Later I called out to Tub in the hall but was drowned out by a throng of cheerleaders shilling for Steve Smackers. Principal Cole had purchased a warehouse full of these cheap noisemakers two years before to offset a deficit in the sports budget (plans for that new jumbotron might have had something to do with it). Constructed from hard foam and painted in Saint B. red and white, each set was made up of two paddles that made a deafening noise when slapped together. They were beyond irritating, and local football fans took to them like monkeys to poop. With Steve’s rise as a star, they had been dubbed “Steve Smackers”—pretty savvy marketing for pieces of crap that went for fifteen bucks a pop.

It was almost by accident that I found myself at play practice after school. I had meant to rush home to check on Blinky when my eyes fell upon a series of Shakespeare on the Fifty-Yard Line posters that led me to the auditorium, the only place unplagued by Steve Smackers. Mrs. Leach was holding court before the gaggle of actors, carrying on about what an insane tradition this was, and how no one could expect halfway decent Shakespeare with only a week of rehearsal. The kids all stared at her in alarm—what, exactly, had they signed up for?—until she wore herself out, clapped her hands, and said that we’d begin with act 1, scene 1, though we’d skip the intro, since both our Sampson and Gregory were absent.

Nobody but me found that ominous.

The first big event was the duel between Benvolio and Tybalt. Benvolio, played by a flamboyant theater guy named Jasper, and Tybalt, played by a heavy-metal kid named Frank, made for pretty believable foes until the fencing foils were drawn. Jasper, having been in a dozen productions, improvised each thrust and parry with comical exaggeration, while Frank, in his first role, whipped his foil around like he was swatting flies, losing it more than once in the front row of seats.

Mrs. Leach shouted instructions to make the fight simpler, shorter, and less hazardous for the audience. Still, Benvolio and Tybalt continued to lose control of their foils and land on their asses, and each time they fell our over-eager Lord Capulet shouted his big line: “What noise is this? Give me my long-sword, ho!”

Kids were snickering. Mrs. Leach was in despair. Both fighters were bruised and winded. Something had to be done.