Dreaming of Antigone (20 page)

Honest, nuanced, and bittersweet,
The Form of Things Unknown
explores the shadows that haunt even the truest hearts . . . and the sparks that set them free.

 

—Theseus,
A Midsummer Night's Dream,
act 5, scene 1

CHAPTER 1

The course of true love never did run smooth.
—
A Midsummer Night's Dream,
act 1, scene 1

 

 

 

 

My grandmother is listening to the Beatles again. Loudly. She refuses to use earbuds because she says bugs can crawl out of the tiny speakers and into your brain that way. John Lennon's voice travels up the stairs and under the doors and through the thin walls of this smelly old house. Lennon's lyrics reach me all the way up here in the attic, where my parents have cleared a space for my mattress and a small bookshelf for my sketch pads.
Your castle in the sky,
my mother joked.
I'm the madwoman in the attic,
I joked back.

Mom didn't laugh.

Grandma particularly loves “Strawberry Fields.” She says the angels talk to her through this song. And I worry that the longer I lie here and listen, I'm going to hear the angels talking to me too.

My brother doesn't think I'm crazy. At least he doesn't treat me like a crazy person, and I'm grateful for that. Ever since I was discharged from Winter Oaks, rated the best adolescent psych unit in eastern Georgia, Mom and Dad have hovered over me, watching me like a ticking time bomb.

They make sure I take my pills, and ask me a million times a day if I'm feeling all right. How should I feel? I'm curled up in my bed under my quilt, even though the attic is hot and stuffy, and I wonder if I can even describe the sensations I'm feeling. I can't call them emotions. At least not right now. There are only a million thoughts. Emotionless thoughts buzzing around my head like insects.

Thankfully, my parents now have Grandma to worry about. Maybe they'll forget to worry about me. Until I do something terrible. Something crazy.

“Hey, Hippie.” David tromps up the stairs and knocks on the door as he's pushing it open.

“What's up, Hick?” I don't bother to raise my head from the pillow.

He plops himself down next to me. Grandma's ancient calico cat has been cuddled up against me all morning. Now she hisses at David and jumps down. “Nat, I need a favor.”

“From
moi?
I have no money.”

I've been meaning to look for a summer job, but Dad hasn't pushed the issue, so I really haven't looked that hard.

My brother picks up the nearest stuffed animal, the phallic-looking naked mole rat from
Kim Possible,
and starts tossing it up in the air, catching it like a football. “Do you know anything about the theater workshop they're doing this summer downtown?”

I try to grab Rufus away from him, but David keeps the naked mole rat out of my reach. “Um, I think they're doing
A Midsummer Night's Dream
.”

“I was thinking about trying out. Want to come with me?”

I stare at my brother, with his backward baseball cap. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm just looking for something to do this summer. I figured you knew all about that hippie drama stuff, so . . .” I think he is actually blushing.

Now I sit straight up as I continue to stare him down. “Since when were you into hippie drama stuff?” My brother is not really a hick. Far from it, actually. But he dresses like one and drives a monster truck that I tease him about mercilessly.

“All right,” he says, setting the naked mole rat down. “You know Colton, who works at the Pirate House?”

My jaw drops. “You've got to be kidding. You two are like night and day! He's, like, a goth queen!”

David has been trying to get me out of the house this summer, dragging me to his favorite coffeehouse in the city. I know I should be grateful to have a big brother who isn't afraid to let his little sister tag along with him, and I do like to sit and people watch at the coffeehouse. And the café is next door to a wonderfully seedy-looking comic book store. One day I'm going to get up the nerve to go in there.

“He sat in front of me in Composition last semester,” David says. “He'd draw these funny little pictures on my notebooks.”

“Is that why you failed that course? Are you saying it was the Queen of the Night's fault?” David just barely squeaked by his freshman year at the Savannah College of Art and Design, affectionately known as SCAD. My brother is majoring in architecture.

“No, but that's why I need your help. My English professor is directing the play. She'll kick me out of the theater for sure unless you come to tryouts with me.”

“Me? Just because you got a bad grade in Comp One doesn't mean she won't let you work on the play. Besides, why would I want to go to play tryouts? I'm the antisocial one, remember?”

“Because you love your brother more than anyone else in the world.” David sighs and fidgets with his cap. “I need you to come with me so I won't look like a theater dork. I'll just be there for my little hippie sister who can't drive yet.”

