Chapter Text
Lydia knew of Cynthia Zdunowski; everyone did. She was a pariah that represented everything that a girl was not. But no matter how hard she seemed to try, she wasn’t quite boy enough for the boys, either. She was weird and loud, and known for speaking her mind, no matter the situation.
She was not soft. She was not kind. Or dainty. Or poised.
And still, Lydia couldn’t seem to look away. The girl was reckless and headstrong; everything that she was not. Yet, Lydia found herself inexplicably drawn to her. She tried not to think about that feeling too often, knowing that nothing would come of it. After all, it’s not like there would ever be a reason for them to interact.
Until there she was, right in her very theatre class. There was an angry fire in her eyes, ready to burn and promising to scald. In this moment, she was a force to be reckoned with. Lydia couldn’t help but bear witness to her righteous fury.
She had not at all been prepared for their first interaction. But it was either interrupt her or let her waltz right into her. So, in a moment of sheer internal panic, she did what she did best. Lash out. Unsurprisingly, Cynthia lashed right back at her with an unoriginal insult. Luckily, Mr. Vaughan came in and redirected the other girl’s attention. For a moment.
“Can you guide me away from her?”
The words stung a bit, which Lydia had not anticipated. Not at all. This girl was a stranger; like an actor on TV, separated by the thick screen of glass. Still, a part of her mourned the loss. After only speaking a sentence to her, she had already ruined any chance of a friendship with her. Ever since she noticed Cynthia, she found herself enraptured, obsessed. Not that she would ever admit it, but something inside of her yearned to be around her.
And Cynthia was around her a lot. According to Mr. Vaughan, she was there to learn theatre as an alternative to yet another permanent mark on her record. Not that it would truly matter. The girl would never be accepted into a college; not that she seemed the type to want to go. She had an… unpleasant reputation and went to shop classes with the T-birds. Like she was just another Greaser boy. If anything, she would find herself sweating it up in some mechanic’s shop. Just like her father. Then again, that is what she seemed to want.
Not that Lydia had noticed.
Rightfully, the thespians had been appalled by her initiation performance. Of all the prompts Mr. Vaughan had used over the years, this one was simple. Easy. Really, that was his mistake; Cynthia was unable to take anything seriously. Ever.
“Tough crowd, huh?”
God, the little menace. Despite how absolutely infuriating she had been, there was something to her. Something that made her impossible to look away from. To ignore.
The following class, she appeared complacent, willing to learn. But then she would rebel and defy in little ways. Going off-script in a subtle way or breaking the rules of an exercise. For a time, Lydia had been able to avoid her. Somehow it still only brought her a small amount of peace. She watched from afar but drifted away when they practiced in a group.
On the day that they were working on a Meisner exercise, Lydia’s luck had run out. Mr. Vaughan had partnered them together and there was nothing she could do to combat it. Not without embarrassing herself.
The close proximity was disorientating, and she found herself fighting a fluttering feeling. A feeling that she was determined to ignore. At first, it was easy. She approached the daunting task by starting with something she knew. Something about Cynthia that one could not doubt; something that wouldn’t change.
“Your hair is brown.” Simple. A fact, a gateway to give her time to think of something better, deeper. Personal.
As always, the other girl was snarky. So, she tried again, only to be met with a yawn. It took a lot to keep her cool, but she let herself imagine, just for a moment, that her words had meaning.
“You’re scared.” She had paid attention, far too much attention, to Cynthia. She had seen her toe the line between girl and boy, had seen her misstep. When she neared a metaphorical cliff, she would stumble back. Maybe it was a hit too close to home, but it would work. It was personal.
After all, she knew how to play by the rules. And it seemed to work. The girl in front of her broke when she repeated the statement. Like a cornered animal, she got defensive.
With a final push from Mr. Vaughan and just one more repeat of the phrase, she was gone. And for a moment, Lydia was scared too. Had she gone just a little too far? But then their instructor was there, congratulating her for Cynthia’s discomfort.
