Crushing on a Capulet Read Online Free PDF Page A

thinking—”
    â€œNo, no,” said Romeo.
    â€œToo bad. It would be fun—”
    â€œI’m done thinking!” said Romeo. “We shall go. You and Frankie and Devin and me. And you shall all see just how wonderful and sweet my fair Rosaline is!”
    Frankie winked at me. “Or, just maybe you’ll meet someone even more beautiful than Rosaline.…”
    Romeo laughed. “That can never be! The all-seeing sun ne’er saw her match since the world begun—”
    â€œEnough!” said Benvolio, sticking his fingers in his ears.
    Still laughing, Romeo turned. “I’ll go to this party and rejoice in the splendor of my Rosaline!”
    With that, he raced away into a side street, up an alley, and was gone, his pal Benvolio reluctantly chasing at his heels.
    Frankie smiled. “Are we matchmakers or are we matchmakers?”
    â€œWe are matchmakers!” I said, slapping her five.
    â€œI’m feeling pretty good right about now.”
    But someone else wasn’t feeling so good.
    â€œNurse!” someone cried out. “Nurse! Help! Nurse!”
    The shouting came from the Capulet house.
    Frankie gasped. “What if it’s Juliet? What if she’s sick?”
    â€œShe can’t be sick,” I said, “or all our matchmaking plans have been for nothing. We’d better flip ahead—”
    â€œWhoa, Devin—”
    There was a reason Frankie didn’t want me to flip ahead. Flipping was dangerous. It could cause a sudden story meltdown. It was like skipping pages in a book.
    And that’s against the rules.
    But sometimes you gotta bend the rules a little.
    â€œNurse!” came another cry.
    â€œI’m doing it!” I said.
    â€œOkay, but just one page!” said Frankie. “Do it!”
    I did it.
    Flip.
    Kkkkk!
    Lightning flashed across the sky.

Chapter 5
    Kkkk! Everything went dark, then light, then Frankie and I went crashing into the next scene.
    We tumbled out onto a tile floor, twisting up my tights and upsetting the pillow arrangement of Frankie’s weirdo headgear.
    We looked up. It was obviously a girl’s bedroom, all pink and frilly, with a balcony overlooking the garden.
    But it wasn’t Juliet doing the yelling. It was Mrs. Capulet, storming back and forth, booming at the top of her lungs, “Nurse!”
    â€œWhat’s the problem, Mrs. C?” said Frankie. “You don’t look like you need a nurse, but maybe you’d better lie down—”
    The woman gave us the old “you sillyhead” look. “Take your hands off me. Nothing is wrong with me. I was calling for the nurse.”
    Frankie frowned at her. Then her eyes lit up. “Wait a sec. By nurse, do you mean like a nanny?”
    â€œExactly,” said Mrs. Capulet. And she started up again. “Nurse! Nurse, please come in here—”
    â€œYes, ma’am!” called a voice, and in hustled a middle-aged woman, all disheveled and rumpled. Her face was plump and red as she swept breathlessly into the room.
    She bowed to Mrs. Capulet, wiped her hands on her apron, and said, “Yes, my lady? What is it?”
    â€œFind my daughter,” Mrs. Capulet said.
    â€œYour daughter. Of course, my lady,” said the nurse. “Oh, but I remember when the child was just a toddler—toddling around the room, she was. Since that time it has been years—oh, I remember a year once—”
    â€œSpare me!” said Mrs. Capulet. “Just find her!”
    â€œYes, ma’am.” The nurse bowed, hustled out of the room, made some noise, called out a few times, and finally came back. Running into the room behind her was a teenage girl.
    Frankie gasped softly. “It’s her. It’s Juliet.”
    The girl was young, but tall, with long brown hair tightly braided and tied up in double loops in the back. She wore a gown of light pink that trailed behind her as she