Public opinion is a giant which has frightened stouter-hearted Jacks on bigger bean-stalks than hers.
—Little Women
You sure you don’t mind?” I asked David. In one hand I held a tub of body glitter; the other was pressed against his bare chest.
“It’s fine.” He shivered. “A little cold.” Goose bumps trailed down his arms, following the path my fingers had taken while painting his torso in iridescent swirls. In the last-minute scramble to transform a towering distance runner into an ethereal fairy messenger, the silver leotard had been a no-go for obvious anatomical reasons, but we’d managed to strap him into the gauzy wings and tie scarves to his belt loops in a makeshift tutu. At Laurie’s insistence (“sun’s out, guns out, bro”), David was going shirtless instead of attempting an undershirt-and-wings combo.
“Kinda slimy, too.” I added a glittery streak across his stomach. “Like snail trails.”
His laugh vibrated under my hand. Our emergency truce might have been temporary in his mind, but I had no intention of letting David slip away again. He was stuck with me for good.
“Get a room,” Amy whispered. “Or step aside and let a real artist take over.”
“Dream on.” No way was I letting another of my sisters get her dirty paws on David.
She held up a pair of scissors. “Do we need to shave him?”
He stilled beneath my hand, no doubt imagining the snip of Amy cutting off one of his nipples.
“No,” David and I said in unison.
“It would be faster than you trying to rub off his chest hair.”
“I’m handling it,” I told her.
She snorted. “I’ll say.”
I sent her a death glare. “You don’t send someone into battle without armor.”
There was a beat of silence before David’s huff of amusement, which made me choke out a laugh too, even though my head was about to explode from tension.
“Who needs the shield of righteousness when you can have this?” He did jazz hands in front of his torso.
“You both suck,” Amy hissed, stamping her foot. “Just hurry up. This isn’t a massage parlor.”
Ignoring my sister, I circled a finger at David, who turned so I could do his back. It really gave a sense of scale when you had to cover the whole shoulder-to-shoulder expanse on someone his size. We’d need to restock our supply of shimmery slime before the next show.
“This is like half of the prom experience right here,” I murmured as I coated what would have been love handles on someone with a different BMI. “Body glitter and a floofy skirt.”
There was a pause during which I worried I’d pushed too far in my rush to pretend everything was normal.
“Funnily enough, this is what I was planning to wear,” he said after a beat, making me snort so hard I probably inhaled glitter.
David turned to face me, holding the wand out to one side. “What do you think?”
“Sparkly.” I dabbed glitter on the end of his nose.
“How about my hair?”
“Good idea.” Stretching onto my tiptoes, I dragged my fingers from the roots to the end, shaping spiky pastel tufts at his hairline.
“I meant, how does it look.”
“Ah. Well, it looks awesome now.” I punched him lightly in the shoulder, careful not to smudge the glitter. “Break a leg.”
“And now,” Mom’s voice trumpeted from the stage, “a very special performance of an Operatic Tragedy, set in a gloomy wood. Written by Jo March.”
From my vantage point backstage I heard a horrified, “An opera?”
“It’s part of the play,” hissed a voice I recognized as belonging to my English teacher, Ms. Reyes.
“Then why did she say it was an opera?”
“There’s a play within the play, like a matryoshka. It’s meta. Now zip it.”
My palms were still tingling as David slipped around the curtain. It was either an allergic reaction to the body glitter or sympathetic nerves. All he had to do was introduce the major players. Since he’d seen this show a million times, that shouldn’t be too hard, assuming he didn’t choke under the pressure.
“Before we begin our dark and desolate tale,” David said in a strained falsetto, “meet the heroes and knaves whose fates will play out upon our stage.” On the synthesizer, Beth played a quick musical theme full of stormy chords and heavy reverb.
“First, the lovely Zara.”
As Amy pranced onto the stage, twirling so the long sleeves of her satin gown fanned around her, Beth broke into a sprightly tune I recognized as “I Feel Pretty.”
“Next up,” David continued, briefly forgetting to speak in a high voice, “the handsome Roderigo, beloved of Zara.”
