A Prince and His Pauper

by Mark Peters

Chapter 5

With summer rapidly approaching, so were the auditions for our school's annual production, with Miss Carlton reminding Charlie every chance she got.

Charlie's dad came and went, due to his job, and we had settled back into our routine of spending afternoons at either his place or mine, or occasionally staying back after school for Charlie to receive some help from Miss Carlton with preparing for the upcoming auditions.

To be perfectly honest, we were both starting to grow weary of how hard she was pushing, but securing a role in this production meant the world to my boyfriend, and so I was happy to help in any way he asked me to, even if we both sometimes struggled with the task at hand, or got on each other's nerves. We also knew that there were others that would be auditioning for various roles in the production, although Miss Carlton was careful not to reveal who they might be, for whatever reason.

With her guidance, Charlie had selected several scenes from the play to rehearse, which they both felt would showcase his acting abilities to the panel of selectors who would apparently be assembled. Unfortunately, Miss Carlton wasn't going to have the final say in who would win the coveted roles. One of the selected scenes involved the death of the King, the father of the Prince – the character whom Charlie was intent on playing – while another involved the Princess , which Charlie's character was to marry, while a third scene involved young Prince Elwyn and his constant companion, Barnabus.

During our weeks of rehearsals at home for each of these scenes, I took the role opposite Charlie. Miss Carlton helped both of us with refining what we were doing, which in itself was challenging for me, but at the same time was also a whole lot of fun.

The day for the auditions was set for a Wednesday afternoon, less than a week away now, and would be held after school. By the time the auditions rolled around I was really getting into these characters, and if I was telling the truth, I had to admit that I was also really enjoying myself. I could now see why Charlie found acting so appealing, though I knew it was something I couldn't see myself taking any further than just being Charlie's sounding board . . . performing in front of people still wasn't my thing. The theatre had appeal, but I much preferred the idea of a backstage job.

When we entered the auditorium on the due day, a group of twenty or so students were gathered there, all eager for their shot at high school stardom. It was a nervous and ragtag bunch from every year, all of whom we at least knew by sight, but there weren't too many that we knew by name.

Miss Carlton was standing near the stage with the principal and several other teachers, along with a couple of people I didn't know. I assumed this would be the selection panel. Charlie bumped my shoulder with his and I glanced his way.

He looked more nervous than anyone else in the room, I thought, so I briefly took hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze.

'You've got this!' I whispered, before letting go of him, just in case someone might look our way and catch us.

'I wish I felt your confidence,' he replied.

'I'll let you feel it later if you like . . . after you get the part!'

For just a moment he looked at me with a shocked expression on his face, his eyes growing wide before he quickly glanced around to make sure nobody had heard, but when he grinned back at me, I knew he was going to be okay. He just needed a distraction, and it looked like it had worked.

'C'mon, let's do this,' he suddenly said, then started off down the aisle towards Miss Carlton and the others.

Upon seeing us approach I noticed Miss Carlton smiling at Charlie and giving him a nod, then, as if it had been Charlie she had specifically been waiting on, she clapped her hands together and said, 'Children, children. Let's get started, shall we?'

Of the remaining adults, one woman, who I recognised as being a teacher's aide, moved towards some seats in the front row and sat down, while another began setting up a video camera on a tripod.

'Thank you all for coming,' Miss Carlton continued. 'I hope that you have prepared your audition pieces and are looking forward to this? I know that I certainly am. I feel confident that this will be a memorable production for the school, as do our guests whom you will be auditioning for this afternoon.'

As she said this I glanced over towards the school principal, who seemed to be frowning. I had the feeling that he was actually the one in charge of this production, which was probably not that great a surprise, especially given the subject matter. I wondered, however, just how much control he would have, or how much of a free hand Miss Carlton would be given, to actually create this production.

'Now, I'm going to hand over to Mrs Francis, who will explain the procedures for our auditions today,' Miss Carlton said, before taking a seat beside the school principal.

'Thank you, Miss Carlton,' said Mrs Francis. 'Now, students, we will be asking you all to wait outside the auditorium while the auditions take place, and you will all be called in individually, or in pairs if there are certain parts where we need to ascertain how two potential characters might look and work together.'

