Chapter 1

The dark grey clouds hung as heavily in the sky as the crowds' thick winter coats hung on their shoulders. Their black attire stood in sharp contrast to the ugly brown grass and first snows of winter that now lay in patches in the ground. All were silent just as they’d been two months before, all except one. All stood in the same place they’d stood at two months before, all except one. All shed a few tears and sought comfort in the arms of the same people they had two months before, all except one. All watched as the hole was filled and final goodbyes were said, all except one. By ones, twos, threes, and even fours, the crowd began to leave, and as they went, their thoughts all lingered on the one and on her parents.

“A tragedy,” the crowd called it. “Gone too soon,” they were. “Loved one another till death do them part,” they did.“Reunited in heaven,” they would be. “What would happen to their child?” some wondered. But these words weren’t said to the one, and even if they had, she wouldn’t have heard them nor understood them. She was too busy crying out the only word she knew, “mama.”

The crowd dwindled, and finally, the graveyard was empty. The tombstones undisturbed. Days came and went. Days turned to weeks and weeks to months before anyone returned to the grave—a lone man to see the grave he and his wife shared.

Twelve years later, one sat on her school’s stage, listening to her friend conclude her idea for a play.

“‘Then go be happy with him,’ he says, turning away from her. He walks away and shuts the door, never looking back to see her face. Fade the lights, and the curtain falls as the audience gives a standing ovation. What do you think?” Madison asks, looking at the other three girls sitting around her.

“Oh. Em. Gee, Maddy,” Sophia declares, not looking up from her phone. “That has got to be your cheesiest ending yet; I’m literally developing lactose intolerance as we speak.”

“That’s rich coming from someone raised on a dairy farm, but I was asking our two screenwriters,” she says, turning to Emma and Ruth. The two look at each other before turning back to Madison.

“It’s…not that bad….” Ruth finally manages to say as Emma looks down at her shoes. “It could use some more work, though.”

“That’s what you two are here for. Come on, just tell Mrs.Jackson it’s workable before she picks one of the other groups’ ideas or, worse, sticks us with some greek classic.”

“But I like greek tragedies,” Emma whispers.

We don't have a play. All you have is an inciting incident and conclusion. You have two pieces of bread, but what kind of sandwich is that? What’s between them?”

“Probably enough cheese to put my family's farm out of business,” Sophia snickers.

“Quiet you,” Madison commands, pushing Sophia's chair and sending her rolling across the stage.

“WeeEEeeEEee,” Sophia cheers as she spins away.

“Gosh, she’s so annoying. Why’d she have to be in our group?”

“Because all the freshmen are in our group,” Ruth replies.

“I know, it was rhetorical. Why did Mrs.Jackson split us up like this?”

“She wanted us to have a chance to use what we’ve learned this year to try making our own play.”

“Again, Ruth, rhetorical,” Madison scoffs.

“Ya know, Maddy,” Sophia says, scooting back to the group, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were completely disregarding my idea of adapting The Merchant of Venice into the modern-day.”

“I am because that idea is stupid.”

“Who decided that?”

“I did, and Emma agrees, right, Emma?” Madison says, looking at her. Emily’s cheeks grow red as she feels everyone’s eyes turn to her.

“Umm.. well… She did make a… um, good point about it being difficult to adapt Shakespear to r-rural Michigan,” she stutters.

“See, Emma says it’s too hard, so we aren’t doing it,” Madison declares.

“Oh right, because coming up with something new and original is a piece of cake,” Sophia scoffs.

“Hey, are you saying Emma and I can’t do it?” Ruth challenges.

“Nah, girl, I know you can, but like, that’s a lotta work, and I know your thing is coming up, wouldn’t wanna dump that on you,” Sophia says.

“Do you have to talk like that? You’re not a Cali girl. You’ve never been to Cali, or the west coast, or even west of the Mississippi. Stop talking like a Snapchat filter,” Madison grips.

“Why are you so mean to me today?” Sophia asks. “It’s like the tomboy picking on the girl she li-” she’s cut off as Madison again pushes her chair harder this time.

“I am NOT a tomboy! Stop calling me that!”

“You know she only calls you that because you react like that, right?” Ruth asks as Madison retakes her seat.

“And why shouldn’t I? Thinks she soo pretty because she dyes her hair and always wears skirts. I don’t like skirts; they’re not as warm as pants, especially this time of year,” Madison complains, crossing her arms and zipping up her jacket.

“Well, you may wanna get used to the idea 'cause if you don’t come to my quinceanera in a dress, you’ll have to deal with Abuela.”

“Agh, yeah, I know. My mom already dragged me by the hair to get one, don’t worry.”

“Good; I doubt she’d even let you inside if you wore a suit like at the winter formal.”

“I still say you’re crazy for wearing that knee-length dress in the middle of December. How did you not get frostbite? I was standing there in a three-piece shaking like a leaf, and here you come without so much as a goose bump.” Ruth scoffs at her question.