He ducks as I throw Rufus at his head. “It's not like you have anything else to do this summer besides hide from the sun and sew weird clothes. Here's your chance to wear weird clothes on stage. If you don't want to try out for a part, maybe you could just work on costumes.”

“Ooh, fairy dresses.” I could have fun with this. Possibly. Except I really can't sew that well yet.

“And you don't want me to tell Dad about you climbing out your window and sneaking off to that bonfire with your weird friends.”

I sit straight up in my bed. “How do you know about that? You weren't even in Athens at the time.” If I hadn't snuck out that night with Caleb, I probably wouldn't have ended up in Winter Oaks.

David rolls his eyes. “I'm the big brother. I know more about sneaking out than you. So, are you coming?”

He does not know everything about my bonfire story. If he did, he'd know what Caleb did that night, and David wouldn't ask me to help set him up with anyone like Colton. Straight or otherwise, bad boys really can be bad for you.

Still, the theater workshop sounds interesting. And even though I've never been in a play before, I do love Shakespeare. Even madwomen have to leave their attics sometimes.

“When are tryouts?” I finally ask.

My brother grins. He knows he's got me. “Tomorrow at three.”

“Tomorrow?” What am I going to wear? My stomach starts hurting already.

“You'll do great, I know it.” David pats me on the knee, then jumps up before I can hit him with the naked mole rat again.

I flop back on my bed, listening to him stomp down the stairs and out the door, back to his dorm. I missed him so much when he left for college last year, and we still lived in Athens. But Mom and Dad and I had to move to Savannah last month to be here with Grandma after Grandpa died. She refuses to take her psych meds anymore, and before Grandpa was even buried, the cops had already called Dad, when they found Grandma trying to set the house on fire.

She claims she was cold and thought she was lighting the fireplace. Why she thought she needed a fire in the middle of May, I can't understand. It's extra hot up here in the attic, and even though Dad promises to get me a small window-unit air conditioner, it's not on the top of his list of priorities right now.

My parents are under way too much stress this summer. Dealing with Grandpa's death, and Grandma's craziness, and all of this happening right after my misadventure.

I pull my damp hair off the back of my neck and stare up at the ceiling. George Harrison is singing now. A slow, sad song about his weeping guitar. Grandma prefers the later Beatles albums to their earlier work. The long-haired hippie years. Dad is constantly throwing away her incense so she won't set the house on fire again.

I know it's too hot up here to light any incense, but it would certainly help to disguise the cat litter smell that permeates the whole house.

No, I can't hide up here in this attic all summer long. I have to get out and do something. If I have to try out for a play in front of a bunch of strangers, that's okay. David will be there. And maybe I can help him win the love of his life.

CHAPTER 2

The old Savannah Theater is in one of the revitalized areas of downtown. Built back in the eighteen hundreds, according to Mrs. Green, it was closed for almost fifty years until a community arts group begged some money from local businesses and got some state grants last year. The dragon lady, as David calls her, introduces herself and welcomes us to the Savannah Theater Summer Workshop. She is a tiny woman, dressed in a dark purple sundress, with short spiky silvery hair. She gestures grandly with elegant long arms as she tells us about the historical theater.

Mrs. Green is particularly proud of the new lighting system they installed in March. What they need next, I think, as I look around the dingy theater, are some new stage curtains. The burgundy velvet drapes are looking pretty grim.

Still, I love the ornate molding that decorates the walls and frames the stage. I can imagine this was a beautiful place back in its day. I glance around at the various clusters of kids sitting in the rows of seats. A group of little girls sit in the very front, chatting and flipping their ponytails back and forth. Their leader blows bubbles with her gum and looks very bored.

Up on the stage, a group of silly boys are practicing stage falls. Not that anyone would need to be doing stage falls in
A Midsummer Night's Dream
. A pretty brunette is laughing at them and practicing her English accent. “I say! Thou art too funny, y'all!”

Over by the little girls, I notice a baseball cap. Someone is wearing a baseball cap INSIDE THE THEATER. And Mrs. Green is saying nothing about it. Even David has taken off his cap. The boy sits reading, oblivious to everything going on around him. And I realize I know Baseball Cap Boy. It's Lucas . . . Something. Crap, did I know he lived in Savannah? I can't remember.

Lucas was a patient at Winter Oaks while I was there. We had a few group circles together. He's quiet and, from what I remember, a preacher's son. Lucas Grant. He was battling depression. And . . . a suicide attempt, I think.