Instead of pride, something heavy settled in her stomach. She smiled through it, pretending that everything was fine. Just like she always did.
The fluttering feeling solidified like a ball and chain around her heart.
A lot had changed since Cynthia’s first day in theatre. But her disdain for Lydia hadn’t. Their interactions had been few and far between. A part of her was thankful. A part of her was mournful.
Lydia knew something was going to change when Mr. Vaughan ended class with Cynthia doing a solo exercise. And it did. When she walked through those curtains, she was different. She was acting.
And she couldn’t look away. Like the other thespians, she found herself intrigued by this change. And impressed, just for a moment, by the maturity of her performance. It was new, refreshing. Instead of leaving like the others, Lydia stayed behind. Maybe, if she had just a moment with her, just a moment to talk to her…
When Lydia clapped and smiled at her, all her maturity fled. Like a neurotic pigeon, she flipped her off - in character - and flew from the room. And that chain constricted ever tighter around her heart.
From then on, Lydia tried to let it go. They went on the next few classes like nothing had happened. Like the other wasn’t even there. Then, McGee came in and ruined everything.
Romeo and Juliet. Although popular, it was a disgusting representation of true theatre. To say that it was a masterpiece was an insult to the art. With shallow characters and over-the-top drama, it was an embarrassment. And that was coming from her, the queen of drama club.
Damn you, Cynthia. They all knew it was her fault. Their club was generally left alone, with little budget but also little intervention from administration. But with the other girl’s habit of troublemaking, they were back on the map.
Personally, Lydia knew that she could pull off any lead role. She didn’t need the other thespians’ attempts at support. Their words ran off of her like water, not nearly cool enough to diminish the heat of her rage. Really, she was more mad at Cynthia’s nonsense than anything. If she could just shut up for once…
But she couldn’t. Not even when Lydia explained how casting would go. How it always went. Lydia had always been partnered with Arthur in romances, though it left a lot to be desired.
But she could see that this was going to be a war. All she had to do was look in the brunette’s eyes. Such beautiful eyes, even the blue was tumultuous like the waters of a raging river-
It only got worse. With a new dress code in place, many of her outfits would collect dust in the closet. All thanks to the Pink Ladies and their… their drama. Brown was definitely not her color. But it was the most muted she had, and she lacked any other option.
Any tolerance for Cynthia had evaporated. The only emotion - the only acceptable emotion - she felt towards her was disdain. Or maybe anger. The rational part of her knew that she wasn’t directly responsible for McGee’s actions. And it wasn’t like she had gotten anything good out of it. The irrational part grew claws and begged Cynthia to come close enough to be maimed.
With auditions around the corner, Cynthia decided to stir up more trouble for her. She managed to convince the other theatre kids that they had a chance at lead parts. And she had the confidence that she would get an impossible role to match.
The sooner that Cynthia realized that she couldn’t truly be herself on stage, the less of a big deal it would be. She would be perfect for the role of Mercutio, if only they could give it to her. Hell, she was halfway to insanity without having to pretend. But to everyone else, she was a girl. Meant to wear skirts, dumb herself down, and make herself pretty for the boys. To everyone else, she was just another Susan.
Again, any empathy she may have had for her evaporated when she found other names penned under ‘Juliet.’ This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, how she had thought it always would.
Still, she found herself looking at Cynthia almost the entire time, measuring her emotions. She enjoyed when she seemed embarrassed when Edward messed up. But she didn’t like the smug smile she flashed when someone did particularly well. Or her unwillingness to back down. It was so disorientating; Lydia was used to the other thespians flocking to her and declaring her mother hen. But here Cynthia was, breaking from the mold and stringing the others along with her.
This girl was distracting in the worst way possible. She made Lydia nervous, threw her off balance. For the first time in her life, she messed up an audition. Fumbled in a key moment of something she had done her entire life.
