by Robin Talley
“What happened?” I turn back to Andrew, but he looks as stricken as I feel. There’s a patch of blood on his knuckles.
“It was an accident.” Julio shakes his head. “It’s not his fault.”
“I started to throw a punch.” Andrew’s shaking. His face has gone completely pale. “A stage punch, I swear—but I guess there was something wet on the floor, because he slipped, and then—and then he was on the ground.”
“What did he slip on?” I study the tiles, but I can’t see any water.
“Back away, everyone, back away.” Ms. Qiao pushes through the crowd behind us. “Melody, find Ms. Marcus and tell her to call Julio’s parents. You have their numbers, right?”
I nod and try not to think about all that blood on the floor as I run toward Ms. Marcus’s office in the black box.
This doesn’t make any sense. There wasn’t anything he could’ve slipped on. And all that blood . . .
The curse.
It can’t be. We’ve followed every rule.
Except . . .
Odile’s face flashes in my mind.
No. No. I haven’t done anything wrong. What’s happening now is scary, but it isn’t my fault. It can’t be.
But—oh, God . . .
What if it is?
LES MISÉRABLES PRELIMINARY BLOCKING DIAGRAM AS OF 2/18/2020—“LOVELY LADIES”
Stored on BHS performing arts department shared drive
Created by: Melody McIntyre, stage manager, class of 2021
Viewable to: SM, ASM, and directors
Editable by: Current SM ONLY
—Preliminary blocking diagram, sketched quickly in Mel’s binder prior to blocking rehearsal.
Scene 9—Beaconville High School Performing Arts Wing
DAYS UNTIL SPRING MUSICAL OPENS: 72
“They’re sure it’s laryngitis?” Estaban shoves three chips into his mouth at once, then tries to talk around them. “My mom got that. She had bronchitis, and she couldn’t get out of bed for three days. But I just saw Nick in the cafeteria and he looked fine to me.”
“That’s because he is fine.” I groan. “Or he should be. Except he went to a hockey game Saturday night and yelled for three hours straight, and his voice gave out.”
“You’re serious?” Fatima starts laughing. “The weekend before music rehearsals started?”
“For the show where he’s the lead?” Estaban holds out the chips bag to Fatima and me. The three of us are walking at the front of the crew group, winding our way through the hall on the way to rehearsal. “That takes serious balls.”
“Or a serious lack of brain cells.” I grab a couple of chips. “He doesn’t belong in this show at all. Get this—he didn’t try to sing at all after the game. He didn’t even do the warm-ups all the actors are supposed to do before rehearsal. If he had, he’d have known he was having issues and he could’ve warned the teachers.”
“He didn’t care if he screwed everyone over by not being able to rehearse.” Gabby shakes her head. She and I are clearly the principal Nick despisers in our crew.
“Everyone knows singers are supposed to protect their voices.” I’m so exasperated I can’t even eat. The chips crumble in my clenched hands. “He was probably shouting in the cold at all those hockey guys because he’s jealous they’re better at sports than him. I heard he only played in one football game all season.”
“I bet that’s why we’re stuck with him,” Bryce says. “Football wasn’t working out so he decided to come bother the theater people instead.”
“Lucky us,” Gabby says. Everyone laughs again.
Nick’s doctor put him on vocal rest for a week—no talking or singing, so his voice can recover from this ridiculous hockey-induced situation—so we had to rework the entire rehearsal schedule. I’ll be in the auditorium today for the first blocking rehearsal, on “Lovely Ladies,” the song where Fantine sells her hair and becomes a sex worker. The rest of the crew is going to the scene shop so they can work on sets and other fun stuff with Will, and Gabby’s headed to the choir room with Dom and Malik and the others to rehearse the music for the café scenes.
I check over my shoulder again to make sure Dom’s still behind me. He’s been quiet today, by Dom standards. Maybe he’s nervous about his solos.
Rachel’s walking next to him. She’s been quiet too, but when we reach the scene shop, she pauses and leans toward me. “I meant to tell you, Mel—the rehearsal pieces are hanging up by stage right. Try not to let the cast destroy them.”