Looking around us at the group of students I could see some heads nodding, with some expressions looking calm, some looking worried, and a couple looking quite smug. These must be the old hands who appeared in every production, I figured, who knew all there was to know about the audition process.

'We will be starting with some of the supporting characters first,' Mrs Francis continued. 'So if the following students could stay here, we will give you some time to prepare, while all the other students, if you can please wait outside in the corridor and start preparing, we will call you in when we are ready for you. Please be ready for when we call your names.'

Mrs Francis then read out a short list of names, before dismissing the rest of us, and we slowly made our way back out into the corridor, where small groups of students broke off into clusters, or some wandered off alone, while mumbling lines and looking from their scripts to the ceilings, or down to their feet, as they tried to remember it all.

It was amusing just watching them going through the motions. Some quiet. Some animated. Some sitting off to the side and closing their eyes, while getting into the zone.

'C'mon, let's head outside for some air,' Charlie suggested.

'Great idea,' I replied.

As we were leaving, there was a senior boy sitting just inside the doors to the hall who looked us up and down and seemed to sneer at us. The guy was tall and thin and blond, and had an almost arrogant air about him. He hadn't even opened his mouth yet, but I instantly disliked him.

As we walked past him, I heard him say, 'Chickening out already? Yeah, if you want to be Prince Elwyn, you may as well go now . . . I've got this part.'

The look of defeat in Charlie's eyes when I glanced his way, was heartbreaking.

'Nah,' I said to the guy. 'Just going to get some fresh air . . . this place stinks in here!'

Once outside, we found a seat near the doorway, so we wouldn't be too far away when Charlie got the call.

'Geez, who does that smug prick think he is?' I said, as I rested my head back against the brick wall.

'Nah, I don't know. But he's probably right.'

'Bullshit!' I said to Charlie, who only shook his head.

'His name is Ethan Blackwood,' another kid said to us, who had followed us out the door, before adding, 'He's seventeen, a senior, and always gets the lead.'

'He's totally up himself,' I responded.

'Yeah, he is. But he's also kind of good when he's on stage. He's confident and talented and has the looks too. I'm Brad Bremner. What parts are you guys trying out for?' the newcomer asked, while looking directly at me.

'Oh no, I'm not auditioning. I'm just helping my mate here, Charlie,' I responded.

As he turned his attention to Charlie, I took a moment to study him. He looked to be a senior as well; solidly built, brown hair, but only average looks, I thought; though definitely not ugly. He had a quality to him that made him look older than he probably was.

'You look like you could be an Elwyn,' he said to Charlie. 'Is that the part you're auditioning for?'

'Y-yeah,' Charlie replied.

'Me too, but I don't have a hope against you and Ethan. You look the part, but Ethan has the experience. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get another role though? At least, I'm hoping so.'

'You're bound to get something,' I said to him.

'And why aren't you auditioning?' he asked me.

'Oh, I'm more of a backstage kind of guy,' I replied. 'I'll be happy to help out with the sets and whatever else they want. So, have you done this before? How does it usually work?'

'Well, after they go through all the auditions they'll talk amongst themselves, maybe go back over the videos that they will have recorded, then Miss Carlton will usually post the results on her noticeboard by the end of the week.'

'So, we'll have to wait before we know if we get something?' Charlie asked.

'Yeah. That's usually how it works. So, do you think you're ready? Got your lines down pat?' Brad asked.

'I hope so.'

'You'll be fine.'

'Thanks,' Charlie replied.

A few more people came outside into the late afternoon sunshine and began practising their lines, wandering up and down the quadrangle with scripts in hand.

'If they don't know them by now, they'll never know their lines,' Brad said.

'I don't see Ethan doing any late cramming,' I remarked.

'Oh, no. That's one guy who won't need to do that. He'll be prepared,' answered Brad.

'Just great!' said Charlie.

Moments later, Mrs Francis came outside and looked around at us all, before saying, 'Fiona! Chris! Andrew! You three are next, please,' she called out. 'And after them, we'll need Ethan, Brad and Charlie please!'

We watched as the three students who had been called came over and then disappeared inside, all looking just a little nervous, I thought.

