Wren goes silent. She knows I'm right. Touches, bumps on the arm--she and Roz had already figured out those were fine when they did the history test. But a kiss? That's much more. That could be like walking through a ghost on any given night--when, with the chill, the instant sight, you suddenly realize you're not alone. And we needed Duey to think that throughout the play, I was up there on that stage alone.
Chapter 27
"Girls. Boys. Attention, please. Thank you. I know we haven't gotten through all of Act One today, and I know we are running short on time, but I'd like to run through the final scenes in Act Two."
Crap. The scene Wren can't do.
I look around at the theater. Where is she? She said she'd be back in a minute, but that was five minutes ago. Sure, she can't do the scene, but I don't want her showing up in the middle of it, thinking she needs to help me, and jump in at the worst possible moment.
"The reason is...." Diggs continues, holding his hands in the air until everyone stops talking. "The reason is that this is the climax of our story. This is what we are all working toward. This is where our characters are most alive. This is where their dreams are either made, or shattered. And as actors, as thorough actors, we need to understand what attaining or losing those dreams means."
Well. I know what it means to me. It means I've got to lie down on this stage on my own and look dead, which I'm hoping will not be all that hard.
"Nelle's dream is different from Prince Bastian's dream," Diggs continues, "which is different from Witch Ekatera's, which is different from King Wester's, and even those of the soldiers. We have to understand what each one of us is working toward."
I'm working toward not being kissed. At least, that's what I'd like to work toward. If I weren't going to be kissed, then Wren could be Nelle through the whole play.
Diggs spins from the table at the side of the stage with his script binder in hand. "If you could all take your places.... Narrator. Nelle. Soldiers One, Two, Three. Prince Bastian.... We're in the scene after Witch Ekatera, in a fit of jealousy, has just ordered her soldiers to go to the bakery to do our poor heroine in."
He looks over at Londyn, who is hesitating at stage-right. "Yes, Londyn, that's fine, right there. Pretend we have an audience." He spins his hands forward, gesturing her to start speaking in her role as narrator, when Brittley jumps up at the back of the stage, swinging her blue-and-white-striped binder from her hip.
Her shirt is also blue. But her pants--we're talking big diet RISK here--are khaki. She strides to the front of the stage. "So, you don't need me?"
"No." Diggs steps down to his seat at stage-left.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. This is the start of scene five, Act two. Not the end of scene four."
Londyn is waiting by the curtain. He gives her a nod. "Whenever you're ready. Places, everyone!"
I grab a brown plastic tray and stand near the right side of the stage, wishing that the counters for the bakery scene were set up. At least I'd have something to stand behind, instead of looking like a fool in the middle of nothing. Everyone else gets to wait for their cues behind the curtains.
Londyn clears her throat. "The soldiers set out at once. It was easy to find the bakery. As her new friendship with Prince Bastian had blossomed, so had Nelle's passion for baking. The aromas of a thousand different dishes drew the soldiers to the stoves where she labored.
"But even the promise of baklavas and Danishes, mincemeats and stews could not soften the savagery of their mission."
With her introduction to the scene finished, Londyn nods with a smile and steps aside. Soldier One, played by a boy named Nate Bilyard, emerges from the eaves.
"There she is!" he says, thrusting a finger toward me. "The monster with the head of a goat!"
Yes, one of my better qualities. Thank God I'm not wearing the mask now.
Although it suddenly occurs to me. Maybe I should be? It might help.
Soldier Two steps forward and stamps his foot. "The beast with the flesh of a snake!"
Even more lovely.
Soldier Three raises his arm as if to swing a sword. "The creature with the hump of a camel! Surround her!"
I drop my tray and run to the back of the stage where I pretend to climb stairs--which I'm told will be set up tomorrow. I let out a cry for, "help!" but at the moment, I can't tell if that's just me reacting out of fear, or if it's something that's really a part of the play. I can't remember. But with the soldiers in quick pursuit, waving their bows and arrows, it really does feel like I'm in trouble. As they take aim, I do my best to hide behind a wood bench.
