Crushing on a Capulet Read Free Page A

said, my head draped in something pink and silky. “I’m not following what’s going on too well—”
    â€œSort of like in class, huh?”
    â€œSort of,” I admitted. “But I’m thinking maybe these Montague and Capulet guys are sort of like enemies.”
    â€œYou think?”
    â€œIf I have to,” I said. “And I think they’re having a whopper of a family feud. With us in the middle.”
    â€œNot a good position to be in,” she said as one of the Capulets fell back onto the cart, rolled off, thudded to the ground, jumped up, and leaped back into the fight.
    â€œLook, Dev,” she said, “I know you’re not going to like it, but maybe the only way to stay alive here is to blend in. You know … get into costume?”
    â€œHa!” I blurted out, still with the silky thing on my melon. “Frankie, I can tell you right now. There is no way I am going to wear tights! I don’t do dress up—”
    Clang! One of the guys slammed his sword down on the cart and nearly sliced it—and us—in two.
    â€œOkay, okay!” I cried. “I think I get the point— his point. But, if you tell anyone—ANYONE!—that I wore tights in this story, I will personally go on the PA and tell everyone that you still sleep with your teddy bear!”
    â€œI sleep with two teddy bears, and it’s a deal!” she said, tossing me a tunic—it was blue with a gray collar and silver buttons. I pulled it on over my Shakespeare T-shirt, then fished around in the tangle of costumes and found the pair of—ugh!—blue tights. I tugged them up my legs.
    They felt soooo weird, I can’t even describe it.
    But, hey, at least they matched my top.
    Frankie’s outfit was a way-too-long purple gown with a funny headdress thingy that looked like a tangled butterfly net with tiny pillows on each side.
    â€œI feel like a princess,” she said.
    Fwish! One of the men swung his sword all around and nearly sliced both pillows off Frankie’s hat.
    With blades clanging and swishing all around us, we crawled out from under the cart just in time to see yet another bunch of guys jumping into the fight.
    â€œPull yourselves apart, you fools, there are children here!” shouted one of the new guys, leaping into the scuffle, and moving us gently out of the way. He had a friendly face and a nice green tunic with gold buttons. “Put up your swords. You know not what you—”
    Unfortunately, another man rushed up and tried to stop him from stopping the fight. I didn’t like the look of this new character. First of all, he wore a black outfit, which meant he was probably nasty. Plus, he had slicked-back hair, which meant he was mean. If that wasn’t enough, his eyes were close together and slitty, and he carried a sword with a jeweled handle.
    All in all, he gave Frankie and me the shivers.
    â€œSo! Benvolio!” the slick-hair guy sneered at our nice green-suit guy. “Draw your sword and fight me.”
    â€œNo, Tybalt,” Benvolio said. “I seek to keep the peace. Put up thy Capulet sword, or use it to help me part these fighting men—”
    â€œPeace?” snarled Tybalt. “I hate the word. As I hate all Montagues, and thee. Draw thy sword, coward!”
    The argument was filled with thees and thys, but I sort of understood them.
    â€œHey, Frankie,” I said. “It’s almost as if this Shakespeare guy really is writing English! Old-style English, maybe, but I’m getting most of it.”
    â€œI’m getting it, too,” she said. “Maybe because we’re wearing costumes. We’re sort of part of the play now.”
    â€œAnd if we have to choose sides,” I said, “I like Benvolio.”
    â€œHe seems like a good guy,” she said.
    Well, the clanging and clashing noise of the fight was so loud that it brought even more people into the square,