'It's showtime!' said Brad. 'Not long now. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to head inside and just read through my lines one last time.'

'What was that you said about not knowing lines?' I asked him.

Brad just smiled, and before he left us said, 'One last read through won't hurt. Good luck, Charlie.'

'Thanks.'

We followed Brad inside a few minutes later and watched what was going on with the others. Fiona came out of the auditorium all smiles, then one of the guys went in.

'That's Chris,' said Brad, as he walked past us. 'The other guy is Andrew.'

Charlie and I just nodded.

Five minutes later Chris came out, looking far from happy, then Andrew entered the auditorium. That just left the four of us waiting; Ethan, Brad, Charlie and me.

That constant smirk on Ethan's face was really starting to get to me.

'I'll never get the part over him,' Charlie bemoaned.

Doubts were building in Charlie's mind, and I could see that it was starting to get to him as well.

'Stop selling yourself short,' I said, trying to reassure him. I wanted to hug him, but I knew that wasn't possible. 'You're going to be just as good as him . . . and besides, you're hotter than he is.'

He shot me a doubtful look.

'Just breathe,' I kept telling him. 'Deep breaths. In and out.'

Surprisingly, he did as I suggested, and by the time the doors opened once more, and Andrew came out, looking calm, so too, was Charlie.

'Okay then, can we have Brad now, please?' Mrs Francis called out.

As he came over to the doorway, passing Ethan as he did so, they glanced at each other, but nothing was said.

'Good luck,' Charlie and I both said to him.

'Thanks,' he answered, then the door closed behind him.

Ethan stared at us, from a seat on the other side of the doorway, still looking smug. We stared back at him, but said nothing, then eventually he looked away.

Time seemed to drag, and Brad seemed to be in there for much longer than any of the earlier students. Glancing at Charlie, I noticed him leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, while his lips were moving, silently quoting his lines. I couldn't help but smile at him, and I was still smiling when he finally stopped and opened his eyes, before looking my way.

'All good?' I quietly asked him.

'Yeah, I think so.'

'You've got this!'

Finally, the door opened and Brad came out. He didn't look unhappy, but he didn't look too pleased with himself either. Resigned was the word that came to mind, I think.

'All good?' I quietly asked him again.

'Hard to say,' he replied, as Mrs Francis came through the door behind him.

'Ethan, can we see you now, please?' she asked.

We watched as the smug pick rose to his feet and followed Mrs Francis back into the auditorium, before the door closed.

As we sat there, waiting, we could hear muffled sounds coming from inside. There was the sound of laughter, the sound of people talking, and even some applause, I thought.

Sounded to me like things were going far too well. It almost sounded effortless – too effortless – as though he'd been born to play Prince Elwyn.

Ethan's audition was mercifully short. When the door finally opened again, Ethan came swaggering out with that same smirk plastered across his face. His eyes flicked to Charlie, then to me, before he gave a little mock bow and muttered, 'Break a leg, sweetheart.'

Charlie swallowed hard. 'Maybe I'll do just that,' he whispered back, though his voice trembled, as we watched the disappearing back of Ethan.

Mrs Francis poked her head out again. 'Charlie Brown, please.'

I stood with him, our shoulders brushing. 'You've got this,' I said quietly.

He managed a nod, though his face had gone pale. When I pulled him into a quick, bro hug, he didn't resist. 'Thank you,' he whispered, and then he was gone, stepping through the door into the glow of the stage lights. I watched him walk all the way down the centre aisle of the auditorium, right up until the door finally closed.

I sank back down beside Brad as the wait began. 'He'll be fine,' he said, folding his arms. 'It's good that he's got you. Most of my mates wouldn't bother showing up for something like this.'

'Yeah,' I replied. 'Not surprising really.'

We sat in silence for a while, listening to the muffled sounds of voices coming from within. Every now and then we'd catch Miss Carlton's laughter, or the sound of applause. It was torture not knowing what was happening.

When the door finally opened, Charlie emerged, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

'How'd it go?' I asked, as I bounced to my feet.

'I think . . . okay?' he said, while giving a small, nervous laugh. 'I didn't forget my lines. Miss Carlton smiled a few times. The others just kind of . . . watched, and then they clapped at the end.'

