21
“DO SOMETHING!” BRIANNA SCREAMED.
She ran onto the stage and pushed aside the clot of people around Reese. Reese was on the floor, pinned by the flat. She had managed to get her hands underneath it and was struggling to push it away, but it was way too heavy. Its weight kept her nearly motionless while the turntable continued to move beneath her, pulling at her. Mr. Levin was trying to lift the flat and Brianna joined him.
“You’re hurting me!” Reese wailed.
“Push!” Mr. Levin said. Now Ms. Gunderson, Charles, Harrison, Vijay, and Kyle had wrapped their hands under the frame. “One . . . two . . . three . . . ”
They lifted. The flat rose a few inches, and Brianna pulled Reese free. As they all fell back, the rumbling turntable motor stopped—and as slowly as it came down, the flat rose again.
Casey stepped out from behind the curtain. Her face was ashen.
“A little late,” Reese said through gritted teeth.
“How do you feel?” Mr. Levin asked, kneeling beside her.
“Can you move your upper body?” Harrison asked.
Reese grimaced at Harrison. “Maybe you should help me find out.”
“She’s fine,” Charles said with a laugh.
“I’ll call the school nurse,” Ms. Gunderson said.
Mr. Levin and Ms. Gunderson helped Reese to her feet. She was testing all the parts of her body like a dancer, doing little isolation movements. Brianna looked up into the fly space. The flat was enormous. The fact that Reese got her hands underneath it was probably what had saved her from more serious injury.
“I’m all right,” Reese said, moving her injured arm in a circle. “I’ll probably get a big ugly hideous bruise . . . but the costume will cover it.”
Casey was staring at them from the side of the stage. She looked frightened, as if she were about to cry. “I’m so sorry . . . ”
“Do those headphones work, Casey?” Mr. Levin called out.
“Yes,” Casey squeaked.
Brianna could tell Mr. Levin was furious. But now that Reese was all right, his teacher instincts were taking over. “The show opens tomorrow, and this kind of thing cannot happen. I would like an ironclad reassurance.”
“It won’t happen,” Casey said.
“Let’s run the rest of the show—Reese, you can mark it, take it easy—and if I see one cue even partially late, I’m canceling all performances. Casey, I will see you after rehearsal.”
An hour later the hallways were silent. Casey sat spread-legged on the shiny floor, listening to the distant whir of a vacuum cleaner, thinking about what might have been. Reese could have been seriously hurt. The flat was humongous. Had she been an inch farther, it might have come down on her head.
Mr. Levin had cooled off a bit by the time he lectured her after the rehearsal. But Casey knew what she had done was unforgivable. It could have been much worse. She hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been too wrapped up in Kyle and her personal life.
Kara Chang of Westfield, Connecticut, was all about dedication and concentration. She would have fixed the problem long ago. But Casey Chang was different—way too often she was scared and tentative, like a person with a layer of skin peeled off.
Before the talk with Kyle, Casey hadn’t really understood all this. Now she saw it clearly. She understood why she had made this mistake. She had jumped into this position too early. She hadn’t been ready to be a person again, let alone a stage manager. No wonder Brianna had been so pissed at her. Brianna forced you to be yourself, like it or not. And Casey hadn’t been able to do that. Her self had been buried too deep.
She needed time to dig it out. Time to let a scab form over the shock and grief. To rebuild her trust in herself, so that eventually others could trust her, too. To do nothing except the quiet, normal things. To heal.
She could still get that time. But a person had to give to get. And there was one thing she needed to do.
With careful penmanship, Casey finished up her note. Charles was still inside with the Charlettes, Harrison, and Brianna. Everyone else had left.
Dear Mr. Levin, Ms. Gunderson, and the DC,
First of all, I want to apologize for my mistake. I am so sorry for what happened—Reese, please forgive me. There is no excuse for what I did.
Second, I just want you to know I care about this fantastic play very much and I have made every contribution I could. My only goal has always been to help. So it is with deep thought that I have decided the best thing to do is resign, effective immediately. Dashiell will run the cues much better than I could do, and Charles and the Charlettes will easily pick up the other chores.
These have been two of the most wonderful months of my life. I hope I gave you half as much as you all gave me.
Break a leg. I love you.
Sincerely,
Casey Chang
If she read it one more time, she was going to break out crying.
She signed it, folded it, and put it in an envelope.
The theater was eerily quiet as she walked inside and onto the stage. The houselights were on, and Casey stood there looking at the seats, soaking it in for the last time. From behind her a tune began. Cold Play. “You Belong to Me.” It was coming from the costume/prop room.
She stepped backstage and peeked inside. Charles, Harrison, Brianna, Vijay, and a couple of other Charlettes were sitting at the table. The Afro wigs, which had arrived today, were on the top shelf, the only place they fit. In the center of the table was Charles’s iPod, playing the music on a docking station. On the floor were two buckets full of shiny sequins.
Everyone was sewing sequins onto shirts and pants. As the garments moved, the wall sparkled with light. “What’s this?” Casey asked.
“Costumes for the final scene,” Charles said.
“But the cast doesn’t change costumes for that scene,” Casey said.
“It does now.” Harrison smiled. “We close the show with ‘You Are the Light of the World.’ We’re supposed to send everyone home with hope and happiness.”
“And what says hope and happiness more than sequins?” Charles said with a shrug. He had drawn plans and laid them on the table. The vests were all broad shoulders and angles, ablaze with light.
Casey fiddled with her envelope. “I—I have something I wanted to show you,” she said.
“What is it?” Charles asked distractedly.
“You, um, have to read it,” she said.
Charles held out a needle and thread. “Can it wait?” he asked. “We need another seamstress here.”
The Cold Play song ended and a soft, haunting recording of “Amazing Grace” began.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I’m found,
Was blind, but now I see.”
One by one, the Drama Club members began to sing harmony. Casey heard a sweet, strong voice lift over the others and realized it was the first time she had heard Brianna sing. She was wonderful.
Brianna looked up, deep in thought, and smiled. It was the first time she had smiled at Casey in a week. Maybe a mistake, maybe she was thinking about something else. But it felt good.
The vests were taking shape. The room glowed and hummed. Casey took it all in. It had been a long two months. She was a different person now than on that first day. The Drama Club felt like family to her.
The room felt like home.
Casey folded her envelope, put it in her pocket, and began to sew.