"Hold your fire!" Duey runs to the center of the stage.
But the arrow from Soldier Three flies and it hits... (imagination working), and I get to play dead. (Finally!)
With my heart beating its way out of my chest, with concrete spilling into my lungs, pretending to be dead is a welcome experience.
"You will pay for your treason at the gallows!" Duey yells.
The soldiers retreat, whispering amongst themselves, as Duey kneels, slipping his arm under my neck, making my pulse quicken even more.
"Forgive me, my Lady, I have failed." He looks at me as if I'm the sorriest thing he's ever seen, which I hope is all part of the act.
My eyes dart from his, as I swallow, "There you are my silly friend, my silly prince, calling me--a woman who's no more than a goat--a lady."
Diggs clears his throat. "Louder, please! Even with a microphone, no one will be able to hear you. I know you're dying, I know, but you've still got to speak your lines loudly and clearly, as you've always done. Remember, however, there is a balance. While I want you to be loud, you still need to make your imminent death believable to the audience."
I huff. My imminent death. Like I really know how that feels. Well, fine. If he wants loud, I'll do loud.
"There you are!" I yell. "My silly friend of a prince! Still calling me a lady!" It occurs to me that I said it wrong before. Or, maybe I'm saying it wrong now. I don't know.
A grin spreads across Duey's face, as he tries not to laugh, and matches his voice to my own. "To me, you always will be! My fair lady!"
I can't help but giggle at our yelling at each other. Is this right? Is this how you act when you're dying on a stage?
Okay, it's not right. Diggs is telling us to take it down a notch.
I gasp for a breath, put a hand to my head. "My time is at an end, my dear friend. Who now will see to your pastries?!"
"Focus!" Diggs trumpets from the floor, as we laugh. "I need you to be serious."
Duey moves his hand awkwardly under my head to lift me up.
I know I'm not helping. For someone who's dying, I'm not all that limp and lifeless.
"Slide your arm under her neck and shoulders," Diggs says. "It will look more natural. And, Nelle, relax. You look like you're trying to get away from him.
"Good," Diggs adds, after I let myself fall against Duey's shoulder. "Line, please."
"My dear, Nelle!" Duey says, tilting his head to look me in the eyes--just before I close them. "You can't leave me! I love you! I'd do anything to save your life! I love you!"
I hold my breath, as my stomach goes all queasy hearing those words. This is where he's supposed to kiss me, but he doesn't. He's waiting. Thank God, he's waiting. Because even though the lines were easy, the thought of the kiss isn't.
With a quick peek, I see him looking questioningly at Diggs.
"Yes, yes, the kiss," Diggs says, "which is followed by a brilliant flash of light, and the transformation of Nelle into our new princess Nella Rose." He glances at his watch. "We can skip that for now, seeing as we're out of time."
Pushing myself up on my knees, I roll away from Duey. He jumps up, apparently as relieved as I am. "Uh, Mr. Diggs?" I say. "About that. What if we don't have it?"
"Not have what?"
"The kiss."
Disbelief fills his face.
"What if we just leave it at a declaratio
n of love. Save me with that. Couldn't that be enough?"
Brittley strides over to me with her blue and white binder. "How could it be enough? All fairy tales end with a kiss."
"Which is why ours should be different."
"The story is what's different, Myri," Brittley says with a roll of her eyes. "Not the kiss."
"I just don't see why we need it," I retort, copying her attitude with a flip of my head.
I turn to Diggs. After all, he's the one in charge. Not Brittley.
But she keeps talking. "I don't see why you should care, Myri. About the kiss? After all, Duey is your boyfriend now, isn't he? At least, that's what he told me. That he's your boyfriend." She brings her hands coyly up in front of her chest, making a heart with her thumbs and fingers for everyone to see. "Why shouldn't you want to kiss him?"
My mouth drops open, as my ears, my head, my chest burn with heat. I let out a little huff, not knowing what to say.
"Why in the world would you want to take out the kiss?" Diggs walks to the edge of the stage to look up at me.
