The next twenty-four hours are chaos. Rumors fly, texts go back and forth, and everyone is calling everyone else and passing notes during class. First they say Miranda is okay, then they says she’s in really bad shape, and there’s even a point during the morning when people say Miranda died because she landed on a nail, which turned into an infection, which turned into a flesh-eating disease. That rumor is quickly squashed, but it’s replaced with still more crazy rumors. Some of the techies are even betting on what the final diagnosis will be.
Finally Mr. Apple calls the cast and crew out of class for a meeting in the theater.
“I spoke with Miranda’s parents not five minutes ago,” Mr. Apple says when we’re all assembled. “I hope this will dispel the rumors that are circulating.”
The cast sits towards the front of the stage while the crew hangs back. I’m standing in the door of the Cave, half in shadow, with Reach next to me.
“She’s not dead,” Johanna says. “I talked to her.”
“You are correct,” Mr. Apple says. “She is very much alive.”
“I told you,” Half Crack whispers next to me, and Benno passes him a five-dollar bill.
“But she has broken her leg,” Mr. Apple says. “More than a break, really. A multiple fracture.”
“Miranda!” Johanna cries out as if her friend just went down in a plane crash.
“What’s the bad news?” Reach says.
I elbow him in the ribs.
“It’s severe enough that she will be unable to continue in the show,” Mr. Apple says.
He looks upset. He jams his fist into a bag of donuts, pulling out chunks of dough and pushing them into his mouth.
A wave of panic passes through me. What if the show is canceled? I imagine trying to get through the end of the school year without tech. There are only five weeks left, but five weeks without theater is like five years on a desert island.
“We’re screwed,” I say to Reach.
“Take it easy,” he says.
No theater, followed by a long summer.
There’s nothing easy about that.
“Couldn’t she do it on crutches?” Johanna says.
“I was willing,” Mr. Apple says, “but the doctor says it’s not to be.”
“What if she performs in a wheelchair?” Peter Mercurio says. Peter is the last of the four lovers, Lysander. Peter is gay, but you’d never know it unless he told you. He doesn’t even seem like an actor, more like a baseball player who wandered into the theater by mistake.
“A wheelchair is impossible given our stage configuration,” Mr. Apple says.
“How about on a computer monitor?” Derek says. “I could set up a multimedia platform onstage, and we could watch her performance on a laptop.”
“All excellent ideas,” Mr. Apple says. “None of them viable.”
“Why isn’t anyone talking about the techies?” Hubbard says. Hubbard is the short female actor who plays Puck. She’s usually funny, but she doesn’t seem funny right now. She points at us accusingly.
“This is all their fault. If they didn’t screw up, Miranda would still be here.”
“That’s true,” Peter says.
The actors turn and stare at us. At me in particular.
Why are they blaming me? I wasn’t even the one on spot.
Reach steps in front of me, blocking their way.
“It’s got nothing to do with us,” Reach says. “That circuit board is a piece of crap.”
“You mean the dimmer board,” I whisper to him.
For a lighting guy, that would be an embarrassing mistake. Lucky for Reach, he doesn’t have the embarrassment gene.
“The circuit board and the dimmer board! It’s all crap!” he shouts.
“Then fix it,” Johanna says. “We can’t do it for you.”
“We can’t act for you,” Benno says. “Why don’t you fix your performance?”
“Why don’t you fix your pants?” Jazmin says to Half Crack. “I’ve seen more of your ass than my baby brother’s.”
“Enough,” Mr. Apple says. He stuffs a chunk of glazed donut in his mouth. “I’ve got plenty to worry about without these little catfights.”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Derek says to Mr. Apple. “We’re going to act like professionals.”
Derek points at the techies.
“Am I right, gentlemen?”
We nod. Reach grumbles next to me.
“What does it matter?” Johanna says. “We’re screwed.”
“It’s going to be okay, honey,” Wesley says.
“Are you a doctor?” Johanna says. “Can you fix her?”
Derek clears his throat.
“You mentioned there was good news, Mr. Apple. We could certainly use some.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Apple says. “The good news is that we’re theater people, and theater people flourish in adversity. The show must go on.”
“But how can it go on without Miranda? She’s a lead,” Peter says.
“We’re going to have auditions,” Mr. Apple says.
“We’ve got three more days,” Johanna says. “That’s not enough time for someone to learn the role.”
“Exactly right,” Mr. Apple says. “We need someone who is already a part of the show, knows the blocking, is familiar with the lines.”
“Who?” Johanna says.
“One of the fairies,” Mr. Apple says.
A stir goes through the cast.
I look for the girl from the hall. She’s standing in the group of surprised fairies. She’s dressed like a normal girl now—jeans, tank top, hair flattened down rather than wild.
“Mr. Apple, I’d like to address the techies if I might,” Derek says.
“You have my blessing,” Mr. Apple says. “And now, without further ado…”
Mr. Apple hefts himself up. He tucks Carol Channing under one arm and his bag of donuts under the other.
“I’ve got a date with a bag of donuts, and I don’t want to disappoint.”
He heads for the theater doors.
“Prepare yourselves, actors,” he says over his shoulder. “We’ll have auditions first thing in the morning.”
He flings open the door, then looks back at the cast.
“Fate will smile on someone tomorrow,” he says.
Carol Channing snaps at the bag of donuts and he pulls her back fast.
“That’s not star behavior, Madam!” he says, and he goes out.
“Poor Miranda,” Jazmin says.
“We should go to the hospital and visit her,” Johanna says.
“Totally,” Hubbard says. “We can bring her a cake or something.”
“She loves chocolate,” Johanna says. “Dark chocolate.”
She bursts into tears. Wesley puts his arm around her, trying to comfort her.
“Come on, everyone,” Peter says.
“I need to speak with the crew,” Derek says. “I’ll meet you there. And I’ll pick up some flowers on the way.”
“Thanks, Derek,” Johanna says.
“Tech crew meeting in two minutes,” he says.
The actors wander out into the house, while the techies head backstage.
I remember the fan is still running on the spotlight.
“I’ll be right there,” I tell Reach. “I have to turn off the spot.”
I head for the ladder, and Johanna comes charging towards me.
“I know what you’re up to,” she says.
My mind goes through a rapid-fire list of things I might be guilty of. Looking down Miranda’s shirt. Standing near the dressing room door with Benno last show so we could get a peak at actresses changing. Popping my zits on the catwalk even though there are people below.
“I saw you up there before Miranda fell,” Johanna says.
“I had nothing to do with that. It was Mindy,” I say.
“You were running towards the light.”
“I was trying to stop her from making a mistake.”
“I don’t think so,” she says. “I think you’re trying to destroy the show. I saw Phantom of the Opera. I know how guys like you work. First the plan, then the mask, then the creepy stuff starts.”
“Why would I want to destroy the show?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Some weird techie vendetta.”
“That’s not true.”
“I’m watching you. We all are.”
She makes that motion, two fingers to her eyes, then one finger pointing at me.
We’re watching you.