That was Laurie’s cue to jog out from behind the curtain, raising his clasped hands above his head like a boxing champ. His background music was “We Are the Champions,” though you could hardly hear it over the squeals and catcalls from the students in the audience. They’d seen him in tights on the football field, but the effect was very different when paired with a ruffled shirt and the fake sword dangling at his hip.
“And now,” David said, catching my eye, “let’s give a boo and a hiss to Hugo, rival for Zara’s affections!” Beth played “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” as I swaggered onto the stage, cupping my hands in a bring it gesture when the audience booed. After a fake bow, I snuck back behind the curtain, winking at David as I passed. He was killing it so far, beyond even the comedy gold of seeing someone so tall and gangly dressed like Tinker Bell.
“And last but not least,” he finished, “the witchiest witch this side of a broomstick—Hagar!”
Beth plinked out the Wicked Witch theme from The Wizard of Oz before shuffling out in front of the curtain in her long black dress and ratty gray wig.
“This is so pathetic,” Amy complained as we waited for Beth/Hagar to finish whatever she was doing to make the audience bust a gut.
“Her natural comedic timing?”
“She’s showing off for her alleged girlfriend. Who probably doesn’t exist.”
“How do you figure?”
“Like a junior would date Barf. She’s clearly delusional, hence why she’s acting like the main character.”
“Hate to break it to you, Princess Generica, but the witch is a much juicier part than the damsel in distress.” I elbowed her. “Maybe you should switch. You’d make a very natural Hagar.”
The curtains creaked open. The shabby living-room furniture had been replaced by a few potted plants and a flat cardboard tree, our nod to the “gloomy wood” setting. As Amy slipped out of sight to wait for her cue, I strode forward to address Beth, who was squatting near the front of the stage pretending to stir the contents of a plastic cauldron.
“What ho, minion.” I waited for the laughter that always followed the word ho to die down before finishing the line. “I need thee!”
Hagar turned to the audience and rolled her eyes. “What a charmer. Calls me a ho, then asks for a favor. We’ll see how well that works out for him.” She threw her head back and cackled. And then cackled some more, until she choked on her own spit.
I seized the opening. “I require two potions—and a side of fries.” My wink at the audience was accompanied by a saucy hip thrust. “The first will make the beauteous Zara fall madly in love with me. And the second?” I paused, stroking my chin. There hadn’t been time to stick on the fake beard. “A foul poison to steal the life from that rogue Roderigo!”
At the mention of Roderigo, Beth clutched her heart and made kissy faces, earning another chorus of laughter from the audience.
“Well, witch?” I snapped my fingers at her. “I don’t have all day.”
Beth gave a phlegmy harrumph. “Keep your panties on—magic takes time.” Turning to address the crowd, she added, “I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine!”
While I pretended to clean my fingernails with a dagger, David flitted onto the stage in his fairy outfit to deliver two perfume bottles, one clear and the other black. Beth took them from him and held them out to me.
“Here you go, Your Greasiness. Two potions, hot and fresh for all your evil needs.”
Clutching the potions, I exited stage right. The curtain closed on the witch shrieking, “He’s cursed! Cursed, I tell you! Cursed! Soon I will have my revenge! Ha-ha-ha!”
Backstage, David and I dragged Zara’s “tower” into place. Amy tapped her foot as she watched us work, lunging for the bottom rung as soon as we’d lined up the legs with the masking-tape marks.
When the curtain opened, Amy’s head was sticking through the hole in the cardboard that approximated Zara’s window. She preened as the audience broke into spontaneous applause, though any reasonable person could see they were clapping for Laurie, who had strolled into view from stage left, ukulele in hand. He swept his red cloak over one shoulder before strumming a few notes.
Beth cranked up the synthesizer, and together they launched into Roderigo’s serenade, for which Laurie had chosen to croon “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.” Singing wasn’t even in the top five in his arsenal of charms, but he knew how to sell a ballad. Amy wasn’t the only one fanning herself as the last notes died away.
“Babe,” Laurie said when the whistling and stomping of feet from the audience faded. “You know I love you. Run away with me?”
“Leave my home and my father and this lavishly appointed tower? That’s quite a commitment.” Amy wrapped a lock of hair around her finger. “Okay, fine, you talked me into it. Take me away, Roderigo!”