And I thought teachers were supposed to be smart.
Brittley ignores him. "You are dating him, aren't you?"
"No." I catch Duey's hurt look of surprise, Brittley's smug look of satisfaction. "I mean, yes. I mean--"
Cass stands up from the seats in the second row, clearly trying to understand what's going on. I throw my hands up in frustration. "What does it matter? That's not the point! I was just thinking about what Mr. Diggs was saying about not being able to hear our lines. If we change the last scene, have Duey declare his love for me, we could fix it." I realize what I've said too late.
"Declare his love for you?!" Cam guffaws, coming over from the side of the stage to knock Duey on the arm.
"Nelle, I mean! Have him declare his love for Nelle... while he's yelling at the soldiers! Then we wouldn't have to worry about the balance of our voices, if they're too low, or too high. We could all be angry and yelling at each other. Duey angry at them for shooting me. Me angry at them for shooting me...."
Diggs rubs his forehead, lets out a bewildered laugh. "I don't think so."
"No, wait! This could be perfect," Brittley says, batting her hand in front of her with a sly smile. "Myri may be on to something. Because even though her idea seems stupid, it actually may be a very good one. It ties into what I've been thinking all along!"
She puts her binder down on the floor, so that she can explain with both hands. "Wouldn't it be great if we could change the play? I mean, everyone knows Myri isn't exactly thrilled about stepping in front an audience. It might be better if she could just continue to stay hidden until the very end."
Brittley smiles broadly, opens a hand in my direction. "We really don't need to see her. In fact, if we change the story a little, we don't need to see her at all. We could let her curse be the thing that brings me and Duey together.
"And it wouldn't be that hard!" Brittley continues, seeing she has Diggs's attention. "We could make it so that Ekatera is also cursed--that she was cursed at the same time as Nelle, and that they are actually in a competition to see who can get un-cursed first!
"And Nelle could lose because she's too shy about showing her goatsy face to the prince. But in the end, just to show how nice everyone is, Prince Bastian and I--Ekatera, I mean--could let her move back to the castle, where she can cook and clean in the kitchen for us. We'd all be living happily ever after.
"And," she adds, throwing me a wicked grin, "I wouldn't mind ending the play with a kiss."
Diggs rubs his thumb along a seam in the floor boards of the stage, shakes his head. He opens his mouth to speak, but his chin wavers a moment on his chest. Finally, he looks up at us, first at me, then at Brittley. "You want to rewrite the play?"
Brittley nods enthusiastically. "It wouldn't be all that much work. I can start right now." She picks up her binder, detaches its pen.
Diggs spreads his fingers, clasps his hands, pumps them in front of his chest. "But if we did that, we'd need to create a whole new villain. Incorporate two villains into our story. You and this other..." He waves his hand up in the air.
"Witch," Cass finishes for him.
Crap.
I steal a glance in her direction. Her eyes are cold and unflinching. "Maybe they should just switch roles," she adds, her voice hard. "It may be a better fit with the latest developments."
Diggs rolls his eyes to the ceiling, walks a few paces away before spinning back. "I can't believe this. In all my years of directing plays...." His voice trails off. Resting his chin in one palm, he crosses his other arm on his chest. "Although I like the imagination, the desire to be flexible... it can't be done. Not at this point. And it's getting late. Club dismissed."
Everyone scatters. Duey is the first to leave, making me wonder if he's upset, or embarrassed, or both. I shuffle to the side of the stage, grab my bike helmet and backpack from the floor, but before I can go, Diggs calls my name.
"Yeah?"
He rubs a hand across his forehead. "It seemed like you were nervous in tonight's run-through of this scene, Myri, and that's okay, but I want you to know that you dropped your accent. I'd like you to bring it back in. It is, after all, what makes Nelle so special."
Chapter 28
"Where'd you disappear to?" I shake the cold from my hair, rip the reflective anklet from my pant leg that I wear for biking, and let it drop to the floor, before focusing, once again, on Wren.
She's lying on my bed, giving her attention to another one of her energy balls. Mom would be proud to know one of us is using our Wolford education.