“Hippie,” David says, pinching my arm. “Let's sit over there.” He nods toward the middle of the auditorium, where Colton and two girls are sitting. One of them has long black hair streaked with deep blue. She is intimidatingly beautiful. She glances up at us when Colton waves, and looks right back down at her phone.

I wave to the other girl, recognizing her from the counter at the Pirate House. Her pale blond hair has purple streaks. Starla smiles and waves back at me. Good. I won't be too scared to sit with this group.

I miss my friends in Athens terribly. But I don't miss Caleb. And I don't think I could go back to high school there, where everyone knows what happened to me. So in a way, I'm kind of glad Grandma had her psychotic episode and we had to move to Savannah. Thank you, Grandma.

From the other side of the aisle, Lucas glances my way, frowns, and turns back to his book.

Fine. I can pretend I don't know you either, Ass Hat.

“David!” Colton squeals. “What's up, baby?” We drop into the seats right behind them.

To his credit, my brother doesn't bat an eyelash. “I had no idea you guys would be here. This is great.”

To my credit, I don't snort at this blatant lie. At least, I try not to. Blue-hair Girl looks at me as I try to choke back a giggle. “Are you David's sister?” she asks. “Are you trying out for the play? I think you'd make a great fairy queen. Your hair is gorgeous.”

I can't help but blush. I've always hated my red curls. They never behave like I want them to, no matter what beauty products I buy or which salon I go to. I have hopeless hair. Not gorgeous hair.

“Raine, this is Natalie,” Starla says, introducing us. I give her a grateful smile. “She's right, Nat. You could be Titania!”

I think I blush again. “I don't know if I could handle a big part like that. I'm really more interested in working on the costumes.”

Starla rolls her eyes. “You're too nice, honey. If you want to be an actress, you're going to have to be much more aggressive.”

Do I want to be an actress? I haven't given it much thought beyond this summer play thing. Starla seems dead serious in her ambition. She is looking up at the ceiling, inspecting the new lighting system. “My pale skin tends to look better under warm-colored gels. I hope they don't use the blue lights on me.”

“You just need to get out into the sun more,” Raine says. She is inspecting the ceiling too. A plaster medallion decorated with frolicking cherubs floats precariously above our heads. “I heard this theater is haunted,” she says. “I wonder if we'll see any ghosts.”

Before I can ask what she means by this, Mrs. Green walks onto the stage with a clipboard and makes some announcements about the summer production. “Cell phones off, children. For the first group, let's get Colton Barnes, Starla Hayes, and Natalie Roman up here,” Mrs. Green says. “Let's see what you've got, people. Start on page five. And remember to speak loudly and clearly!”

But wait, I didn't put my name down for the auditions. Did I? I open my mouth to protest, to say that's not why I'm here. But I'm paralyzed.

David pats me on the knee. “Just go ahead and try it. You'll do great.”

Starla smiles at me as she stands up, but it's not a friendly smile. “We're up!”

I don't want to disappoint anyone. I don't smile back as I stand up. I'm too nervous.

I pray my stomach will unknot itself by the time I walk to the front of the auditorium. I pray that I won't do anything stupid, like trip up the stairs.

I haven't been on a stage since kindergarten, when our class performed
The Food Pyramid
. (I was the celery.) The stage lights aren't on, so I can see everyone's faces in the audience. David sticks his tongue out at me.

I tell myself, this is Shakespeare. You love old poetry. You can do this. And if not, what's the worst that can happen? No one will die, right?

Of course not, Nat.

And I do okay. Not that I think it's an Academy Award–winning performance, but I make it through my lines without stumbling and without Mrs. Green having to yell “Louder!” more than once. I even glance up from the script once or twice to look at Starla while I'm reading and gesture with my hand. I hope I get bonus points for the gesturing.

Starla gets points docked for not spitting her gum out.

Colton grins at me flirtatiously. He is a beautiful boy with short black hair and black as night eyes, rimmed with just a hint of eyeliner. He reads well, too, with a wicked English accent.

“Good job, people,” Mrs. Green says. “Next up, let me see Ferris and Raine.” Raine smiles nervously at me as I pass her in the aisle. “Y'all did great!” she whispers.

“Thanks, good luck!” I tell her as I sit back down next to my brother. I'm so glad it's over.

“You did great, Colton,” he says, ignoring me.

David reads next, with a few of the little girls I saw hanging out near Lucas. The little divas can act rings around my brother, but he does okay. He sits down on the end of the row next to me, as Mrs. Green calls the next group up.