“Thanks. I’ll do what I can.”
Being civil with Rachel has been easier than I expected. It helps that she’s a total pro. I’ve barely had to think about costumes since rehearsals started. Yesterday Ms. Marcus asked me to include a note in the rehearsal report about wanting to use a few pieces today, so during lunch Rachel and Devin went into the long-term basement storage room two levels under the stage to dig out a few old skirts and accessories. That storage room is the one part of the performing arts wing I don’t like—I’m always positive a spider’s going to spin a web on my head in the time it takes me to navigate through decades’ worth of falling-apart set pieces—so it was a relief to know I could trust Rachel and her team to handle it.
Maybe Rachel and me getting along is a good sign on the whole curse front. So far, things don’t look like they’re going too badly on this show. Julio just needed a couple of Band-Aids after that weird accident yesterday, no stitches or anything. And anyway, that couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with my crush-or-whatever on Odile.
I have been trying to avoid her, though, just to be safe. Today after lunch I spotted her coming out of the bathroom, the same one where we once played musical theater charades, but before she could see me, I turned around and walked in the opposite direction. It was especially tricky given that I really did have to pee. Spanish wound up being highly uncomfortable.
“It was amazing,” Gabby’s telling Jacob as the others meander into the scene shop. They must’ve changed the subject while Rachel and I were talking. “They took me around the whole theater. It was like a two-hour tour!”
“Which theater again?” Jacob asks.
“Boston Rep! I was there so late my mom got annoyed.”
“You got a tour of Boston Rep?” I interrupt.
Gabby nods, grinning. “Odile set it up for me. The ASM knows her from a show they did together a long time ago. Her name’s Cheryl, and she gave me a private tour of the whole backstage, and the shop, and everything. It was incredible!”
“Wow.” I’m jealous, but more than that, I’m happy for Gabby. “That’s awesome!”
“Odile set that up?” Jasmin raises her eyebrows.
“Yeah, she’s really nice, it turns out.” Gabby’s positively beaming.
“Surrrrre she is.” Bryce laughs. “When she’s done being a stuck-up diva.”
The others laugh and nod along. I want to jump in to say that Gabby’s right, but Jasmin’s eyeing me again. Maybe it’s better if I stay out of this one.
The crew veers off into the scene shop, and Gabby and the still-silent Dom head for the choir room. When I push open the auditorium doors, the cast is still trickling in, but the stage is empty.
I always love the sight of a bare stage. It’s full of possibilities. And today it’s even better than usual, because the bare stage means we’re about to start blocking.
Blocking might be my favorite part of this job. It’s when the director tries out different ways of moving the actors around on the stage so the scenes will look interesting and the audience can understand what’s going on. I watched some videos last night to see how other productions blocked “Lovely Ladies,” and I sketched out a quick diagram to practice how we might do it on our stage with the turntable.
Today I’ll sit beside Ms. Marcus in the front row of the house, taking notes and drawing diagrams while she directs the cast. The actors will do their best to remember what they’re supposed to do, of course, but the SM is
the only one making a written record. Ms. Marcus is way too busy making actual artistic decisions to keep track of every logistical detail.
Blocking rehearsals can be kind of brutal, though. There’s a lot that needs to happen in a scene like this one, and it isn’t easy to get everyone onstage at the right time and in the right place. Plus, we don’t actually have the turntable yet, but we have to block the scene as if we do. I make a note to ask Will about the coordinates so I can tape out where it’ll go before our next rehearsal.
I go over to the wing where Rachel hung the rehearsal costume pieces—long skirts for some of the girls, a cane for Jillian, a pirate hat for David that’s shaped kind of like his official police inspector hat will be—and start passing them out to the actors. It’s supposed to be easier for them to get in character if they have
temporary costume pieces to work with, but in my experience, actors tend to lose all self-control as soon as you hand them anything, so it’s a mixed bag.
