The Backstagers and the Final Blackout

by Andy Mientus

  The fairy-tale creatures erupted into a shouting match as Hunter turned to his crew.

  “We have to get them to stop arguing,” Hunter said. “In the show, they can only defeat the giant when they learn to work together.”

  “So how do they resolve it?” Jory asked. Hunter furrowed his brow, thinking hard.

  “I . . . I can’t remember,” he said. “It was around this time I had to go back to the dressing room to help a character with a quick change. I never could quite hear this section.”

  The Backstagers looked to one another, stumped.

  “Yeah,” Hunter continued. “The actress from Penitent couldn’t get the costume on herself because there was a whole transformation effect. She was playing, like . . . some kind of . . . Oh! I remember! I had to help the girl who was playing the Witch get into her transformation costume!”

  “Okay?” Aziz said, eager as ever to get to the point.

  “She entered at the end of the scene and threatened the characters with a terrible curse if they didn’t help her defeat the giant!”

  “Oh no,” Sasha said. “So you’re saying we have to go out there again and find the witch?”

  “Not if we brought our own . . .” Beckett said.

  All eyes turned to Reo, who looked behind himself before he realized what they were suggesting.

  “You can’t be serious,” Reo said.

  “Why not?” Jory said.

  “Because I’m not that kind of witch,” Reo said. “I don’t know the first thing about cursing. This isn’t, like, a storybook—this is real life!”

  Hunter sighed. “It’s okay, Reo, you’ve done your share already. Just . . . let me think . . .”

  He sat on the stairs, defeated. He had been able to lead his guys out of so many rough spots before, and now he was being foiled by some arguing fables? Really? Some stage manager he’d make.

  But then he realized something. Out of all of the skills a stage manager needed to possess, diffusing tension among a crew was the most important. He didn’t need a witch to threaten them with a curse. He needed to be the stage manager he knew he could be. He stood and strode into the middle of the room.

  “All right, we need QUIET! IN! THE! HOUSE!” he bellowed in his most authoritative voice.

  The three pigs, two cherubic children, and one fashionable cat all fell silent and turned to Hunter, shocked.

  “Dang,” Aziz whispered, impressed.

  Even the princess regained consciousness and groggily sat upright.

  Hunter paced around the crowd of fairy-tale creatures.

  “This is the sorriest excuse for a crew I’ve ever seen,” he said. “Not because you don’t have what it takes to beat that giant but because you can’t work together! I mean, come on, we have three master carpenters here.”

  He gestured to the pigs, who looked at each other and then reluctantly smiled.

  “We have a world-class costumer. Puss, those boots are just gorgeous.”

  Puss looked down at his admittedly stunning footwear and looked back at Hunter, touched.

  “Hansel, Gretel. You might think you’re just a couple of kids, but if you can follow a trail of candy into a giant’s lair, I know you can follow a plan and execute it. That’s a valuable skill.”

  Hansel let out a small belch before looking to his sister, who nodded.

  “And then there’s this beauty over here in the corner. She might seem like she’s slacking on the job, but look at how she can drift off in even the most stressful of circumstances. We can all learn from her. Even though we have to fight a giant, we’ll never get anywhere if we don’t keep our cool and clear our minds.”

  The princess’s eyes opened a bit wider than before, as if she’d had a sudden jolt of caffeine.

  The Backstagers smiled as they watched Hunter be the leader they knew best.

  “You might not believe in yourselves right now,” he said, looking to Jory as he repeated his words from the Genesius parking lot. “That’s fine. I’ll believe in you, if you’ll believe in me. Because we’re a crew.”

  Jory smiled proudly.

  Hunter smiled back and then wound up for his big finish. “So, what do you say, creatures of the forest? Are we a crew?”

  The oldest pig stepped up and put his hoof forward.

  “I’m in,” he said.

  “And me,” said his youngest brother.

  “Let’s go,” said the middle.

  Puss licked his paw before extending it.

  Hansel and Gretel both exclaimed in their native German, “Ja!”