'Yeah, we heard that bit,' I replied, with a grin.

Brad clapped him on the shoulder. 'If you felt good, that's half the battle. I reckon you probably nailed it.'

'Thanks,' Charlie said. 'But I'm not counting on anything just yet.'

That night, at home, Charlie replayed every line, every glance, every breath, until even I was starting to think we'd been there again. When he finally crashed on his bed beside me, I brushed his hair from his eyes.

'You were amazing,' I said.

'You didn't even see me,' he murmured.

'I didn't need to.'

He smiled at that, small and tired, and then he snuggled in beside me.

When Friday afternoon came, there was an extra buzz around the drama class noticeboard. In the hallways there was all the usual chaos – lockers slamming, kids rushing for buses, voices echoing through the corridor – but all we wanted was to see the lists.

We pushed through the crowd until the printed sheet came into view, the words

CAST LIST above The Boy Who Would Be King were printed in bold across the top of the sheet.

Ethan Blackwood – Prince Elwyn
Charlie Brown – Prince Elwyn (Understudy)
Brad Bremner – King Harrow, the Dying King
Fiona March – Princess Arayana

The rest of the list was just a blur after that.

Charlie stared, blinking. 'Understudy,' he said softly. 'That's . . . good, isn't?'

'It's brilliant!' I said, draping an arm across his shoulders. 'You basically got the part — just not the stuck up version.'

He gave a shaky laugh. 'Yeah, I guess.'

Behind us, a familiar voice sneered. 'I guess the fag Prince didn't make the cut then, huh?'

I spun around, to find Martin Collins standing there, grin wide, a couple of his meathead friends flanking him.

'Careful, Martin,' I said quietly. 'Wouldn't want you choking on your own ego.'

He took a half-step closer, but then Brad suddenly appeared between us. 'Knock it off, Collins . You're not even in the play, so why don't you just jog along?'

Martin rolled his eyes and wandered off, muttering something to his friends about losers sticking together.

Charlie was trembling beside me. 'Why does he always . . .'

'Just forget him,' Brad said. 'You got the part, Charlie. You're Elwyn's shadow. That's fucking massive! Well done!'

That afternoon, back at Charlie's house, there was no sign of his grandmother, so we threw our bags in the corner of his bedroom and collapsed on his bed. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, catching the dust particles, which were magically hanging in the air.

'Understudy,' he murmured again, almost to himself. 'It almost sounds scary.'

'But it's the best kind of scary, right?' I said. 'Means you're next in line for the crown.'

That earned me a grin, faint but real. 'You think so?'

'I know so. I also know just how much you've wanted this. You deserve it!'

He reached for my hand, and neither of us cared who might walk in. When he leaned against me, head on my shoulder, all I could think was how proud I was of him . . . my brave, anxious, beautiful Charlie Brown.

The first rehearsal took place the following Monday after school, with the auditorium filled with an air of nervous excitement; different even, from the day of the auditions. Scripts fluttered in hands, and the actors, whether experienced, or first-timers, like Charlie, all looked around, trying to appear confident while lines buzzed around inside their heads, desperately wanting to not be forgotten.

Miss Carlton stood centre stage, clapping for quiet. 'Alright, everyone – welcome to the first read-through of The Boy Who Would Be King! I know you've all seen the cast list by now, so congratulations to each of you. We've got a big job ahead of us, but I promise you all that by the time the curtain falls on opening night, it'll totally be worth it.'

She smiled warmly at Charlie, and I saw the faintest blush creep up his neck.

Ethan, lounging on a seat near the front, looked bored already. His script was pristine – probably memorised cover to cover – while most others still had Post-it notes sticking out like flags.

Brad, who'd been cast as the dying King, sat near him, thumbing through his pages with quiet focus. He nodded a friendly greeting to Charlie and me when he saw us take our seats.

'Alright,' Miss Carlton continued. 'We'll start with Scene One – the throne room – with Prince Elwyn, the King, and the court adviser please.' She paused, scanning the list. 'That's Ethan, Brad, and Thomas. Then, Fiona, you're coming in at the end of the scene, so be ready please.'

