Juliet - Chapter 1

My name is Juliet Elizabeth Holiday.

You can’t imagine the horror of being born with the name Juliet in the deep countryside of Kansas. No sooner after school starts and they’d start in with “Oh Romeo, Romeo.”

As we began to go through the script of Romeo and Juliet in 5th grade… Ugh. After they’d been memorized in class, there was no end to the lines of dialogue thrown at me.

Whenever I’d say “Is that for real?,” they’d put up praying hands and say “By yonder blessed moon I swear…” And when I’d yell at them to stop making fun of my name, they’d come back with “What’s in a name? A ginger by any other name is no Juliet…” I cringe just at the thought of how I can’t win against these boys and their “Shakespeare.”

I was a tad bigger than the other boys, and I wasn’t afraid to use my bigger size. I got detention after I got into scuffles, but I didn’t care. It was all their and Mr Harrison’s fault, anyway. There’s no need to force 12 year olds to memorize Romeo and Juliet to a tee.

I know very well what kind of appearance the name Juliet conjures up. One would imagine the women in those old Actresses In Their Prime TOP 10 videos like Olivia Hussey, with her jet black hair and smooth forehead, high-nose bridge and sparkling eyes; the ones who’d drive you insane with envy just to look at!

But to compare me with Olivia Hussey is like comparing a tomato to an eggplant. We don’t look a thing alike. I mean, my hair’s so red that to introduce myself as ginger just doesn’t fly.

What kind of Juliet has red hair, anyway?

People asking “So, where’s Romeo?” with a smirk whenever they hear my name is tiring to no end. Why is that always the first thing they feel inclined to ask?

Whenever I bring it up with my dad, his answer’s always the same: “It’s likely you’re the first Juliet they’ve met.”

My father, a professor in the Department of Statistics in the University of Glenfield, said that the year I was born, the number of newborns in Kansas with the name Juliet was about one in six-thousand, and that’s a boosted number. Normal citizens of Kansas wouldn’t have met 10,000 people they know the names and faces of, so it’s likely I am the first Juliet they’ve met.

After I heard that, I decided to be a little more easygoing. My favorite Shakespeare play isn’t Romeo and Juliet, but All’s Well That Ends Well. I just want the first Juliet people meet to be a comedy, not a tragedy…

“You leave your Romeo off on his own, Juliet?”

Well, not this kind of comedy, at least.

“You know how it goes, he died from poison,” I responded to Grey Holt as he sat on the edge of a desk.

Everyone started to laugh. This guy who’d fight me to the point of punishment when we were kids is now captain of the Ravenwood football team, and too big for me to take on anymore.

“Smart aleck.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

I look up at Grey. How has he still not given up these lame Romeo quips?

“Be careful, by the way. The one most likely to die from poison like Romeo is you.”

This is one of my darker retorts, and it worked well on everyone. That is, until an actual Romeo transferred in.

“Oh my, would you look at that… Your dead Romeo’s back,” whispered Abigail in the seat next to me while Mr. Harrison introduced Romeo.

When she saw me not react, she kept on: “He’s quite the looker, too. Just like the real thing.”

Just as the name Juliet conjured an image of a smooth, peach-skinned beauty, the name Romeo conjures an image of a finely-sculpted beauty of a man. I was speechless.

This Romeo Buchannon was a spitting image of the real thing!

“Romeo spent 17 years in England. It’s his first time here, so be sure to look out for him. Would you care to come to the front of the class and introduce yourself, Romeo?”

Romeo stood calmly at the front of the class and began to introduce himself in a British accent: “Hello, I am Romeo. Nice to meet you all. I have never attended an American school, so this is a little unusual for me, but I am looking forward to getting along with all of you.”

He didn’t say anything spectacular, but the atmosphere changed, and how could it not? His manner of speech was as elegant as the lead in an old English movie, with a demeanor just as proper. It’s a type of civility you just don’t see in a backwoods school like this.

While the boys were on the verge of getting at him for being too pompous, there wasn’t a single girl who wanted to see him degenerate to the Kansas style of manliness.

“Be sure to give him help if he needs it. Anything anyone wants to ask Romeo?”

Benjamin, who sat at the front of the class, was the first to ask: “Where in England are you from? London? Oxford? Dover? Exeter??

It seems Benjamin was eager to be friends with Romeo, rattling off many of England’s cities to show himself off as a model student.

“I am from London.”

“What school? Eton College by chance?” Mary asked with the ferocity of a White House reporter. With her butt half off the chair and her upper body so forward on the desk, she looked like she was about to fall over. I steadied her chair to make sure she didn’t.

Romeo nodded with a smile, and the guys who thought the question was asked as a half joke started to whisper to each other.

“You’re really from Eton College?”

“Yes.”

“Romeo transferred here from Eton College,” cut in Mr. Harrison.

Though Mr. Harrison was always very friendly with new transfer students, there was a reason for him to be especially friendly with Romeo. Those prepping for Pennsylvania Tech can’t be compared to him, one of the very few prepping for an Ivy League school. Isn’t his resume a bit too good for your average public high school like this?

Some wanted to ask more about Eton College, but Mr. Harrison cut off any more questions for after class.

“So, who gave you such a cool name like Romeo?” asked Grey.

Why’d you have to ask that!? I covered my eyes as I stared daggers at Gray, who sat two seats to my side and one back. He put on a smile and pretended to be none the wiser.

“My grandfather gave me this name,” Romeo said with a smile.

“Rather dated for someone born in the 21st century.”

“It’s not all that strange. We have Juliet as well.”

“Juliet?”

Romeo seemed a little surprised. Andrew Gellen, who sat next to me and liked to act out, pointed: “That’s her. Ravenwood’s Juliet ‘Ginger’ Holiday.”

“Don’t go changing my middle name as you please, Andy.”

Everyone turned to me all at once. It’d be hard not to notice the obvious ginger Juliet in class. Romeo looked at me with a hint of humor on his face.

The counselor who put Romeo in this class knew exactly what they were doing, guaranteed. I don’t know who, but they must not realize that having Romeo and Juliet in the same class is asking for trouble!

I felt my cheeks turn as red as my hair. I knew we weren’t Romeo and Juliet as a couple, but I still couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Just then, Mr. Harrison said something in a joking manner.

“Good. Our very own Juliet of Ravenwood can give Romeo the tour.”

“The school tour!?” I responded sharply.

‘”That’s right.”

“Why not Ben?”

It’s standard procedure to have the class representative do things like that! I felt Benjamin Weever’s jealous gaze bore into me. He aimed for Princeton, being one of the few aiming for an Ivy League school, and he has the ability to write an essay spanning more than 20 pages for something as simple as a school tour.

Why assign someone like me when you have someone who could easily write 10 different welcome speeches?

“Would it kill you to just agree for once?” Gray snarked, as he started to put on the letterman jacket that hung from his chair.

“Shut up,” I responded under my breath.

“Quiet down, Juliet,” Mr. Harrison warned, having somehow heard.

I frowned in protest. I wasn’t trying to be a rebellious brat, but I don’t know how these adults kept picking up on my childish tendencies. I always thought I’d kept on the down low.

“Romeo has come to Kansas to meet his Juliet,” Mr. Harrison said in a dramatic voice. “I’ll not be the one to get in the way of their fated meeting.”