  The princess covered a wide yawn with one hand but gave a thumbs-up with the other.

  “Well, all right,” Hunter said. “I want you to meet my own crew, the Backstagers.”

  He gestured back to where his friends were gathered, and they waved.

  “Together,” Hunter said, “we’re gonna beat this giant.”

  Later that night, the giant stirred in his sleep as a pebble nailed him straight on the nose.

  Then another.

  Then a third.

  The giant snapped his eyes open and rose from his resting place in the moonlit clearing, enraged. He blinked his eyes into focus and saw a short, plump little boy in play clothes standing at his massive feet, holding a slingshot.

  “I’m the boy you’ve been looking for!” he called.

  The giant growled and raised his foot to stomp the boy flat when another voice called from behind, “No, it is I!”

  The giant swung around to see another Hansel standing defiantly across the clearing. This Hansel had longer hair, which was pinned up to look short, but from the giant’s height, they looked identical. The giant grunted in confusion.

  “Liar, I am the boy!”

  “No, me!”

  “No, ME!”

  A third, then a fourth, then a fifth Hansel popped out from behind trees at the clearing’s edge. Their voices sounded more like the squeal of an animal than the holler of a little boy, but they looked absolutely identical to the others, save for slightly flatter, pinker noses.

  The giant was charging toward the three pinker Hansels when there was a commotion from the canopy above.

  “We are the boy!” cried six young voices in unison as six Hansels dropped from the trees. Now, the giant was surrounded by Hansels and absolutely stupefied.

  From a high branch in a nearby tree, the drowsy princess and the cat in boots watched, riveted.

  “With your costumes and my makeup, they all look just like Hansel!” the princess said.

  “Yes, they look just perfect!” the cat purred.

  Down in the clearing, the giant spun around and swiped at the air as the Hansels taunted and dodged him. He shut his eyes and roared into the night, his simple giant’s brain overwhelmed.

  Up in the tree, the cat carefully removed his stylish leather boots.

  “I’m going to make my move!” he said, turning to the princess. But she was down for the count, so he just said, “Whatever,” and scampered down the tree.

  The cat dashed through the crowd of Hansels, scurrying up the giant’s leg and around to the back of his pants. The giant roared and reached for him, but the cat was too fast to catch.

  “Now!” cried a particularly tall and solid Hansel with a generous swoop of brown hair.

  The cat leaped onto the giant’s rope suspenders and gnawed with all his might. One suspender severed and fell. Then the other.

  The giant looked down at his burlap pants as they fell, revealing his giant polka-dot boxer shorts. The Hansels all burst out laughing. The giant turned bright red and took off running toward the woods, but the burlap pants caught around his ankles.

  “RUN!” the tallest Hansel ordered to the others, and they scattered as the humiliated giant teetered and fell with a loud crash into the trees.

  The cat scampered up the giant and examined him before shouting to the Hansels, “He’s out cold! The woods are saved!”

  The crowd of Hansels cheered. Th
e princess blinked awake and, seeing the hulking giant lying motionless on the ground, joined in.

  Six of the Hansels removed their costumes and wiped their faces clean of their rosy-cheeked makeup, revealing themselves to be the Backstagers.

  “Boss, defeated! Level UP!” Sasha exclaimed, high-fiving Aziz.

  “That was magic,” Reo said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Hunter scooped Jory up into a hug and said, “Great work, team!”

  “Great thinking, Hunter,” Beckett said. “Most definitely stage manager material.”

  The three pigs, the cat in boots, Hansel and Gretel, and the princess rushed up to them. They all exchanged hugs and congratulations.

  “Thank you, Backstagers,” the oldest pig said. “We of the woods are forever grateful.”

  “Now, when you’re ready, step into the elevator,” the princess said.

  The sharp sound of a bell dinged through the trees, and from thin air, elevator doors whooshed open. The Backstagers gazed into its warm light as the princess smiled, wide-awake.

