After a brief introduction by Mr. Baker, the house lights dimmed. “Ooooh, setting the mood,” I heard Coen say. I rolled my eyes.
A.J. Sparks and Keaton Best—Luke’s younger brother and exact opposite—strolled on stage. From the other side came a couple of other awkward freshmen, Christian North and Ben Wallenstein. I heard snickers travel through the crowd. As the actors argued with one another, the crowd grew a bit restless. But then swords were drawn and a fight began. Metal clashed with metal. One boy hoisted his arm on another’s hip and dropped him solidly to the stage.
From behind me, Coen said, “Look at them slapping each other up there. Embarrassing.”
I clutched my armrests, dug my fingers in, wanted to turn around and say something so the entire auditorium could hear.
Because I was getting really tired of Coen Marsh.
•••
Opening night arrived on the first bitterly cold day of the fall. A Thursday. Romeo & Juliet would run all weekend, five shows total including a matinee on Sunday, closing with a Monday night performance. I stopped home after school, planning on being back an hour before curtain. Stagehands typically wore a black shirt and black pants so they would blend in. I didn’t have a problem finding that in my closet. And it was then I realized something.
I was actually nervous about opening night.
Kat waited in the car while I changed. Before dashing out the door, I left a note for my parents. 4 tickets at will-call, I scribbled. Mom and Dad were very excited about coming. Ike and Beck? Probably not so much.
The dressing rooms adjacent to the auditorium were abuzz with activity. The entire cast had crowded in there, singing along to a playlist of musical theater tunes piping out of a pair of small speakers. The performers were in various stages of dress. Some of the younger, more eager freshmen and sophomores were already costumed up. Others wore thick makeup but hadn’t put on their outfits yet.
“Hello, little girl!” William sang as he saw us. He grabbed me by the waist and danced with me. “What’s your rush? You’re missing all the flowers ... ” He smelled like thick pancake foundation, and I could see it was covering his black eye pretty well. His leather costume issued a mixture of sweat and must.
I laughed, a genuine sound of glee. He spun me around until I was dizzy, then dipped me so low my hair brushed the floor.
“Fifteen minutes, everyone!” Arwen shouted as she bustled through the dressing room area. Her ever-present binder was hooked in one arm. When she saw Kat, she tucked her hair behind one ear and quietly said, “Hey, Kat.”
“Hi,” Kat responded with a smile. She seemed miles more comfortable around Arwen now than she had when we first wielded paintbrushes oh so long ago. “Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks.”
Kat and I hung out backstage with the other stagehands, plotting out how we were going to move the sets. From behind the thick velour curtain, I could hear feet shuffling and the quiet sounds of conversation as the auditorium began to fill with people. I wondered if my parents and brothers were among them yet. I hoped they’d get a good seat.
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Finally, Mr. Baker gathered us all in the small area between the dressing rooms and the stage. “Form a circle,” he said. We did. “All of your hard work has led us to this moment. Be proud of what you’ve accomplished. Project your pride to the farthest corners of the auditorium. Let the audience bathe in it. All together now.” He paused. “Energy ... pace ... enthusiasm.”
And the rest of the cast and crew joined in. “Energy ... pace ... enthusiasm!” they chanted. Quan leaped up and down, and others joined in. The junior playing Tybalt, Max Goodman, raised both hands in the air. “Energy ... pace ... enthusiasm!”
Beside me, Kat began to jump and shout along. I did too.
We ended our pre-show circle with a rousing cheer and an enormous group hug.
A group hug.
I was part of a group hug.
My life had become exceptionally bizarre.
“All right,” I said to Riannon, who had her arms wrapped around me, squeezing like a boa constrictor. “That’s enough.”
Finally, the actors took their places as we stood backstage. Arwen whispered to Heidi up in the lighting booth, “House lights down.” Then, as a hush fell over the crowd, “Stage lights up.” An unearthly glow spilled from beneath the curtain.