Since Laurie was almost as tall as our “tower,” all Amy had to do was hold out her arms and wait. After setting down his ukulele, Laurie pushed his sleeves back and flexed a few times. That got such a big reaction, he did a few lunges as he crossed the stage.
“Oh, Roderigo!” Amy’s smile was tight. Not even Laurie could upstage her without taking his life in his hands. “The hour grows late, and you walk so slowly. What if my father, Don Pedro, discovers us?”
“I’m coming, my dove! Fear not. Soon you will be in my big, beefy arms.”
From backstage came the sound of a synthesized burlesque riff. Laurie added a little salsa to his hips.
“That’s it,” Amy snapped. “I’ll rescue myself.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, rising in volume as Amy stuck a leg through the “window” of her tower and the whole contraption wobbled.
“Wait, my angel,” Laurie cried, arms outstretched. “You might hurt yourself!”
The tower shook as she worked her other leg through the opening. “Ready or not, here I come!”
With a grunt and a twist, Amy dropped. She probably would have made it safely to the floor if Laurie hadn’t panicked and tried to grab her on the way down. They ended up with his arms around her thighs, like figure skaters doing a lift. As he staggered back and forth, trying to regain his balance, Amy windmilled her arms, alternately beaming at the audience and hissing instructions at Laurie.
I assumed his athletic skills would save the day, but I hadn’t factored in the ukulele. With a crunch of wood and twanging of strings, he crushed it underfoot, attempted to correct course, and then started falling to the side. When Amy grabbed hold of the tower to slow their descent, the top half ripped off, bringing the ladder with it.
Laurie hit the floor first. I winced in sympathy as Amy landed on top of him, followed by a slab of cardboard. We all jumped as the ladder crashed onto the stage, missing the two of them by inches.
“Oh no,” Laurie groaned, sitting up and dusting himself off. “I injured myself in the fall!” He grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands and ripped it down the middle. After pausing to let the audience feast their eyes, he patted his stomach like he might have sprained his abs.
“Let me see.” Amy slapped his hands aside so she could inspect his pecs for herself. “Looks good to me.” She waggled her brows at the audience.
“Get it, LB!” yelled a voice from the crowd, as laughter gave way to general applause.
Backstage, David and I exchanged a look of amazement.
What the, I mouthed.
I know, his eyebrows replied.
Somehow, our ragtag crew had pulled off the heist of the century. The audience thought we’d done all of that on purpose. While the hooting and whistling continued out front, I launched myself at David. Our stand-in fairy had saved the day, and for that he deserved a python squeeze. It was a little tricky with the wings, but I managed to maneuver my arms around his waist, getting a face full of sparkly chest hair.
“Too bad you weren’t dressed like this on the bridge.”
“I don’t think the wings are functional, Jo.”
“It’s the glitter.” I leaned back far enough to swipe at his ribs. “You’re a lot less slippery this way. It’s like when they put that scratchy stuff on the bottom of a bathtub.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time someone jumps me.” He ran his thumb over my forehead, the other arm still loosely around my side. “Speaking of glitter.”
I shrugged at the evidence on his hand, and also smeared across the front of my pirate shirt. Iridescent stains seemed like a small problem compared to the disaster we’d just dodged.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “About the other night.”
“I asked; you said no. There’s nothing to apologize for.” He gave an abbreviated shrug. “Well, you didn’t exactly say it, but I got the message.”
I flicked him in the ribs. “I’m a good communicator.”
“With your fists, yes.” His eyes were laughing as he grabbed my hand to keep me from striking again. “It’s okay, Jo. Words are hard.”
“Hey,” said Hudson’s voice as he ducked behind the curtain. His smile faded when he realized I wasn’t alone. “Oh. Sorry. My bad.” He started to leave.
“Wait.” Realizing how it must have looked (like the cover of a very strange romance novel), I stepped away from David’s bare chest. “I was just thanking David for saving our butts.”
I waited for Hudson to acknowledge the shocking success of the performance, though admittedly he didn’t have the same frame of reference. Judging by the way he was staring at my rear end, his brain had gotten stuck on the word butt. I blamed the cheek-isolating properties of my fake leather pants. A wedgie, but make it fashion!