“Ugh, you sound like Abuela telling my dad to put his coat on. Just cause she and Pepe grew up in the dirty armpit of the south doesn’t mean we need to haul out the winter coats when it drops to 60 at night.”

“Seems that apple didn’t fall far from the tree, eyy, Ice Princess ?” Sophia jeers as she again scoots back to the group.

“Gosh, stop it with the Ice Princess,” Ruth laments. “That’s such a lame nickname. It makes me sound like a heartless vixen!”

“Lol, this coming from the same girl who turned down Mike for the winter formal,” Sophia mocks.

“That’s cause us five had already agreed to go together, and I wasn’t gonna be the only one to have a date.”

“Such dedication to her friends,” Sophia says, whipping a fake tear from her eye. “Sounds like a plotline Maddy would come up with.”

“Can we get back to that, please?” Madison demands. “Mrs. Jackson said we needed to give her our idea today, and she’ll be here any minute.”

“Always so uptight,” Sophia says under her breath. “Look, Maddy; I’ll extend an olive branch here. We can do something original, but since they’ll be screenwriting most of it, I think it’s only fair we let Ruth and Emma choose what kind of story. You can feed them ideas for your lame, cheesy romance fantasy, and I’ll give them ideas for gut busing jokes the audience will love, but they ultimately get to decide. How does that sound?” Madison ponders Sophia’s suggestion, eyeing her while she does.

“Why do I feel like this is a setup? What’s the catch?” She says after a moment.

“You’re saying that doesn’t sound fair?”

“I’m not saying that; don’t put words in my mouth,” Madison commands.

“Only thing I’m putting in your mouth are Deez nuts,” Sophia laughs, leaning back and clapping as Madison pushes her away again. “HA,” she laughs as she rolls.”GOT EMMM HAHA.”

“If she gets me with that one more time, I am GOING to slap her.”

“Open palm, just as painful but doesn't leave as much of a mark for parents to find. That’s how my brothers do it,” Ruth explains.

“Does that really work?” Madison asks.

“Well enough to keep mom and Abuela off their back. Just make sure I don't see it,” Ruth warns. “If I’m not a witness, it’s not my problem.”

“Giving her pointers! What are you, a domestic violence enabler?” Sophia, upon her return.

“Better domestic than imported,” Madison quips.

“Just don't do it in front of the kids. I don’t want them to see you like this,” Sophia says dramatically. “But in all seriousness, what do you think of my suggestion?”

“It sounds pretty fair to me,” Ruth says, “but I’d hate it if Madison thought she was getting a raw deal.” Everyone looks at Madison, and she lets out a hesitant breath.

“I’m not against it, but to make sure our ideas are heard, we’d need to iron out a few details.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Ruth agrees. “How abou-” she’s cut off as the auditorium door suddenly bursts open.

The four girls turn to look and see Rebecca bursting through the doors, her eyes immediately fixating on Ruth.

“Ruth, do you ever look at your phone? We’ve been waiting for you for 10 minutes, and you know how much Abuela hates waiting!.” A look of terror strikes Ruth’s face as she fumbles for her phone. Four missed calls from Mom, three from Abuela, one from Rebecca, and 32 unread messages. I forgot to take it off silent!

“Oh, she’s gonna murder me!” Ruth says as she grabs her bag and rushes down the stage stairs.

“Hey, wait! you can’t leave yet! We still haven’t figured out how we’re doing this!” Madison calls as Ruth rushes down the aisles.

“I’ll agree with whatever Emma says,” she declares as she hurries out the doors. Emma drops her glasses after hearing this. Her face turners white with shock as Madison and Sophia slowly turn towards each other and red as they look towards her.

“Are you sure leaving her with those two was alright?” Rebecca asks as she and Ruth race through the halls.

“Oh, you make it sound like I left her to the wolves. She’s gonna be screenwriting the play too, so she should have some input on how we do it.”

“Gosh, you really are an Ice Princess,” Rebecca mocks, giggling.

“I’m not an Ice Princess! Stop calling me that!” Ruth laments as she turns a corner and narrowly avoids running into Mrs.Jackson.

“Whoa, girls, where’s the fire?” she asks, balancing her coffee mug.

“Sorry, Mrs. J, this one forgot she has a fitting appointment today,” Rebeca says, pointing at Ruth.

“Our Ruth forgot something? Never!”She exaggerates. “She didn’t forget the drama club meeting, too, did she?”

“No, I just came from that,” Ruth protests.

“Oh, then I guess you all decided on what kind of play you’ll be doing then, right?”

“I said I’d agree with whatever Emma chooses.”

“You left her to decide between Madison and Sophia? That’s kinda cold, Ice Princess .”

“Why is everyone on that? Who even came up with it? Was it you?” Ruth laments, looking at Rebeca.

“No, now come on, Abuela’s still waiting for you.”

“Ohh, keeping Abuela waiting. Not a good choice. I remember we were late to start the last PTA meeting she attended. Not a good time. If you girls are gonna run through the halls, at least be careful around the corners.”

“We will,” the two girls call as they head to the doors again.