  “Your next challenge awaits.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Pencils down!” Mr. Gilliland announced. “Turn your papers over!”

  Jamie dropped his pencil on the desk and collapsed over it as if he’d just crossed the finish line of a triathlon. Timothy reached up from where he sat at the desk behind him and squeezed Jamie’s shoulder as if to say, “We did it!”

  Timothy knew that Jamie had been dreading the math final the most. Jamie had never been great with numbers. He was more suited to intuitive problem-solving, while math came as easily to Timothy as a dancer counting five, six, seven, eight. It’s why they were such a good match, onstage and off.

  It was their last exam of the day, but while the rest of the seniors were now free to spend the rest of the day playing Gamestation or eating junk food or sleeping, Timothy and Jamie finally had the time and energy to worry about the Backstagers.

  “Rample says they’ve been in there for four days now with no contact,” Jamie said. “That seems bad.”

  “Or maybe it’s good. Maybe it means they’re onto something,” Timothy said. “Or maybe it doesn’t mean anything, because time has decided to go crazy in the backstage and they think they’ve only been in there for five minutes.”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “Still, I can’t help but worry.”

  “I know,” Timothy said as he put his arm around his boyfriend.

  They made their way to the student lot where Timothy’s car was parked. When they slumped into their seats and Jamie fastened his belt, Timothy didn’t turn the key in the engine. Instead, he looked at Jamie affectionately.

  “I have something for you,” he said. He reached across Jamie to the glovebox, which he opened to reveal a small gift-wrapped box.

  “What’s this for?” Jamie asked as he took the present, suddenly nervous. “It’s not our anniversary, right?”

  “I just wanted to be able to make you smile today,” Timothy said. “I know how nervous you were for this one. I’ve actually noticed how anxious you’ve been all week. But now, no matter what, the exams are behind us and we can just look forward . . . to the future.”

  Jamie opened the present. It was a knit Wolverine University ski cap, with a pom-pom on the top in the school’s signature colors. Jamie teared up. But then the tears started to roll, and after a moment, he was sobbing into the hat.

  “Do you . . . love it? Hate it?” Timothy patted his back, but Jamie couldn’t stop, so Timothy just leaned over and held him until he could get his breath again.

  Finally, Jamie wiped his eyes and said, “It isn’t the exam. Well, not exactly.”

  “Then what is it?” Timothy asked.

  “I was nervous about the exams, because I was hoping if I did well, I might be able to apply for some merit scholarships, but I’ve been talking with my family and even if we had major help . . . they just can’t afford to send me to Wolverine University.”

  Timothy looked at the crumpled hat in Jamie’s hands and felt terrible.

  “Well, maybe . . .” he said. “Maybe you can just do community this year and rack up some credits and transfer in later.”

  “I seriously doubt our financial situation will change in a year or so, Tim.”

  “Yeah, that’s—I’m so sorry, Jamie. I hadn’t even thought about it.”

  “I’m just so disappointed. To actually get in and not be able to go.” He ran his fingers over the yellow and blue “W” embroidered on the now soggy hat. “But most of all, I’m so afraid we’ll grow apart.”

  Timothy looked Jamie right in the eye and said, “Jamie, that isn’t going to happen. Even if we have to be apart, I’m not going away.”

  “That’s easy to say now,” Jamie whispered. “Sorry. I mean, thank you for saying that. I just know how this goes. Do you talk to any of the Backstagers who graduated before us anymore?”

  Timothy realized that he truly didn’t. Before Sasha and Aziz and Hunter and Beckett and Jory and Reo, there had been other Backstagers who showed them the wonder and danger and magic of the backstage. They’d spent countless hours together being stupid in the Club Room or doing wonders during tech. They’d all sworn they’d be best friends forever. But then, each Backstager had graduated and gone off to a school where he’d met a new crew to have new adventures with, and now Timothy and Jamie were lucky to get a few direct messages a year saying hey, or happy birthday, or remember this.

