Crushing on a Capulet Read Free Page B

including two older men who looked as if they had just woken up.
    â€œMontague is the cause of this fight—where is he?” shouted one of the old men, pulling his shirt on with one hand and flashing his sword with the other.
    â€œYou old Capulet! I’ll fight you right here!” growled a second old guy, dragging his own sword behind him.
    â€œWhoa, get the respirators!” said Frankie, barely stifling a chuckle. “These two guys couldn’t fight their way out of a tissue box!”
    Just as the two geezers were set to go at it, a horn sounded. Everyone in the square froze as if they were playing freeze tag.
    We heard the thundering of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, and an instant later, a guy dressed in a long shiny cape came riding into the street. He was followed by a bunch of soldiers with extra-big weapons.
    â€œWho do you suppose he is?” I whispered.
    â€œThat is the Prince of Verona,” Benvolio whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Now, we are in trouble.”
    The prince jumped down from his horse and stared at the two old men. “Montague and Capulet!” he boomed. “Rebellious subjects! Enemies to the peace!”
    The two old dudes hung their heads.
    â€œThree times your warring families have disturbed the quiet of our streets!” the prince said.
    â€œSo, they’ve been at it for a while?” said Frankie.
    â€œFor years,” whispered Benvolio.
    â€œKnow this!” the prince said. “If ever you disrupt our streets again, your lives shall pay the price. On pain of death, all men depart!”
    Then he snapped his fingers, and his huge guards, who toted bigger swords than everyone else, separated the Montagues and the Capulets and made everyone leave the square.
    â€œWhere to now?” I whispered to Frankie as we blended into the crowd. “If this is like most stories, the people in the title are the main characters. Well, so far, we’ve seen Benvolio, Tybalt, old man Montague and similar old man Capulet, plus the prince, but no Romeo —”
    â€œYou there, you there—did you say Romeo?”
    We turned to see old Mr. and Mrs. Montague hobbling over to us.
    â€œI am Romeo’s mother,” the woman said. “Saw you him today?”
    Frankie had the book open. She looked up and shrugged. “Um, we aren’t exactly sure,” she said. “What does he look like—”
    Benvolio gave a little smile. “So early walking did I see your son. Towards him I made, but he stole into the wood.”
    The prince’s guards finished herding all the Montague people into a side street off the square, then left.
    â€œBenvolio,” said Mr. Montague, putting his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “As his friend, can you find our Romeo, and discover what is bothering him?”
    â€œAnd can we come with you?” I asked.
    Benvolio smiled. “Certainly. I will find him—”
    Suddenly, there was a deep sighing sound, coming from around the next corner. “Oh, woe! Ay me!”
    Benvolio chuckled. “Ha! I’d know that sigh anywhere. It’s our very own Romeo. Step aside, my dear Lord and Lady Montague. My friends and I will discover what ails him.”
    I turned to Frankie. “Did you hear that? We’re Benvolio’s friends!”
    â€œI heard,” said Frankie, tucking the book into a pocket in her dress. “I think we have to pay attention. This play moves fast.”
    As Mr. and Mrs. Montague slipped away down the passage, we hustled around the corner after Benvolio.
    There we saw a young man zigzagging down the street as if he didn’t know where he was. He wore the usual stylish tights-and-tunic outfit, had brown hair, which badly needed a comb, and was sighing all over the place, practically fogging up the air. “Oh … oh!”
    â€œThat’s Romeo?” said Frankie, her eyes going slightly buggy. “Oh,