Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

I’m yelling at a teacher, but I’m around her more than anyone, so I know
she’ll let me off the hook like a mom who still loves you even when you fuck
up.
I grip the drafting table on both sides, drilling into her eyes with mine.
“Mercutio is the most dynamic character in the play. To be able to reimagine
him, I mean…”
And I trail off, not seeing the point in saying what I’ve said before. The
opportunity to reinvent him would be a dream come true. What the hell could
Callum Ames do other than look good in a codpiece? And even that’s
debatable.
She rolls her blueprints. “The administration won’t allow a female to play
a male’s role.”
“Why not? They spent hundreds of years playing ours.”
She gives me a look like I’m not helping, and then heads over to another
work table.
I follow. “He’s a skeptic, he’s crude, he’s hot-headed… He’s the only one
with potential for growth.”
She laughs to herself. “A skeptic…”
Yes, a skeptic. I realize that’s not fashionable in a Catholic school, but I
think she’s caught on to the fact that if it’s “in” then I’m “out.”
“Please,” I ask, a vulnerability to my tone that I hate hearing from myself.
“No,” she replies.
“I deserve this.”
“No.”
I stand there, watching her as she closes her laptop and gathers her travel
mug and bags.
I can’t play the nurse. I don’t care if my part is small. It’s not that.
But I know what I can do, and I’d put in my time. I know what I’m worth.
“Did you even ask them?” I charge.
Does the administration even know the opportunity I’d like?
She stops and looks up, straightening. The soft look in her eyes tells me
she wants to make me happy, but…
She won’t fight for me.
“No reimagined sets,” she reiterates. “No reimagined costumes. No
Mercutio.”
She leaves, and I stand there, not frozen—just too tired to move. I wish
she was telling the truth. I wish the administration really didn’t have money