  They were both sitting silently with this awful realization when there was a knock on the driver’s-side window. They looked up to see Bailey Brentwood standing next to the car with her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed.

  Timothy rolled down the window. “Bailey! How are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Never mind how I am,” Bailey said curtly. “I need your car.”

  “What?”

  Adrienne and Chloe caught up with Bailey, panting.

  “Please, Bailey,” Chloe said. “Let’s just take a minute to talk about this.”

  “We know it’s a lot to take in,” Adrienne said.

  But Bailey didn’t look back at them. She just held her eyes on Timothy as if trying to make him bend to her will with mind control.

  “We’re going for a ride,” she said. “I hope you’re done with your exams for the day, because it isn’t a short drive to Forest of Arden.”

  “Um,” Timothy said, looking over Bailey’s shoulder to the helpless Adrienne and Chloe, “can I just have a quick explanation of—”

  “Oh I think it’s you Backstagers who owe me an explanation,” Bailey said. “Quite a few explanations, actually.”

  Timothy looked at Jamie, whose eyes said, Dude, she knows.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Oh. Awesome,” Beckett said when the elevator doors dinged open on the next floor of the tower, though he definitely wasn’t feeling awesome about where the Backstagers now found themselves.

  It was an abyss of darkness lit only by a single torch that burned atop a simple metal stand a few yards into the space. The torch cast a circle of light onto the rocky ground, but otherwise, the space was absolutely pitch-black.

  “There aren’t any horror musicals, are there?” Reo asked as they stepped toward the torch.

  “Only a couple,” Jory said, “but the reviews were scarier than the shows themselves.”

  They stepped into the darkness and the elevator doors closed behind them and disappeared.

  “I guess we’re supposed to take this?” Aziz grabbed the torch from its stand and held it aloft. He walked a few paces and its light bounced off of uneven stone walls. Crystals growing from the stone glittered in the flame.

  “We’re in a cave, I think,” Aziz said.

  “Must be a tall one,” Beckett said. “I can’t see the ceiling.”

  “Is there a path?” Hunter asked.

  Aziz followed the wall around the chamber they were in. It curved in a circular shape just a few yards across and appe
ared to be totally contained, but then he discovered a narrow passageway leading deeper into the dark.

  “This way!” he called, and the Backstagers followed behind him as they explored the narrow tunnel.

  Sasha, at the back of the pack, looked up suspiciously.

  “Do you guys hear that?” he asked.

  “Hear what?” Hunter said.

  “I don’t know, something up high. Like a . . . fluttering?”

  “It’s probably the sound of the flame echoing off the walls,” Hunter said.

  “Let’s hope,” Beckett said.

  They walked on until the passage let out into another cavern. The space around them felt cooler and vaster, even though the Backstagers could see only what their torch illuminated.

  “Hey, look at the walls in here,” Jory said.

  Aziz led the group closer to the wall, and as the torchlight grew, they could more clearly see that in this cavern, the rough walls had been carved and polished into something more like the stone walls of a primitive castle. Aziz lifted the torch higher, and its light revealed writing in ancient, indecipherable glyphs carved right into the walls.

  “Could be magical sigils?” Reo said as he marveled at the writing.

  “Guys, I see something out in the floor,” Hunter said, pointing into the darkness. The others strained their eyes. “Aziz, light our way.”

  Together, they walked toward the center of the cavern, where they found a large iron basin.

  As they surrounded the basin, Beckett ran his fingers along the inside of the bowl and held them up to the group covered in black soot.

  “This is for burning things,” he said.

  “I wonder . . .” Aziz said as he looked at the torch in his hand. He shrugged and tossed it into the basin, which erupted instantly into a roaring bonfire. The Backstagers leaped backward from the flame that illuminated the walls around them.

  The room was cylindrical with no other tunnels branching off from it. The bonfire lit the entire perimeter of the chamber, but even its bright light couldn’t illuminate the ceiling. The chamber just seemed to reach upward forever into darkness. The strange writing wrapped around the space, all leading to a central mural of some great winged creature.