I’m walking backstage before rehearsal the next day when I see a big empty box from Times Square Lighting pushed into a corner. I run out to the stage and look to the back of the theater.
It’s here.
A brand-new spotlight up on the catwalk, high over the audience’s heads. It’s a strange place for it because the position is a little too high, but I can see why they wouldn’t take the time to build a special platform for it. Still, I don’t know who set it up or if they knew what they were doing.
But I know it’s here now.
And I want it.
I make my way into the audience where Derek and Ignacio are going over cues.
“Excuse me, Derek,” I say.
“Well, well. The saboteur has emerged from his dark den,” he says with a grin.
I can’t tell if he’s serious or making a joke, so I keep talking.
“I noticed a new spotlight on the catwalk,” I say, “and I didn’t see it on the light plot.”
“That’s because it wasn’t there. I made an executive decision. With Mr. Apple’s blessing of course.”
“It looks new,” I say, because that’s very unusual for equipment at our level. For a public school, we have an impressive theater program. But our equipment is not exactly state of the art. More like state of decay. If we need something special for a show and there’s enough in the budget, we might get a temporary rental. But then the best we can hope for is something that hasn’t had the crap kicked out of it by a thousand other shows.
“It’s brand-new,” Derek says. “And it’s ours to keep. A gift from an anonymous donor.”
“Can you believe the luck?” Ignacio says.
Derek says, “It just so happens the donor shares a last name with yours truly.”
He winks at me.
“Even luck can use a bit of assistance from my father,” Derek says.
“So you’re going to need an op.”
I imagine my credit in the playbill:
ADAM ZIEGLER, SPOT OP.
I imagine the fairy girl reading my name and smiling.
“Why would I give you the spot when you mucked up my lights?” Derek says.
The actors pour into the theater, excited before their first walk-through.
“I’m already on lights,” I say to Derek. “It kind of makes sense.”
“It makes sense to you,” Derek says. “Not to me.”
“We have to get rolling,” Ignacio says. “I’ve got twelve things to do and five minutes to do them in.”
Derek doesn’t say anything. He just lets me stand there, my face burning.
“Places!” Ignacio shouts.
I don’t move.
“That includes you, Z,” Ignacio says.
He points into the air.