I march over to the bed, plant my hands on my hips. "Well?"
She lets a long moment pass before finally rubbing her fingers and rolling herself up to sit. "I was with C.J. He was showing me around."
"C.J?" My heart races.
"Yeah," she continues, not catching the obvious question of 'Who is C.J?' Instead, she lifts her shoulders to her ears. "Did y' know there's a secret passage at the back of Dressing Room Four?"
"You let one of the drama kids see you?" My voice rises to a shrilly squeak.
A funny look crosses her face, as she waves me off, drifts to my desk and begins looking at the latest issue of American Girl that I'd left lying open.
"No-ooo. Don't be working yerself into a bother. C.J. is a ghost. Like me. Yer friend Duey was right. Ardenport Theater does have a wee bit of nightlife after-hours, if y' know what I be saying."
I breathe out a long sigh, before realizing that I'm relieved, of all things, to hear that the theater is haunted.
Wren's face fills with a wistful expression, and I shake my head at the thought of two ghosts dating. THAT is not what I want to be thinking about right now.
"Well, you can't be walking off in rehearsal. Even when we're doing the final scene--."
"I missed the kissing scene for tromping around in a secret passage?" She slaps her knee. "Well, push it down a pig's throat. I'm still thinking of a way to do that one!"
"Well, you can't. I couldn't get Diggs to change it. And I don't understand why you'd want to do it, anyway. What do you know about kissing boys?"
"I know enough."
"Yeah, right."
"I do."
I cross my arms, press my weight into my heels.
"Came close, I did. Once." A small smile works across her mouth, before she continues. "And I would've gone through with it, if Sally Mae Robbins hadn't told me Chet had an extra tooth on the top of his mouth that he liked to be using as a tongue-scraper. Turned out that was a lie, because Sally Mae went out kissing him behind the haystacks the next day. Jolly-good friend she turned out to be."
Wren puts her hands to her hips, moves closer. "But the last scene I could do, y' know. Up to the point of the actual kiss, at least. Then I could be stepping out for a breath or two whilst ye do yer business, then step back in, and finish the play like I ought. Unless it be the second night, when it won't be mattering if Duey sees me, b
ecause we'll be done."
I shake my head.
Wren turns in a floaty huff, giving her attention back to American Girl.
"We need to do the play the way we discussed, Wren. With you doing every scene, but that one. And even when you're not acting in rehearsals, I need you to stick around. There was a huge discussion about the final scene, and you weren't there to hear it. Now if you go talking about something we've already gone over, I'll look dumber than I already do."
I put my hand on the magazine to block her view. "Are you even listening--?" I stop, when I realize what's happened. The magazine page actually slipped out of Wren's hands. She'd been holding it, flipping the page, by herself.
Her eyes dart back down to the magazine pressed under my palm. She reaches for it, and after a slight hesitation, curls the pages under her fingertips-that-are-not-fingertips. When I pull my hand back, the page lifts under her guidance, and when she lets go, it falls back to the desk.
"How'd you do that?"
Wren slowly shakes her head. "I don't know. I'll be as polly-wogged as y' be over that."
"Wren! That's so cool! You moved something. You actually moved something by yourself!"
She brings her hands up, rotating them slowly in front of her.
I pass my hands through hers, feeling the familiar chill of air. Nothing's changed, at least not there. But when our eyes meet, hers wide with astonishment, I'm reminded that even though she's a ghost, she doesn't know everything. She can't predict the future. And like me, can still be taken by surprise.
Chapter 29
Monday morning packs me a surprise.
No one is talking to me. Not Roz. Not Cass. Not Elise. Not even Duey, although he did try to smile. But still, as I quickly realized, he isn't the person who's most important to me. It's Roz.
"Just tell me what I did!" I plead, when I manage to grab her by the sleeve before third hour.
She shrugs off my hand, turns to face me in a huff. "It's all over the school, so how could you NOT KNOW?" Her fingers scrunch in mock quotes.
The Ghost in Me Page 9