The entire tech crew stuffs itself into the Cave to wait for Derek. I look at the Techie Wall of Fame, covered with our pictures. I was proud when Reach got me onto the wall. I felt like I belonged. I had a purpose. It was two years ago, but it seems like another lifetime.
Derek strides in with a clipboard in his hands.
“Where’s Mindy?” he says. He scans the room for the little spot op.
“Right here,” she says, throwing him a big smile. “I’m really sorry—”
“You’re off spot,” Derek says.
“No way,” she says.
“Yes way,” he says, and turns his back on her.
Her face cracks and tears well up in her eyes.
“But you promised—” she pleads.
He spins around and shushes her like he’s silencing a child.
I look across the room at Grace. She bites her lip.
Mindy jumps up and runs out of the room.
“That was harsh, dude,” Half Crack says in a whisper.
Derek snaps him a look.
“Harsh. The entire tech program is about to go down the drain, and you think I’m being harsh?”
“I’m not the one who hired her,” Half Crack says.
Derek steps back like he’s been hit. I wince, waiting for him to attack. Instead he lifts his hands to the air like he’s surrendering.
“Fair enough,” Derek says. “I made an error in judgment. Even the best have their off days. But that’s ancient history. The question before us now is: what’s next?”
The room is silent.
“People are going to see this show. Important people,” Derek says.
“Like your dad?” someone says under their breath.
“My father will be here to see my work. It’s true. But think about what’s at stake for all of us.”
He paces the room, looking from face to face.
“It’s not just my work up there. It’s our work. The techie reputation is on the line. We may not be LaGuardia Arts, but damn it, we’re Montclair. We can give them a run for their money!”
The faces in the room soften.
“I need your help to get us back on track. I can’t do it without you, fellows.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and then Benno says, “We can’t let it go down like this.”
I notice a bunch of techies looking at Reach. Derek notices, too, because he says:
“What do you think, Mr. Patel?”
Reach leans back, crosses his arms.
“I think if this show goes down the crapper, it shouldn’t be for technical reasons.”
“I’m with you on that,” Half Crack says.
Heads nod around the room.
“What are we going to do?” Ignacio says.
Reach stands up.
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he says. “I’m going to suck in my nuts and tech this mofo!”
The techies cheer.
“Brilliant,” Derek says, patting Reach on the back.
Reach looks at me and shrugs his bony shoulders, like, What else can we do?
“Thank you so much, Rishekesh. That was quite inspiring,” Derek says. “To begin, I need a new spot op. Someone who knows his business.”
Grace’s arm shoots up.
“I didn’t realize you were still here,” Derek says to her.
“I’m a techie,” Grace says.
“Not for long,” Benno whispers.
A few chuckles around the room.
“Any other volunteers?” Derek says.
Four or five hands rise.
Reach nudges me. I consider raising my hand, but I don’t. Derek already knows I want it, and that all but guarantees he won’t give it to me. Begging is just going to make it worse.
Derek studies the faces in the room.
“Let me think on it,” he says. “And meanwhile, I ask you to think about how we can make this show better. Together.”
The techies grunt their agreement. Derek heads for the door, pausing when he sees me.
I get this crazy thought that he’s going to ask for my help. He’ll put his arm around me and say, We have to let bygones be bygones. I want you on my team, Z.
“My beamer,” he says.
“I haven’t had a chance—” I say.
“I’m starting to wonder where your loyalties lie,” he says, and he walks out.
“All right, everyone,” Ignacio says. “Get a good night’s sleep. There’s going to be work to do in the next few days. Lots and lots of work.”
He gets this wild, panicked look in his eyes and starts scribbling on a yellow pad.
“You’d better fill up that beamer,” Ignacio says as he rushes by me.
“Better him than me,” Half Crack says.
“Nobody wants to see you bending over and pumping gas,” Benno says.
“Why not?” Half Crack says, oblivious.
The techies shuffle from the room. Grace grabs a chunk of wall next to me.
“I can’t tell if Derek is evil or a genius,” I say.
“I think he’s an evil genius,” she says. “But did you see me volunteer? And I hate him! Why would I volunteer?”
“Why would any of us?”
“That’s the genius part,” Grace says. “He makes people love him, too.”
And then she moans like she has a stomachache.
Reach walks over, arms crossed. He looks from Grace to me.
“Do you know Grace?” I say.
“I know of her,” he says.
Grace looks at the floor.
“She’s good people,” I say.
“Good at what?” he says.
He and Grace look at each other in a silent standoff.
“I’m going to bolt,” she says to me.
“See you tomorrow,” I say.
“So the rumor is true,” Reach says when she’s gone.
“What rumor?”
“The rumor I haven’t told you about yet, but is somehow making you turn bright red. The one about you in the Cave with a certain girl.”
“There was no girl.”
“So Grace wasn’t in there with you.”
“She was there, but she’s not a girl. I mean she’s a girl, but I don’t think of her that way.”
Reach sighs, rolls up his sleeves.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Reach says. “Techie love is a beautiful thing. But not Grace. She’s on our Do Not Call list.”
“She kissed Derek. It’s not like she has cancer.”
“It’s worse than cancer. She’s infected with Derek. What if a speck of his spit is left inside her mouth, and you get too close and it sprays on you? It’s like you had sex with Derek instead of her.”
“They didn’t have sex.”
“How do you know? Because she told you they didn’t? Forgive me, buddy, but you’re a little naïve about these things.”
Maybe Reach is right. But Grace is still my friend.
I say, “I don’t think you should be criticizing Grace right now. At least not for sucking up to Derek.”
“What does that mean?” Reach says.
“You gave him what he wanted.”
“I didn’t do it for him,” Reach says. “I did it for us. For our reputation.”
“If we look good, he looks good.”
“Welcome to techie hell. Our entire job is to make someone else look like a star. Those are the rules of the game.”
“Maybe I’m tired of the rules,” I say.
“Let’s discuss this on the walk home,” Reach says.
“I still have work to do.”
“But my mother is making chicken tikka,” he says.
Reach thinks I love his mother’s chicken tikka, probably because I always tell him I do. The truth is it gives me gas.
“Maybe we can walk together tomorrow,” I say.
He sighs, gives me a little salute, and heads out.
I feel a pang in my chest. Reach and I used to walk home from rehearsal together every day. We’d talk about people, discuss tech theory, and plan our future conquests of girls and theater. Most of the time we’d get home then call each other again just to continue the conversation.
At some point we stopped doing that. It wasn’t us. It was me. I was the one who stopped. I can’t even remember when it happened. It’s one of those weird relationship things—you never decide to do it, but it happens anyway. It’s not until much later that you realize something changed. By then it’s too late.