As I expected, once the rehearsal pieces are in their hands it doesn’t take them long to get silly. Ms. Marcus isn’t here yet, so that doesn’t help.
“Attention, everyone!” I find myself shouting just a few minutes later. “That isn’t how we treat props in this theater! From now on, only David’s allowed to wear the pirate hat.”
“I’m not wearing it.” Technically, Julio’s telling the truth. He isn’t wearing the hat. He’s spinning it around the tip of his finger like a basketball.
“You can’t touch another actor’s prop.” I do my best to act stern. “It’s the first rule of theater.”
“It isn’t a real prop.” Adam swipes the hat from Julio and tosses it to Kadie, who catches it with a giggle. “There aren’t any pirates in Les Mis.”
“It could be a prop in a future show. Next year we could do Peter Pan, and what are you going to tell Ms. Marcus when it turns out our only pirate hat’s turned to mush?”
Kadie tosses the hat to Alejandra, who wasn’t even going to be in this scene until yesterday. Ms. Marcus added her to the ensemble for this number so she could get over her stage fright before she comes back on later as Cosette. She catches the hat immediately, pops it onto her head, and makes a hook hand. “Arrr!”
Julio swipes it right away. “Aye, lass, ye better walk the plank!”
“Come on, people!” I try to say, but it’s clear I’ve lost control of the situation. I’m also laughing along with everyone else. That doesn’t exactly make me seem more authoritative, but I can’t help it.
David plucks the pirate hat out of Julio’s hand and sets it at a jaunty angle on his head. He’s kind of on the short side, which adds to the effect. He looks like he’s just stepped out of a theme park ride. “Give me an eye patch and a parrot and let’s go hunt some fugitives!”
Beth sneaks up behind David and snatches the hat, stashing it deftly behind her back. David feigns outrage and chases after Beth.
“Ahoy, matey!” Odile, who I somehow didn’t see come in, reaches out as Beth runs past and grabs the hat, perching it on her head and hunching forward in an impressively pirate-like pose. Everyone laughs again, including me.
“All right, everyone.” Ms. Marcus claps from behind us. “Odile, return the hat to David, please.”
Odile grins sheepishly, but she doesn’t seem to mind being the only one to get in trouble for something that everyone else was doing too. “Sorry, Ms. Marcus.”
I hurry down to my seat as Ms. Marcus directs the cast to their positions. She gets started right away, and the blocking diagram I’d sketched out before rehearsal quickly becomes inaccurate when she adds in more ensemble girls than I’d expected, but that’s all right. I can already tell the stage is going to look fuller this way, and that’ll add to the sense of chaos in the scene.
Halfway into our first run-through of the song, Ms. Marcus asks me to call a hold so she can move the ensemble farther downstage. That’s always fun because I get to shout “HOLD!” at the top of my lungs and watch everyone freeze, but she gets them into their new positions fast.
Finally, she calls for a break, and I set my timer and take off for the bathroom. Three different people stop me with questions about the new rehearsal schedule on my way out, but when I reach the auditorium doors, the hallway’s empty. Or so I think, until I hear a faint giggle.
“Do you feel it?” Odile’s voice echoes from the end of the hall.
“Yeah,” a girl answers. More giggling.
My heart thuds as I step closer. All I can see is the dim outline of two people lying side by side.
“Hi, Mel.” Odile lifts her chin and gives me a tiny wave. There’s a fresh set of giggles from the figure next to her.
As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I can make out the shape lying on the hallway floor beside her. It’s Alejandra. They’re both on their stomachs, their faces turned toward each other.
But there’s at least a foot of space between them, which . . . is good? I guess? I’m so confused right now I don’t know what to think. I’m supposed to be keeping my distance from Odile, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy to see her lying on the floor with someone else.
“Oh, hey, Mel.” Alejandra giggles again. She’s got one arm tucked under her stomach. This whole situation is only getting more bizarre. “Yeah, you’re right, I totally feel it now.”
“See?” Odile laughs. “My voice teacher showed me this once and I swear it changed everything.”
