Inside the church, it was hot enough to bake a pie. Scarlett dropped her bag to the ground with a thud, forgetting her computer was inside, and not really caring when she remembered. The actors buzzed around her, plucking their costumes from the racks. People said hi to her and tried to start conversations, but she couldn’t speak. She slipped up to the space behind the stage.
Mrs. Amberson and Trevor were conferring away, and Spencer was circling the stage on the unicycle, trying out some bounces. He was already dressed in his comic suit. All the sights were familiar, but it all felt distant and crazy. She put her head against the wall and tried to breathe deeply.
“All right!” Mrs. Amberson called. “We’re going to run Spencer and Eric’s fight first just to get the mechanics down. Let’s clear some space for them.”
Oh, no. The plan was still rolling on to its horrible conclusion.
“Scarlett!” she said. “Scarlett, where are you? We need you to read Hamlet’s lines while he gets changed.”
She was barely aware of stepping out on the stage and taking the script Paulette was holding out in her direction. Spencer had stopped circling and was staring in her direction, brows furrowed. She turned away from him as much as she could. Eric appeared a moment later, buttoning up his shirt quickly and rolling his sleeves. He didn’t look in her direction.
“Okay,” Mrs. Amberson said, slipping her a subtle wink. “We’re going to work out the mechanics of the fight. The important thing is that you just stay still while they work, okay?”
This was all just noise to Scarlett. She went over and stood in the spot that Mrs. Amberson was pointing to. Eric and Spencer got into position behind her. Spencer was still studying her out of the corner of his eye. He knew something was going on, and that made her panic more.
“And…go!” Trevor said.
Eric immediately grabbed Spencer by the neck to drag him over to her. Spencer rolled out of this, tripping Eric expertly in the process. He landed right below her. Eric was literally at her feet. What was happening? Why were her ears ringing?
“What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?” he asked.
Scarlett’s mind faintly registered that she should be looking at the page. The words swam in front of her.
“Compounded it with dust,” she read. “Whereto ’tis kin.”
Her voice was a squeak.
“A little louder,” Mrs. Amberson directed.
“Compounded it with dust,” she read again, not really much louder. “Whereto ’tis kin.”
Spencer made an escape off to the side, and Eric bounced up from the floor to catch him. They slapped each other around a little on the other side of the stage, giving Scarlett a chance to get her balance. All she had to do was make it a few more minutes…
The smack startled her again.
Spencer was flipped over backward onto his face. Same trick as ever. Everyone in the room broke into laughter, except for her.
“Now, Spencer, get up!” Trevor yelled. “Get over there, turn him around, and hit him.”
This part may have been new, not that she cared. Her job was to stand still and let the world spin around her. Then she could go and puke and curl up into a ball and die.
Spencer pulled himself up and strode over as directed. Scarlett saw him move Eric into position, and Eric responded like a partner in a dance, turning himself so that his body would block the trick. He drew his right arm back dramatically, the comic buildup to the punch. Something unusual passed over Spencer’s face—something Scarlett had only seen a handful of times before.
Instead of his fist flying past Eric’s face, a move they’d practiced a hundred times, something went wrong. There was a dull noise, not like the sharp fake-punch sound they produced through trickery. Eric staggered, but not a calculated, staged stagger—a real staggering stagger that concluded with him losing his balance and falling to the floor. He landed on his back, hard.
Scarlett decided it was time to go. Immediately.
MISS CALCULATIONS
Every head turned away from the carnage on stage to watch as Scarlett made her wobbling, half-running way out of the darkened room into the blinding sunlight. She allowed her legs to follow their instincts. She rounded the building and headed for the playground. There was a low brick wall on the far side. She ducked behind it and sat on the ground, collapsing her face into her knees.
She was alone for several minutes, except for a few brave pigeons that would not be scared off by a human running at them, arms flapping in the wind. She tried to block everything out—shutting her eyes. But it was all still there. The girl. The look on his face. Eric crumpled on the stage.
She soon became aware that someone was standing nearby, but it didn’t seem worth it to look up and see who it was. The person slid down the wall and sat next to her.
“Do you remember when I accidentally set fire to myself?” Spencer asked.