth. Yes, it's possible to half-whisper, half-yell. We do all kinds of voices onstage. This particular voice comes in handy when your girlfriend may be insane and your parents are asleep down the hall.

"You're the one who's always telling me to be romantic and spontaneous," she yells. Unlike me, Summer only has one voice, and it's loud. She's a surprisingly fast climber, considering she's wasted and the tree is ginormous. She's high enough now that if she falls, she might break something, so I shut up and wait for her to make it to the branch that extends right outside my window. When she's within reaching distance, I stretch out my arm to help pull her onto the windowsill. The last thing I need is a broken leg on my conscience. Break a leg! It's always what people say before you go on stage. It's a stupid expression.

"Are you crazy?" I hiss, my heart pounding.

"You're always saying I'm not romantic," she says, straddling the windowsill. "What were your words? I'm not your 'typical movie heroine.'" She puts her fingers in exaggerated air quotes and gives me a lopsided smile. Her eye makeup is all smudged and her face is shiny and her hair is stuck to her forehead.

"You're drunk," I say. I want to add, and you're right—most movie heroines are noble and sweet and maybe have a secret or two, but aren't usually wasted at two in the morning on a school night.

"Yeah," she says, swinging both legs inside and standing up, wobbling slightly. "I'm drunk. Mack and I got shitfaced in her parents' basement and it made me think of you."

"Getting shitfaced made me you think of me?" I say. I'm not sure if it's a compliment or an insult, so I don't say anything else.

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up. Stop talking. You're Mr. Actor, Mr. Film Buff." She half-laughs, half-hiccups. "I just pulled some Dawson's Creek shit climbing in your window. And this is the part where you get laid."

She's on me before I have a chance to protest, or to tell her that in Dawson's Creek, the whole window thing had been happening since they were kids, so it's not really like that. She's all forceful, pushing me backward onto my bed and hopping on top of me. She plants a bunch of sloppy kisses all over me. On my cheeks and neck and chest, and maybe that sounds awesome in theory, but all I can think is that her breath smells like beer and she's drunk and this is the part where any good director would yell "CUT!" and ask for a retake.