The rehearsal began haltingly, as first rehearsals always do. Voices stumbled, pages rustled, cues were missed. Ethan's tone was smooth but dripping with arrogance, as if Prince Elwyn had just discovered mirrors and couldn't stop admiring himself.

Charlie sat beside me, marking his script, watching everything and soaking up every move made, like a sponge.

When the four players finally finished their scene, Miss Carlton clapped lightly. 'Good start, everyone. Ethan, you've got a lovely confidence, but let's see if we can find just a little more vulnerability in Elwyn. Remember, he's just a boy, so he needs to come across as that. We don't want him trying to be a man too soon . . . that will all come soon enough. Fiona, we have a little work to do, but it's going to be fine.'

Ethan nodded, though his smirk never wavered. 'Sure thing, Miss.'

When it came to Charlie's and the other understudy's turn to read the same lines, Ethan slumped back in his chair, pretending not to listen. I still caught him watching, though, with his frown unmistakable. Charlie's delivery was quieter, gentler, and seemed – to me at least – more honest. He didn't force the words; he felt them.

Miss Carlton smiled. 'Beautiful, Charlie. That's exactly what I mean.'

Ethan's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Brad was smiling.

Over the next few weeks, rehearsals became the rhythm of our lives. Three afternoons a week. School work was scaled back . . . for us at least, books went away, and scripts came out. I worked on the sets under the guidance of the art teacher, Mr Grady – a wiry man with wild grey hair who called us his "crew of misfits." Danny Southwell joined us too, wielding paint rollers and brushes as if they were swords.

'You lot are the backbone of this show,' Mr Grady said one afternoon, as we hammered together the throne platform. 'Without you, the actors are just kids talking in the dark.'

I grinned. 'Don't tell Ethan that. He already thinks the sun shines out of his . . .'

'Yes, yes, Brayden. I think we get the picture,' Mr Grady said, cutting me off before I could finish.

Danny snorted.

As the weeks passed, the rehearsals grew more and more intense. Ethan's confidence sometimes turned to cruelty – little jabs disguised as jokes seemed to be his go.

'Maybe you should take notes, Brown,' he'd say. 'You might need them if I ever break a leg.'

Charlie would laugh weakly, pretending not to care, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. Words really could sting.

Brad was often the peacemaker. 'Hey, ease up, Ethan,' he'd say, calmly but firmly. 'We're all on the same team here.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Ethan would reply. 'Just keeping things real.'

Still, something began to shift as the play took shape. When the lights dimmed and Charlie read Elwyn's lines opposite Brad's weary, noble King, the magic really started to show. Even the stagehands stopped hammering sometimes, just to listen.

But not everyone was thrilled. The school principal, Mr Leonard Pritchard , a stiff man with a permanent frown and a fondness for rules, dropped by often, mid-rehearsal, and always seemed to have something to say.

'Miss Carlton,' he said quietly but firmly, after watching for a few minutes. 'I've been reviewing the script. I have . . . concerns.'

Miss Carlton folded her arms, staring him down. 'Concerns?'

'The content,' he said. 'There are scenes that could be . . .' he glanced toward Ethan and Charlie, 'misinterpreted. Particularly by parents. I've already received . . . comments.'

'With respect, Mr Pritchard,' she said evenly, 'this play is about love and duty – not scandal. It's beautifully written, and it's teaching these students about empathy, confidence, and courage. I stand by it.'

He frowned, clearly unused to resistance. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Miss Carlton was staring him down. 'See that it doesn't cause a problem,' he said, then he left.

The moment the door closed, Ethan muttered, 'Maybe he's just jealous nobody cast him.'

Laughter broke the tension, and Miss Carlton shot them all a smile. 'All right, back to work before he finds a reason to cancel the whole show.'

By the time the dress rehearsal rolled around, the cast had bonded like a strange little family. There were arguments, of course. There were flubbed lines, misplaced props, Fiona storming off once in tears – but somehow, by the end of the night, it all worked.

Charlie, standing in for Ethan during the dress run, delivered every line with quiet conviction. When the final curtain fell, there was stunned silence, at least at first, but quickly the auditorium filled with applause from the handful of teachers and parents watching.