David cleared his throat.
“How’s your sister?” Hudson asked, remembering I had a face.
“Fine.” I hesitated, wondering what Mom was telling people. Food poisoning, maybe. Or a tragic exfoliating accident. “I mean, she will be. Probably.”
“Jo,” David said. It sounded like a warning.
Right. Because protecting poor little Meg was everyone’s top priority. I’d filled him in between acts on the scene in Meg’s bedroom, expecting him to share my outrage, but he mostly looked sad.
“You know Meg.” I forced a closed-lip smile. “She’s always flaking out on stuff.”
“I was talking about Amy. Falling off the ladder like that.” Hudson cocked his head, like he could smell a story. “What’s up with Meg?”
“Amy’s fine,” I said, as if I’d only heard the first part. “She has a really hard head. All of her bones are extremely hard, actually.” It was amazing my organs were intact.
“So Meg was supposed to be the fairy?” Hudson flapped his hands like wings. “That’s why you were looking for her.”
“Uh, Jo, shouldn’t we go take our bows?” David reached for my arm like he wanted to pull me away from this conversation. From the stage we heard Amy and Laurie belting the opening lyrics to “A Whole New World.” Someone (it sounded like Beth) yelled, “All together now!” and the audience joined in.
I swallowed bile. “I’m not going out there.”
“Did you find Meg or is she still MIA?” Hudson persisted.
“It’s a family thing.” David was trying to help, but he might as well have waved a red flag that said SECRETS! That plus the macho stare-down the two of them were doing almost made me reconsider the sing-along. Stand here and lie for Meg, or go out there and pretend to be a Disney princess? Choices!
It was all so stupid. Acting on top of acting, spinning the truth. By this time tomorrow, Mom would have reframed the entire incident as a heartwarming story about banding together to overcome adversity. And if I pointed out that there was a difference between adversity and choosing to be a truant and screwing over your family, she would tell me not to dwell on the negative.
I was sick of pretending. Hudson wasn’t going to shriek and clutch his pearls over the fact that Meg and her brainless posse had been day drinking during a school field trip, like the world’s stupidest criminals.
“Meg and her friends were off getting wasted.”
David’s mouth thinned to a disappointed line, but he didn’t try to stop me.
“That’s why she couldn’t do the show. Our standards aren’t high, but you do have to be conscious.”
Hudson gave a low whistle. “Your mom must be pissed.”
I shrugged. My mother wasn’t like Andrea, ready to drop harsh truths at a moment’s notice, especially where her eldest was concerned. At most, Mom would give Meg the greeting-card version of a lecture.
“Will she get kicked out?”
“Of the show?” As if. Nobody was getting out of here that easily.
“School,” Hudson corrected, and a faint chill settled in my gut. Even if by some miracle the teachers hadn’t noticed Meg’s idiot friends skipping the show, they were bound to be suspicious when they giggled and stumbled onto the bus. Or threw up in the aisle. Mad as I was at Meg, I didn’t want anything too terrible to happen to her.
A little community service, maybe.
“Where did they even get that stuff? Does Meg have a fake ID?” I couldn’t help glancing at David, who shook his head. He didn’t know either.
“Was it prosecco?” Hudson asked.
“Maybe?” I couldn’t tell whether his slight wince meant it was extra strong or extra bad, like the Natty Light of wines. “Why?”
“Andrea brought it. She wanted to have a little celebration tonight, after the show.”
“Like a cast party?” Once again, I heard the wind whistle through the bottomless canyon between what Andrea was used to (in this case, The Theater) and our world.
“Kind of an all-purpose thing. Thank you for having us. And, you know, goodbye.”
“You’re throwing yourselves a going-away party?” David shook his head.
“It sounds like maybe we should stick around,” Hudson said with a little edge. “See how things play out.”
“I don’t think that’s relevant.” David crossed his arms, still doing that weird older-brother bit. Unless it was a protective-ex thing.
Either way, I’d had enough. I tossed my wig onto the prop table.
“Where are you going?” David called after me.
“Somewhere else.”