Arwen turned to the nervous freshmen whose argument started the show and said, “Keaton. A.J. Break a leg.” Then she pointed to Quan, who had both hands on a thick rope. He jumped up and pulled it down. The velour curtain began to open, and a dazzling light turned the world upside down.
It was—and forgive me for using a word I never in a million years thought I would ever use—magical. For the next two and half hours, William, Maisie, and the entire drama club owned the stage. The audience laughed and gasped and applauded at every chance. And when the lights went down between scenes, Kat and I would move sets in darkness. Once, I could have sworn I heard my mom whisper, “There she is!”
When the final act concluded, when the star-crossed lovers lay dead across one another in the tomb while their families mourned and the curtain closed around them, the crowd rose to its feet. Their applause was intoxicating.
The actors lined up on stage and bowed in groups of two or four. When William and Maisie took their turn, the shouts and catcalls rose. A male voice shouted, “I love you, William!” which drew nervous laughs from those who didn’t know the voice belonged to William’s boyfriend and genuine laughs from those who did. I kinda wanted to walk out there myself, haul Kat and Arwen and Quan with me, and take our own moment to bask in the spotlight.
Then I thought better, remembered how much I preferred the shadows, and watched as the cast came together and took one last bow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Oh my God, that was so amazing!” William shouted at the top of his lungs. He stuck his head out the passenger side window of Kat’s car like a dog on a joyride. “Thank you, Brookstone!” he bellowed, laughing deeply.
Kat drove through the middle of town, past the mall and out toward County Road 73. I sat in the backseat alongside Arwen and William’s boyfriend, Ephram. Quan’s car honked twice behind us. William blew them a kiss.
Maisie’s family lived outside of town, and even though it was a school night, the whole cast and crew was heading out there for the club’s traditional opening night cast party. When I’d mentioned it to my parents post-show, my mom had immediately said, “Go. Have fun.”
Maisie led the caravan. Her taillights were two cars ahead of us.
County Road 73 met up with Central at the edge of town, where two-story motels and the mall and the giant box stores turned to cornfields and trees whose leaves burned red and orange and yellow. Our headlights cut through the pitch black as we wove down the two-lane highway.
Then, ahead of us, Maisie’s taillights went dark.
“Whoa! What’s going on?” I asked.
“Is she okay?” Kat added. She must have lifted her foot off the gas pedal, because I felt the car slowly lose speed.
William cackled. “It’s a tradition!” he said. “Kill the house lights!” He leaned over, reached for Kat’s steering wheel, and found the switch for the headlights. He twisted it, leaving us driving forty miles an hour in the dead of night down a winding road with no lights.
Kat and I screamed. “You’re insane!” I shouted. I spun in my seat, saw a line of cars behind us. One by one, they all did the same. “You’re all insane!”
“We all go a little mad sometimes,” William said, howling with laughter.
When my eyes adjusted, I could still see the road. Could still see Maisie in front of us, driving slower.
I was actually mad at myself for being scared. So I rolled down my window and, like William, stuck my head out to holler at the cloudless sky. Behind us, one car started honking. Then another. Then a third. Finally Kat joined the chorus.
W
e passed through a heavily-wooded area that I was kind of familiar with, mostly because there was a trestle bridge out on 73 that I’d partied at when I was dating Coen. Then the trees disappeared, replaced by a high wooden fence and acres of open land.
Maisie’s headlights flared back to life. Kat quickly did the same with hers.
“Wait. Maisie’s family owns Brookstone Stables?” I asked.
“Yep,” William said. “You didn’t know that?”
“Do I seem like someone who pays attention to those kinds of things?”
“Touché,” he answered.
We turned into the driveway under a wooden sign with BISHOP STABLES carved into it, moving down a long gravel road.
Maisie’s parents were home, but they actually went to bed shortly after we arrived. Their house had a spacious downstairs area decked out in all things rustic. Huge horse paintings in ornate frames filled the walls. A wooden bookcase sat against one wall, made of the same weathered planks used on the fence surrounding the property. Horseshoe bookends sat on its shelves, and woven throw blankets were draped on leather furniture.
