Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

I hurry down the aisle of the school’s theater and push through the door. I
dump my backpack against the wall, my blue-and-black plaid skirt brushing
against my thighs as I break into a jog.
Jeremy Boxer and Adam Sorretti carry armfuls of wood and fabric, and a
couple gallons of paint dangle from their fingers as I push past them and
make for the cast list that I already see hanging on the bulletin board.
My heart races. Come on. The last eight hours of school, practice, and
waiting were torture, but I’ll be high as a kite for the rest of my life if one
thing goes my way in the next two seconds.
I press my palm to the board to stop myself as I move my index finger
down the list, not looking for my name first.
I stop, seeing Mercutio, and slide right, hoping but already knowing
before I even see it.
Callum Ames.
I drop my arm, fighting the urge to cry as I stare at the roster and exhale
hard. I trace the line from Mercutio to Callum three more times with just my
eyes to make sure before it even occurs to me to scan the sheet for my name
to see if I was cast in anything at all, despite losing the role I wanted.
And there I am. Nurse……………….Olivia Jaeger.
I shake my head and turn away, holding back only a moment. Fuck you. I
shoot off, my disappointment morphing into anger that I know won’t do me
any good, but I’m not letting her off the hook this time. I throw open Ms.
Lambert’s office door, finding it empty, and then stalk farther down the hall,
stepping backstage and see her leaning over a drafting table, sifting through
designs.
I move around the table, standing opposite her. “Four years,” I bite out,
picking up at exactly where we left off the last time the theater director and I
had this conversation.
She looks up at me, her short brown hair tucked behind her ears.
I continue. “Nearly four years of set designs and sewing costumes and
completing whatever other menial task you asked of me,” I tell her. “I’ve
spent more time here than I have with my family.”
“You got a part.”
“The nurse?” I practically spit out.
“You didn’t want Juliet.”
“Romeo wouldn’t have wanted Juliet if he’d spent more than one dance
with her before marrying her!”