'Perfect,' Miss Carlton whispered, wiping at her eyes. 'Just perfect.'

Even Ethan, lounging in the front row, looked impressed – although we all knew that he would never admit it.

But then, the next morning, everything changed.

News spread like wildfire: Ethan Blackwood had a bike accident on his way to school. Nothing fatal, but his leg was broken clean through, and he was on his way to hospital in an ambulance.

By lunchtime, Miss Carlton's face was the colour of paper. Mr Pritchard was already in her office, arguing.

'It's impossible,' he said. 'We postpone. Or better still, we cancel.'

'No,' she snapped, for once losing her composure. 'We have an understudy for a reason. Charlie can do it.'

'Brown?' His eyebrows shot up. 'That fragile little . . .'

'Talented little actor,' she corrected. 'He knows every line. His dress rehearsal was flawless. He's ready.'

Pritchard pinched the bridge of his nose. 'If this blows up, it's on you.'

'Then it's on me,' she said.

Backstage that evening, the atmosphere was electric and tense. Costumes rustled, lights buzzed, and the murmur of the audience bled through the curtains.

Charlie stood frozen near the wings, pale as parchment.

'I can't do this,' he whispered. 'Not in front of everyone. They'll laugh. They'll know.'

I took his hands, pulled him close. 'They'll see the Prince. That's all. Just the Prince.'

He shook his head, breathing too fast.

'Charlie,' I said softly, 'you've worked too hard for this. You're ready. You're more than ready. Everybody knows it.'

And before I could stop myself, I kissed him – quick, desperate, hidden in the dark wings.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped. Then someone coughed nearby, and I realised we weren't alone. It was Danny. Brad was there too, both of them looking away politely.

'Secret's safe,' Brad murmured with a wink.

The stage manager's voice cut through the darkness. There was no time to think about anything else right now. 'Places, everyone! Curtain in two minutes!'

Charlie looked at me, eyes wide but steady now. 'I guess this is it.'

I smiled. 'Break a leg, Prince Elwyn.'

He stared back at me, still steady, before he smiled. And then he stepped into position, alongside the other actors who were needed for the opening scene.

The music started.

Someone backstage yelled, 'Curtain!'

Then the two halves of the dark-green drapes slowly began to recede, leaving the actors just standing there, a single spotlight illuminating them as the soft swell of music rose and the murmur of the crowd turned into a hush.

For a heartbeat, everything stood still. Then Charlie stepped forward, the light finding him like destiny.

He wasn't Charlie Brown , the quiet blond kid everyone overlooked or whispered about – he was Prince Elwyn , heir to a kingdom, son of a revered King, for whom fate was about to deliver a wicked twist. It wasn't Charlie standing there as a boy at the edge of manhood. It was a genuine Prince.

The words he spoke were ones I'd heard a hundred times in recent weeks, whispered across his bedroom, mouthed in mirror rehearsals, muttered in sleep. But tonight they sounded new – real – like they'd always belonged to him.

The play began, and the story slowly started to unfold. A story of a King, powerful, yet caring. A story of a Prince, handsome, perhaps a little arrogant, yet still a boy who was unsure of himself, with secrets to hide; a secret love that dared not be spoken of. A story of an alliance between two kingdoms, through blood and marriage. Followed by a reluctance to marry for anything but love, but with a devotion to duty winning out.

Then comes the betrayal. Deceit within the ranks of the King's men. An attempt on the King's life, to try and prevent the alliance, which was always destined to fail, though it would still inflict an injury that may eventually prove deadly.

As the story unfolds, the secrets of the Prince begin to be revealed. His love for another comes as a surprise to many, yet isn't surprising to some.

We rode every up and down of the story, captivated by the young Prince, enthralled by Charlie's honest delivery. We were now approaching a pivotal point. The audience were hanging on every word.

As the stage fell into darkness, our crew hurried to reset, then when a single spotlight returned, we found the King, in all his finery sitting upon his throne, centre stage, but looking pale. At his feet sat the young Prince, while at the side of the stage, the Prince's young page waited patiently at the edge of the shadows.