“Would someone be a dear and go get me a Coke?” Colton pulls a dollar out of his wallet and waves it in the air. “My throat is so dry now.”

“Sure,” my brother says, hopping up. “Put your money away. I got it.”

“My throat's dry too,” I say.

David looks at me and rolls his eyes. “All right. Be right back.”

Starla giggles at me when he leaves. “Your brother's cute.”

Colton is watching David's . . . ass? Even though he doesn't say anything, I think that's a good sign.

I don't know if I should tell Starla that she's not David's type. “Yeah? I suppose.” My brother would make a wonderful gypsy, with his long red curls that he usually keeps pulled back under a Braves cap. He has only the tiniest hint of a goatee. So not the image of your average truck-driving hick. He broke so many girls' hearts in high school.

A cold draft blows through the theater, as if the air-conditioning has just kicked on.

“Hey,” David says, handing us our Cokes. I would have preferred a Dr. Pepper, but I keep quiet.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Colton says. I hope he really does like my brother. I would hate to think I was doing all this for no reason.

David and Colton begin chatting like long-lost friends, and since Raine and Starla have their heads together plotting to take over the world for all I know, I try to watch what's going on up on the stage. But my mind must be bored.

It starts working in overdrive.

Those kids up on stage are really good. I don't think my audition was that strong, after all. The girl with the black ponytail uses an English accent and seems to be perfectly comfortable with iambic pentameter. The guy reading for Bottom actually juggles.

I can't compete with a juggler.

And I'm nowhere near as cute as the little five-year-olds. Maybe I should have worn fairy wings today.

I let out a breath and see Raine and Starla glance back at me.

They're whispering about my sucktastic audition.

My heart starts getting wound up, and my hands begin to sweat. Oh no. I'm overcome with a sudden sense of impending doom and must escape. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I think I know I'm having a panic attack, but the rest of my brain is in FLEE FOR YOUR LIFE mode. I stand up, grabbing David by the shoulder.

“Be back in a minute,” I mutter, before climbing out into the aisle.

“'K.” He doesn't even look up at me. He doesn't care anymore. He probably wants me to leave him and Colton alone anyway.

I try not to stumble as I walk up the aisle toward the exit. Everyone is watching me, I can feel their stares on me. Ugh.

I open the doors as quietly as possible, but light from the foyer still floods the darkened auditorium. Draw even more attention to yourself, Nat.

The women's bathroom off the foyer has a sign on the door: U
NDER
C
ONSTRUCTION
, P
ARDON
O
UR
M
ESS
! I'm not about to use the men's room, so I head toward the backstage area, hunting for the dressing rooms.

It's quiet back here. All the lights are off, so I move slowly with my phone out for a little bit of light.

It's actually too quiet. My ears begin to buzz. I feel relief when I see the women's dressing room door and push it open, making a slight squeak.

There are several toilet stalls and even two shower stalls back here. Good to know, I guess. I'm not in any hurry to get back to that crowd, but I would hate for David to say something smart ass about me falling in.

I head back through the dark backstage area and see the back row of curtains move. The area grows chilly around me, and in the dim light I think I see a person standing there, looking at me.

I don't know if it's someone auditioning or someone working here at the theater. “Sorry!” I say. “Just had to use the bathroom!”

The person doesn't say anything, and I hurry past, anxious now to be back in my seat next to my brother.

I turn around just as I open the door to the hallway, but the person in the shadows is gone.

 

At the end of tryouts, Mrs. Green announces that she'll be making final decisions within the next two days. Practice will be from five to eight, Monday through Friday, with set work days on the weekends. The performance will be in four weeks.

I feel a nervous little jiggle in my stomach. What am I doing here? Performances? In front of people? I lean over and whisper to David, “Maybe this isn't such a hot idea.” I could be spending my summer at the beach instead of stuck in this moldy old theater.

“Don't give up now, or I'll have to tell Mom and Dad about the bonfire with Caleb.”

I hate my brother.

As we stand up to leave, I tug on David's arm. “Look up there on the stage. Do you see the curtains moving? There was someone back there when I went looking for the bathroom.”

“Where?” David asks.

“The curtains in the back. See how they're swaying?”

David takes a look onstage and frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“You don't see the curtains moving up there?”

He stares at the stage again. Then looks back at me. “Oh, Nat.” My brother sighs heavily, and glances around to see if anyone else is nearby, listening. “Not again.”