There was a billiards table in the back of the family room, an expensive-looking one with brown felt instead of green. A.J., Keaton, and a few other freshmen went straight for it, like they were being sucked into a dude vortex. A giant television was mounted on the wall above a stone fireplace. Soon it was playing old British comedy by a group called Monty Python. I didn’t know who they were, but apparently they were hilarious. Pretty much everyone there except me and Kat knew every line, every joke.
“I gotta use the bathroom,” Kat said quietly, looking around. “Maisie?”
Maisie said, “Down the hall, second door on the left. It’s super-barfy. My mom decorated it after she and Dad came back from Belize, so it’s all conch shells and blue paint and framed photos of islands.” She added, “There’s even a wooden parrot over the sink.”
I laughed as Kat disappeared down the hall, then helped Maisie grab some sodas and snacks from a bar and pantry. Neon beer signs hung all around, mirrors with Clydesdale horses on them. It took me a moment to notice that Arwen had vanished too.
I sat on the arm of the couch where Quan, Heidi, and Max sat together, singing along with the television to some song about lumberjacks. William and Ephram fell into a plush easy chair together, twining their legs and speaking to each other in low tones.
Finally, I saw Arwen and Kat return, one before the other, from wherever they’d really escaped to. Just another one of those subtle, sneaky moves I’d grown used to seeing. Kat wedged her way onto the couch beside me. Arwen stood near the bar, sipping from a bottle of water.
The buzz from that night’s performance was still going strong. Everyone spoke in loud voices, like they were still projecting to the last row. I could feel the buzz coursing through my veins too.
“Ugh,” Ephram said, his hands cupping William’s face. “I can’t believe what that monster did to your beautiful face.”
“Oh, stop,” William said. “I’m fine.”
“I bet he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known you had a second-level black belt.”
“Wait. You know kung fu?” I asked with a smile.
William shook his head. “Tae kwon do. And it’s not like I’m an action star or anything.”
“Please,” Ephram said. “I’ve seen the way those legs move. Your kicks are fierce.” He turned to me. “That’s how we met, you know,” he said. “Breaking boards and looking good doing it. Our sensei paired us together.”
“Hey,” I said, placing an arm on Kat’s shoulder, “That’s kind of like how you and Arwen met. Paired together on ... ”
“What?” Kat’s voice was barely a whisper.
The moment the words fled my lips, I wanted to snatch them back out of the air. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from being on stage or the camaraderie between friends, but the comment slipped out way too easily.
“Oh ... um ... ” I didn’t know how to backtrack, but it didn’t matter. Kat could see it in my eyes.
“You know.” I could almost feel the air shatter around Kat as she realized what I’d said.
“Know what?” Quan asked, leaping unknowingly into our very serious moment.
Kat brushed my hand from her shoulder and quickly stood. “I’ve gotta ... I’ve gotta go,” she said. She used the sleeve of her black sweatshirt to wipe her eyes. Then she rushed to the stairs.
“Kat!” I called after her. “Wait!”
I hurried up the stairs, heard the whisk and slam of the heavy front door closing. I could feel the DC-ers’ eyes on me as I followed. A few kids whispered questions in Arwen’s direction.
And then I was outside, rushing down the gravel driveway in the cold. “Kit-Kat,” I said, seeing her almost at her car.
She didn’t stop. I saw her shoulders shudder and realized that she was crying.
I ran as fast as I could. “Kat,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Go away, Dessa!” She spun around to face me, anger in her eyes, cheeks flushed red and covered in tears. “Leave me alone!”
“I didn’t mean to say anything,” I explained. “I was waiting until you—”
“Waiting? So how long have you known?”
“I ... I ... ”
“How long!?”
My shoulders sagged. “Since the day we met at the rocks. I saw you and Arwen in the auditorium.”
“You were spying on us?” She fumbled in her pocket for her car keys. They jingled nervously in her shaking hands.