'My health is failing, my Prince,' said the King, with Brad's voice trembling with just the right strength. 'Infection has taken hold and my death will be inevitable. I fear that one death for you to contend with right now is one death too many. You and your young page must be careful. You must be . . . discreet . . . or you may face untold hardships . . .'

They both looked in the direction of the lonely figure at the edge of stage left.

'You know?' the Prince said, with a trembling voice, while scrambling to his feet.

'There is little that I do not know of, my son. But fear not . . . I won't be the one to break your heart by forbidding this love.'

The King drew in some ragged breaths and fell back against his throne, resting, his sentence unfinished.

'But what of Princess Arayana . . . what of our . . . our betrothal? The alliance of our kingdoms?'

'It stands,' a girl's voice suddenly called out, which was quickly followed by the sharp sound of footsteps on a stone floor, as the Princess Arayana, joined them. She was a vision of beauty, in a flowing gown and wearing a petite tiara of gold.

'I . . . I don't understand.'

'This alliance between our two kingdoms is the only way we will survive. The threats surrounding us are great, but together, we are greater. I shall marry you, my Prince. And I shall bear you an heir . . . an heir who will one day unite and rule both our lands, as one kingdom, united.'

As she said this, Arayana stepped forward and took the hands of the Prince in hers.

'You can have your Barnabus . . . I shall not stand in your way . . . but you must have me also, so together we can build something powerful and lasting. Can we do that, my Prince?'

Prince Elwyn looked from Arayana to his father, and back again.

'You have my blessing,' they both heard the King say, in a voice that was tired, yet filled with pride.

'Yes,' Prince Elwyn eventually answered. 'We both have a duty to our kingdoms and to our people,' he added, before turning and gazing towards where Barnabus still stood with stoic patience, his face etched with concern.

'Go to him,' the King said. 'Prepare him for the life before him.'

'Yes,' said the Princess.

Beside me in the wings, Miss Carlton had tears in her eyes. Brad – magnificent in his crown and cloak – had met Charlie's every line with a quiet power. Fiona, as Princess Arayana, had shone with a regal calm that steadied each and every scene.

The audience leaned in.

Was this now the time for that moment? The moment that everyone felt sure they knew was coming. The moment that had worried Charlie most of all.

Prince Elwyn moved to one side of the stage, away from his ailing father and his betrothed, and faced the audience.

The pain in the young Prince's eyes was palpable, as he stared into the darkness, while standing near to his one true love.

Turning to face Barnabus, and then taking the boy's hands in his, they gazed into each other's eyes.

'I heard your father's words. I shall not abandon you, my Prince. I am yours for the taking, until my dying day, no matter the obstacles that will face us,' whispered Barnabus.

'Be careful what vows you may pledge, my love. There are those who may wish to hold you to them, and use a steel blade to make their point,' the Prince replied. 'My father's health is failing, a nd his death will be inevitable. One death for me to contend with right now is one death too many. Two would be nigh impossible.'

'If that is the will of the Gods, my Lord, then so be it,' Barnabus said quietly. 'At least I shall die knowing that I have served you well and loved you like no other. But I suspect our Gods are more accepting than those of our enemies, and perhaps they will see our love in its purest form, as it really is, and offer us their protection. Your father has bestowed his blessing upon us, even if he has also reminded you of what else it is you must do in order to fulfil your destiny and ensure the Royal line, and in the event of his passing, I shall devote my life to ensuring his wishes for you are fulfilled.'

'For certain, I have a duty to our kingdom, and I shall honour that duty and my father's wishes, but also, with my father's blessings I shall love you for as long as you shall have me,' Prince Elwyn promised.

'Then you shall have me for a long, long time,' the page replied, while grinning at the Prince.

As the two boys gazed into each other's eyes, a hush fell over the hall. Prince Elwyn placed his hands on the cheeks of Barnabus, holding their faces close, before finally leaning in.

There was a gasp from the crowd. It was really happening. They were going to kiss. But it wasn't to be, as the Prince simply rested his forehead against that of his companion.

As the lights faded, Miss Carlton squeezed my arm. 'He's brilliant,' she whispered. 'Utterly brilliant.'

I already knew that, but I didn't have time to linger, as the set needed to be changed for the next scene.

