Michael stared frantically into the darkened theater, trying to get his bearings. He was onstage, in a scene, squirming under the gaze of a thousand rapt patrons.
Was he in costume?
What was the play?
Did he know his lines?
An actress beside him said something, but her mouth moved in a bizarre imitation of a fish, as if she were talking in slow motion, and the roar in Michael’s ears kept him from hearing what she said. He was drunk or something like it. The play seemed to be about Spain, but the set wasn’t right. The actress, a blond, clutched a silver box that seemed to open and close on its own. He tried to remember if Friar Laurence used a box in Romeo and Juliet, but he could barely recall the central themes of the play. Romeo and Juliet were lovers. He felt certain of that. But something happened. Something came between them. Was the friar the villain or the hero? He found himself hoping they’d be happy. They seemed to want it so much. Did they end up together? A great wave of unhappiness came over him as he pondered the other eventuality. Was he supposed to change the end? Could he do it if he wanted to?
Someone nudged his ankle.
The audience waited for his reaction. He tried to move, but his legs weighed a thousand pounds.
The person nudged harder.
“Mr. Kent?”
Michael opened his eyes to see a deeply concerned Nab standing over him under the eaves of the Morebright stables.
“You need to wake up,” the boy whispered. “I think Undine is in trouble.”