“No,” I said. “Look, I’m happy for you. I am. Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out the best way to show my support, and I’m wondering why you didn’t tell me, but I don’t care anymore, Kit-Kat.”
“Stop calling me that,” she said. She looked past me, toward the house. I turned and saw a few of the DC-ers standing in the window, peering through blinds.
“Great,” Kat said. “Now everyone knows.”
“Who cares?” I asked.
“I do! I’m not ready to be looked at this way. To be called names and treated differently by my family ... ” she trailed off. Fresh tears welled in her eyes. I went in to hug her, and she shoved me back.
“Find somebody else to drive you home,” she said, opening the driver’s side door with a creak. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Come on, Kat,” I tried once more, knowing full-well it wasn’t going to work.
“Goodbye, Dessa.” And with a slam, Kat cranked her car’s engine to life, whipped around in a U-turn, and drove off.
•••
Max Goodman gave me a ride home. He was tall and his car was tiny, so when he sat behind the wheel, it was almost comical. He wore a plain white T-shirt emblazoned with the logo for the school’s marching band. A large case holding either a tuba or a dead body filled the entire backseat.
He was nervous the whole way, fidgeting with the radio and apologizing for the lack of good music. I wondered briefly if he thought we were on a date, or that he was going to score when we pulled into my driveway. Maybe he just wasn’t used to having a girl riding beside him.
Every ounce of joy I’d experienced that night was washed out of me. I clutched my phone tight, hoping for Kat to call, but she didn’t.
When Max pulled into my driveway, I quickly opened the door. “Thanks for the lift,” I muttered.
“See you tomorrow at school!” He tried to sound cheerful, but it wasn’t having any effect on me.
I was heartbroken.
CHAPTER NINE
I barely slept. I kept twisting and turning in bed. My sheets felt thick, pressing down on my legs and chest. I remember kicking them off until they slid onto the floor at some point. I checked my phone several times, hoping to see a text from Kat.
Nothing.
I started to write one to her, then thought better of it.
Also, I’ll admit, I cried.
When the sun cracked thr
ough the slats of my window blinds, I’d maybe gotten an hour of sleep. I could practically feel the bags under my burning eyes.
“I see someone enjoyed celebrating the show’s success last night,” Dad said, sipping from a coffee mug as I walked like a zombie into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” was all I could muster. I didn’t want to get into it.
Ike and Beck rushed past me on the way out the door, arguing about Legos and ninjas and the stupid stuff that little dudes argue about. Kat and I have had plenty of silly disagreements over the years. They blew over. They always did.
Will this blow over too?
This was serious. Kat had never yelled at me the way she did the night before. I’d done something pretty awful, even if I hadn’t meant to.
When I walked into school, I didn’t even think about hitting my locker to drop off my bag. Instead, I beelined it toward Kat’s. I was determined to camp out there until she showed up.
No camping was necessary, though. As I rounded the corner, I spied Kat standing beside her open locker. Arwen was there too, along with William and Maisie and a handful of other students. Some random classmates passed by. Some loitered at their lockers. And a tall, thickly-built jerk was facing Kat.
“Ugh ... Coen,” I muttered, coming to a stop.
Coen Marsh was in full-harassment mode already, and it wasn’t even eight a.m.
“Is it true?” he asked loudly. “Are you a lesbian, Kat?”
“How ... how did you ... ” Kat stammered.
“Luke’s bro told him last night, and he dropped me a text. Said you and Dessa got into it after you came out.” He stepped closer to her. “Is it true?”
“Well ... ”
“Oh, my God!” he shouted for the whole crowd to hear. “Kat Beckford is totally a lesbo!”
Kids snickered. Whispered to one another. It felt as though one of the auditorium spotlights was shining right on Kat. I walked fast down the hall, wondering why there wasn’t a teacher around.
“Come on, Kat,” Arwen said as she threaded her fingers into Kat’s. Kat quickly shook her hand free.
High Drama Page 4