“Showed you what?” I probably shouldn’t interfere with what I’m starting to suspect is some bizarre actor ritual, but I sit down cross-legged next to Odile anyway.
“I couldn’t figure out how to breathe from my diaphragm.” Alejandra pushes herself up onto her elbows. “Ms. Qiao explained it to me, but I still didn’t get where my diaphragm actually was.”
“But if you lie on your stomach and breathe, you can feel it pushing into the floor.” Odile rolls over onto her side. “Try it, Mel, you’ll see.”
“Er, maybe later.” I’m climbing back to my feet when Dom’s voice echoes down the hall.
“Hey, everybody.” His footsteps are heavy on the tile floor. “Do you have a second, Mel?”
“Yeah.” It’s nice to be distracted from this too-many-feelings weirdness. “Are you all on break too?”
He nods, then waves to Odile and Alejandra and leads me around the corner to an empty hallway. “How much is left on your break timer?”
I glance down. “Two minutes. How’s music rehearsal?”
“Okay.” He fidgets and looks back around the corner. “Did Gabby tell you she’s getting a cold?”
I pinch the skin above my nose. “Yeah. I just hope she doesn’t have to miss any rehearsals. The schedule’s already screwed up thanks to Nick being a fail, and I really don’t have time to train a new ASM.” Dom gives me some side eye, and I hastily add, “And I hope she feels better soon, obviously.”
“She said it isn’t bad. Might just be allergies. Also . . .” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe I should wait until later to bring this up, but . . .”
“Uh-oh. That sounds ominous.”
“It’s just . . .” He glances around again, probably to make sure no one’s close enough to hear us. “She told me about how Odile came to the party the other night.”
“Ohhh.” Shit. “I’m sorry. I swear, we didn’t actually invite her. If I’d known she was coming I’d definitely have asked you too.”
“It isn’t that.” He glances back around the corner again.
“Then what is it . . . oh.” I sigh. “You’ve been talking to Jasmin, haven’t you? Look, this isn’t going to trigger the curse, I swear.”
Dom shakes his head. “I’m not worried about the curse. But I am kind of worried about you.”
“What? Why?”
“Look, you can be honest.” He lowers his voice so far I can barely hear him. “I won’t tell Jasmin, or anyone else.”
I don’t like this. “What are you talking about?”
“You can tell me if you’re, you know. With her.” He tilts his head toward the corner. “Or if you want to be.”
“I—I’m not.” I swallow. “I don’t.”
“Well, she’s into you. That much is obvious to anyone with eyes. And ears.”
“No, she isn’t!” I say, but his words have already sent such a huge thrill through me that it’s hard to focus on denial.
“Um. Mel. It’s hard to take what you’re saying seriously given that enormous smile on your face.”
“Sorry.” I try to make my face completely blank. “I was, um, thinking about something else.”
“Sure.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I can tell you like her. A lot. The way you act together—it’s different from how you were with Rachel. Or Tom, or Tyler. I don’t remember seeing you look this happy with anyone, actually, as long as I’ve known you.”
Wow. Could he be right? “I don’t . . . Look, I’m honestly not . . .”
“Please don’t lie to me. It’s really not cool.” He trails off, and that’s when I realize he hasn’t smiled once in this conversation. Dom’s always joking around, always over the top, but right now he’s dead serious. “As far as I can tell, Odile’s awesome. I’m not surprised you like her. I just . . . don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”
I cross my arms. “Out of curiosity—because I’m telling the truth, there’s nothing going on between me and her—but, what do you mean? About getting hurt?”
“Look, you . . . you tend to get in over your head without realizing it sometimes. Things can get really intense really fast when you’re involved. You might not know how bad things are until it’s too late.”
“Okay . . .” I’m not sure what he’s getting at, exactly, but I nod. “Thanks for the warning, I guess.”
He shrugs. “What are best friends for?”
I smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you really still want to be my best friend even now that you’ve abandoned me for the actors?”
“Hey, you abandoned me first. Remember how you wouldn’t talk to me during auditions?” Now he does smile, a little, his words softening into a joke.