Becca twisted around to see a woman with a steel-colored bun pulled so tight that it looked painful.
“Nurse?” Juliet said, mouth hanging open.
“Who?” Sam said, eyeing the newcomer.
“Oh, er,” Juliet said, “everyone, this is Nurse. She’s my nanny.”
“That’s right, I am,” Nurse said, “and I intend to see that you turn out well, no matter what nonsense you may get into. Everyone, drop what you’re doing this instant!”
Becca dropped her tomato.
Mercutio dropped his sword.
Juliet dropped Romeo’s wrist, which she’d been checking for a pulse.
The nurse pointed a square finger at Tybalt. “You, too, Tybalt Kenneth Fiore Rudolfo Capulet!”
Tybalt shifted uncomfortably, then finally let go of Sam, who dropped to the street.
“That’s better,” Nurse said, crossing her arms. “You may have your own perfumery, but you’re not head of the Capulets yet! Go home—you’re grounded for a week! And for goodness’ sake, take a bath before that perfume puts your whole family in a coma.”
“But that’s Romeo Montague and his minions!” Tybalt said. “The Montagues stole our dough recipe! I was only trying to stand up and do some good for the Capulets.”
“Nonsense,” Nurse said crisply. “You’re only blaming the Montagues because you can’t figure out a new perfume recipe. Maybe you can come up with a new one while you’re grounded. Now, go home.”
Tybalt opened his mouth to argue again, but he got a look from the nurse that could’ve split lumber. He lowered his head and his shoulders drooped.
“Wait a second!” Becca squeaked, and she shook as everyone looked at her. “Tybalt also took a purple backpack. Where is it?”
Tybalt mumbled something.
“Speak up, Tybalt,” Nurse ordered. “Or it’s two weeks, and I take away your perfume kit!”
“It’s in the apothecary’s,” Tybalt said sullenly.
Becca went back inside, careful to avoid the mucus puddles left over from Mercutio’s sneezing. Purple straps peeked out from behind the apothecary’s counter. She hurried over.
Zipping her bag open, she saw with relief that Romeo and Juliet was still in there. She ran back outside just in time to see Tybalt slink away.
Nurse, Mercutio, and Juliet were all gathered around Romeo, while Sam was carefully checking Rufus for injuries.
“Did you get the book?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” she said. “Is Roo okay?”
“I think so,” Sam said. “His nose is a little bit runny, but what do you expect after an hour being locked up with Tybalt’s bad cologne? He deserves lots of extra treats for his bravery.”
WOOF! Roo’s tail gave a small wag.
“I’m sure we can convince Steve to get an extra bag.” She scratched Rufus’s ears, and the big fluff pile let out a relaxed grunt.
“Hey,” Sam said. “Did you just refer to my dad—Stephen R. Danielson III—as Steve?”
“Did I?” Becca said, pausing midscratch to look at Sam. “I guess I did.”
Sam grinned, and Becca felt her daydreams of flowers and grass skirts finally disappear.
“I’m happy you’re okay, Roo,” Becca said, changing the subject. She kissed the puppy on his big, wet, sniffly nose. She was rewarded with a SLURP across her face.
The three family members quickly hurried over to Romeo. Juliet was still cradling his head in her hands.
“You took a tomato for me,” Juliet said softly. “And we had such a lovely conversation about pizza. But … you’re a Montague.” She sighed. “Romeo, Romeo … Wherefore art thou Romeo?”
“He’s right there,” Sam said.
Wherefore doesn’t mean where. It means why.
“Ohhhh.”
“Sam,” Juliet said, looking up, “I still think you’re great, and I want to thank you for your bravery in dealing with Tybalt, but I … I think I need to take a little while to figure out my feelings. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, quite all right,” Sam said, turning redder than an exploding ketchup factory on Mars.
“But Romeo … if you were anyone else…” Juliet shook her head sadly.
“Nonsense,” Nurse cut in. “So what if your families have been fighting for years? Doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it. If you ask me, all of Verona has been acting like children since its pizza ingredients were stolen. And it’s all the Narrator’s fault!”
Becca’s and Sam’s heads whipped toward her.
“The Narrator?” Becca said. “Do you know anything about him—or her?”
Nurse narrowed her eyes at them. “So you know the Narrator, then.… Curious.”
“No, we don’t—not personally—but we’d like to,” Sam chimed in.
“Then I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person. I only know that the Narrator likes to stir up trouble.”
A thought popped into Becca’s head, and she whirled around to face a wide-eyed Sam.
“Do you think—” she began.
“—that the Narrator stole the cheese and the dough recipe?” Sam finished grimly. “Yeah, I do. He seems to enjoy chaos.”
Becca turned her eyes upward, waiting for the Narrator to defend its honor.
“Pssst, I know you’re there!” she whispered.
There was no answer, and there wouldn’t be one coming. It was a question for another time, in another book.
“Look!” Juliet said excitedly. “Romeo’s moving!”
“Urrrf,” Romeo said, stirring slightly. “What happened? Why is it dark? Tybalt blinded me!”
“No, silly, it’s just tomato chunks that have crusted to your eyelashes,” Juliet said. The nurse handed her a cloth, and she wiped Romeo’s eyes clean.
He blinked once, twice, and then stared deeply into Juliet’s eyes.
“Uh, are you all right?” Sam asked.
“Did I love till now?” Romeo practically sighed, not breaking eye contact with Juliet. “Forswear it, sight: I never saw true beauty till this night.”
Juliet turned bright pink—the pink of a sunburned flamingo swimming in grapefruit juice. She gave him an earsplitting smile.
“Wow,” Sam whispered to Becca. “He really is a poet. And he didn’t even—”
“Don’t,” Becca said, clamping her hand over his mouth. “The tomato hit on the head must have knocked some poetry into him!”
“Will you go to the Lotsa-Rella Ball with me tomorrow?” Romeo asked.
Juliet’s face was now magenta. “I’d love to.” She beamed.
Becca grinned at her stepbrother. “This is it! We can go home now! Thank you, Nurse.… Nurse?” She looked around the Verona square, but the nurse was nowhere to be seen. “Wow. Is she a superhero?”
“Definitely,” Mercutio said. “I’ve seen her cape.”
