Scene 12

There is absolutely nothing that feels better than the fabric of a theater curtain. It’s so smooth in my hand and even just being next to it makes me feel calmer. I’m not going to think about how these curtains have probably not been washed in a hundred years. It’s not dirt or dust on them: it’s memories! And even though they haven’t changed at all from the first day of camp, or even from when I saw them at that first performance, somehow they feel different today.

Standing backstage with my clipboard, I watch all the campers pick up their costumes before they head to the changerooms. I tap the top of the board with my finger. It’s not quite like shaking my arms out, something that I really would love to do right now, but it feels good. It helps me feel grounded. And not the bad kind of grounded, when you’re in trouble and you’re getting that face that’s “not angry, just disappointed”—the good kind of grounded. As though there are ropes and pulleys and a whole system for keeping me together right before this super stressful evening. It probably doesn’t look like it because I am very good at hiding it, but I’m actually so stressed! So many things could go wrong, like someone forgetting their lines, or one of the huge backdrops breaking into a million pieces, or someone coughing in the middle of a very important scene. All these things that I don’t want to happen are swirling around in my brain, but I know I should just focus on what my mom would tell me: “Stay in the moment, Maya.” So I’m going to listen to that.

Mom dropped me off early so that I could help set up before the big show tonight. It’s the day I’ve been waiting for my entire life! Sure, I’ll be backstage, helping the other campers with their lines and the lighting cues. And even though I feel the familiar squeeze in my heart at not being center stage and Jules not being here to see the performance, I’m going to be doing all this alongside THE Irene Brown!

When Mom and I talked this morning, she said when I call Dad this weekend that I can “run it by him” about whether I can sign up for the fall classes. I rolled my eyes at that a little. I can’t really run anything by him because it’s just talking on the phone and plus they’re the parents. They’re going to “make the call” that they want to, even if they pretend that they’re taking my feedback “under consideration.” Mom must have been in a good mood or I must be getting more mature because when I told her that, she didn’t even give me that look.

We’ve been working on having more “Mom and Maya” time, but she didn’t come into the gym when she dropped me off early. She said she had to run some errands before the play started, otherwise she would have stayed with me while we set up. I’m actually happy that she didn’t stay. I want it to be magical and surprising for her when she walks into the gym. She’ll come back to all the chairs set up and the lights ready. She’ll see me walking around with my clipboard like a real assistant director. I’m not going to tell her that the clipboard is just because I think it looks official and not because I actually need it. Since I know everything by heart, of course. Irene Brown said she was going to carry a clipboard around with the lighting cues and everything, so I thought it would make sense for me to match. I didn’t want her to feel bad that she can’t remember everything in her brain anymore, since she’s an adult and she has a lot of stuff to remember.

“Maya!” Aislinn yells from across the room. She starts jogging up to me, throwing herself onto the raised stage. She can’t get herself up all the way since the stage is several feet above the gym floor. I watch as she dangles a little bit off the edge and then, sighing, lands back on the ground and walks around to the stairs.

“That was a really good try, but you should definitely stick to the stairs,” I say, laughing. She makes a face at me and then sits down on the edge of the stage.

“I’m really nervous that my parents aren’t going to make it in time,” Aislinn says. She kicks her legs back and forth against the stage platform.

I sit down next to her and nudge her with my shoulder. “They’ll make it. I know it.”

Aislinn smiles at me. We sit there for a while, watching the other campers stream into the room and listening to the clock tick closer to showtime.

My heart feels like it’s going to jump right out of my chest, but somehow my voice doesn’t wobble even a little when I yell, “Okay, everyone! Five minutes until curtain!”

All the campers run around to their positions. Aislinn and I stand up to join them. This is really happening! I hold the clipboard tight against my chest, smiling and swaying a bit next to the backstage door.

Irene Brown taps me on the shoulder. She leans toward me and whispers, “Your mother wants to talk to you before we get started.”

I wrinkle my eyebrows. “We only have a few minutes before we start.”

“Yes, she knows that. She said it’s important.” She gestures toward my clipboard. “Go on, I’ll look after this for two minutes.”

I wonder what is more important than starting on time? But my worries about the time disappear from my brain when I see who is sitting next to my mom in the second row of chairs.

“Dad!” I screech, running over to him. This is the only surprise I ever want! At least part of my plan for this summer is coming true after all: my parents in the audience at the camp showcase.

Dad slowly gets up out of his seat like he’s a hundred years old and wraps me in a hug. He squeezes me so tight that I feel all my stresses from earlier just disappear right out of me. There’s no space for them here.

“Hey Maya-papaya,” he laughs. He sets me down. “I hear the assistant director is really incredible for this show.”

“Dad, you know I’m the assistant director! But what are you doing here?”

“My contract ended early, so your mom and I thought we’d surprise you. I can’t wait to see what you’ve been working on. It sounds like you might be ready for those fall classes after all.”

“Really?”

“We’ll talk about it after the performance,” he says.

I can’t stop myself from grinning, joy tugging my whole face up into the smile. If this moment, right here, was a musical, it would definitely have one of those ensemble dance scenes. It would look all spontaneous and improvised and it would make the audience feel so happy that my dad is back. I’d probably need tap shoes. This kind of feeling is definitely one that would make sense in tap shoes.

“We don’t want you to be late, so we’ll see you after it’s done,” my mom says. She nods over at where Irene Brown is waiting for me. As I race over, I touch each of my fingertips to my palm, feeling the buzz build up inside me. It’s finally time to start the showcase!