And Cynthia was enjoying it. Too much. She kicked back and watched Lydia stumble. Relished in it even. Until there she goes again, wowing them all.
This girl. This girl would be the perfect Mercutio, a great Romeo even. Her performance was perfect, drawing Lydia in like a moth to the light. She didn’t run away this time. No matter how intensely Lydia stared, this girl was unflappable. Crazy and neurotic, yes, but oh-so-mesmerizing.
Mr. Vaughan looked inspired, and twice as impressed as any of the thespians. Still, Lydia tried to take a deep breath and regain her confidence. Even having made a mistake, she was still going to be Juliet. She would be called to read with a Romeo and all would be swell. Then she could focus on the play and not Cynthia.
Or so she thought. Instead, Alice was brought up to read. And when Vaughan posted the audition results, she was flabbergasted. Floored by this shift in the paradigm. Floyd and Arthur leered at her, blaming her as if Cynthia hadn’t been the one to ruin it.
It all came boiling to the surface when she saw her name printed next to ‘Nurse.’ How was it that she worked so hard and the fresh blood got the part? How was it that a girl who had never even read the play before junior year got a lead role? She couldn’t even pronounce Mercutio for heaven’s sake.
This time, Lydia was the wounded animal. Feeling herself close to tears, she lashed out and stormed off. And then there she was. Looking at her with a new expression; one of understanding and guilt.
Lydia simply couldn’t handle it.
She hadn’t wanted to go to the football game. But here she was, reading a book and avoiding it all. If she tried hard enough, the words erased reality. She was somewhere else, anywhere else. Being whisked away in a whirlwind romance, or going on a perilous journey with a questionably suicidal adventurer. All of her problems were gone.
For a time. Eventually, she just sat there; watching, observing. Bored. Until the Pink Ladies did it again. Finally, the game became entertaining. She found herself laughing and smiling at the sight of Nancy revealing herself as Rowdy. Then, she watched as Cynthia ran off with her little girl gang again. And that weight in her chest became heavier.
She wasn’t expecting an apology. She wasn’t. Why would she be? After all, she had known that Cynthia was like this, that she did whatever she wanted without consideration of who she was screwing over. Lydia used to think that maybe she was simply oblivious about the hurt she caused. Now, she knew that she simply put on blinders so that she did not have to see it.
At least the dress code was gone. As time went on, she tried to find silver linings. That is, until rehearsal truly started for the play. From then on, she was being trampled by an avalanche. She watched as Cynthia butchered her lines and made a complete fool of herself and the rest of the cast. Even Mr. Vaughan could see that she was going to fail. That she would go up on that stage and flounder helplessly.
Oh, how she wanted her to fail. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so goddamn inferior. At least her friendship with Arthur and Floyd was fixed. Their nonsense offered the occasional distraction from her inner turmoil. That curious feeling had not gone away. It clung to her heart and festered there. Like a cancer.
Still, rehearsal went on.
“Unless you want to cast someone else.” And by god, she’s looking at her again. But this time, it isn’t to hurt. Is she… trying to give the role to her? For just a moment she feels a flash of hope. It doesn’t sit right with her, this attempt at kindness. Or is it pity, a trick?
Either way, she is done with Cynthia. When Mr. Vaughan asks her to assist, she refuses. All she can think about is how she should be in her place. About looking down from that balcony, no matter how fake, and feeling romance for just a moment. Maybe then her heart would not sing for something- someone so impossible. She simply cannot stomach the idea of helping Cynthia when so much of her wants to rip the girl apart and cling to the pieces.
So, she refuses. And this time, the brunette doesn’t argue. But she makes sure to leave Cynthia with a lot to think about. She leans closer, maybe a little too close, to put the image in her head. Of just how bad it will be when she inevitably fails. Maybe this time the concept of consequences will stick.
Then again, with every problem that she has been a part of this year so far, that’s asking a lot. Too much.