By the time the final act had finished, and our Prince now wore the crown of his father, and as the curtain fell for the final time, the applause came like a wave – rising, cresting, unstoppable. People were on their feet. Cameras flashed.

The curtains closed, and the applause continued, then a short time later they opened again, to reveal the entire cast as they took their bows.

Charlie stood in the centre of the stage, for a few moments looking dazed and blinking in the spotlight, but then he broke out into a massive grin. The curtain closed and quickly, at the direction of Miss Carlton, the cast all stepped back into the wings. All of them except Charlie, who Miss Carlton made stay in centre stage, for his final curtain call.

As the curtain opened once more, Charlie gave the smallest of bows, as the crowd applauded enthusiastically. His father and grandmother were in the front row, beaming with pride. My parents were there too, clapping until their hands must have hurt. I know that I was grinning until my cheeks were burning.

Backstage, once the curtain had closed for the final time, chaos erupted. Cast members whooped and cheered. Fiona hugged Charlie. Brad ruffled his hair. Even Mr Pritchard, red-faced and flustered, muttered something about " a most unexpected success."

When Miss Carlton finally reached him, she wrapped him in a fierce embrace. 'You were magnificent,' she said. 'Your courage tonight – that's what acting is all about.'

Charlie could barely speak. 'Thank you, Miss.'

'Don't thank me,' she said. 'You earned every second of that applause. It is us, who must thank you.'

Later, after the crowd had gone and the auditorium had fallen silent once more, with the lights now dimmed and everyone having gone home, I found Charlie sitting alone on the edge of the stage. He had a bottle of Pepsi in his hand, and was still half in costume with the crown sitting beside him.

'You didn't tell me you could own a stage,' I said.

He smiled up at me. 'I didn't know I could.'

'Well, now you do.'

He stood, and for a moment we just looked at each other in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Then he stepped into my arms, and I held him. There was no hiding this time, no fear.

'I thought I'd forget my lines,' he whispered. 'Or I thought I'd totally freeze up.'

'But you didn't. You nailed it.'

He laughed shakily. 'I think . . . even just for a little while, it was like, I don't know . . . like I was actually him. Prince Elwyn. Brave. Certain. Someone who knew what he wanted and wasn't going to let anything stand in his way.'

'You still are,' I said. 'You just don't need the crown anymore.'

He kissed me then. Gentle. Unhurried. The way people kiss when they finally believe they're safe.

When we made it back to his house some time later, we faced interrogation from Charlie's parents, keen to hear every detail of the night. They had seen the play for themselves and had seen the reaction of the audience, as well as the cast at the curtain call, and were thrilled for us that everything had gone so well.

When we were finally able to retreat to Charlie's bedroom, the night stretched out, warm and quiet, and we collapsed onto his bed, yet with both of us still buzzing.

'That was insane,' I said. 'You made half the school cry.'

'Even Martin Collins?' he teased.

'Especially him. He had no idea you'd outshine his favourite senior.'

Charlie laughed softly. 'I still can't believe what happened with Ethan. I mean, it was awful, but still . . .'

'Fate sometimes has a sense of humour,' I said.

He grew quiet, staring at the ceiling. 'Do you think they'll ever look at me the same again? Everyone at school I mean, after tonight?'

I turned to him. 'No chance of that now. And isn't that the point? You're not that pushover kid anymore. You're somebody now!'

He smiled. It was a tired, yet happy, smile. A promise of something new.

'Brayden?' he murmured after a moment.

'Yeah?'

'I think I finally know what I want to be.'

'Oh, I already know what you want to be,' I responded. 'An actor?'

He nodded. 'For real this time. Not just pretending. I want to keep doing this. I want to feel that again.'

I grinned. 'Then you will. You've got the talent, the heart – and the best stage crew in the world.'

He chuckled. 'You're biased.'

'Totally.'

'And will you come with me when I'm travelling the world and making movies?'

'Just try and keep me away!' I answered.

He rolled over, resting his head against my chest. Outside, the cicadas sang, and somehow the world seemed to settle.

Tomorrow night we would be doing it all again. For once, Charlie Brown wasn't hiding, wasn't afraid. He was exactly who he was meant to be; and I knew that this was just the beginning.

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