My Life After Now

38

Let Me Entertain You




“Fifteen to places!” the stage manager announced to the women’s dressing room.

“Thank you, fifteen!” we responded in chorus.

I applied another layer of fire-engine red lipstick and stepped back to survey myself in the full-length mirror. Calf-high lace-up boots? Check. Red corset and prop sword? Check. Exposed upper arm threaded with dozens of black stitches? Check.

I grinned. I was going to be the most badass Mercutio this play had ever seen.

The energy backstage was electric, the way it can only be on opening night. I ran my hands along the thick, royal blue curtain until I found a breach and peeked, sleuth-like, out into the house. It was a sold-out show, and most seats were already occupied, but I sifted through the dense crowd until I found my people. Dad and Papa, having bought their tickets months ago, were sitting fourth row center, an enormous bouquet of roses laid across both of their laps. Lisa was a few rows behind them on the far side aisle. Papa kept glancing back every few seconds to make sure she was still there.

My attention shifted up to the balcony, where I located Roxie, her little brother Alex, June, Ahmed, and at least six or seven other members of the support group. Roxie had canceled tonight’s meeting so they could all come support me. My stomach turned over with a swell of appreciation as I watched them eagerly reading their programs and chatting.

“Cheater,” said a voice from behind, making me jump.

I quickly pulled the curtain closed and turned to find Evan standing there, a smirk on his face. Something stirred in me as my eyes drank him in. His white shirt was unlaced at the neck, his hair molded into deliberate disarray, his sword slung coolly over his shoulder. But I quickly told myself to snap out of it. So he looked good in his costume. It didn’t mean I should jump right back into a relationship with the guy.

“What?”

“You’re not supposed to sneak a look at the audience before the curtain goes up,” he said. “Takes all the fun out of it.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said, grinning. “I think knowing how many people are out there makes it more exciting.”

He rolled his eyes.

“So, break a leg tonight,” I said.

“You too. Or should I say ‘pop a stitch’?”

“Don’t even think it!” I said, instinctively checking to make sure my stitches were secure. “More bloodshed on this stage is the last thing we need.”

“You’ll get no argument from me there,” he agreed.

Max and Courtney joined us then. They looked so cute, in their matching powder blue Capulet and Lady Capulet costumes.

“Damn, Luce, you look hot,” Max said, eyeing me with raised eyebrows. Then he got a little mischievous glint in his eye and conspicuously turned to Evan. “Doesn’t she look hot, Evan?”

“Max!” I hissed, before Evan could say anything. I shot Max an I’m-going-to-kill-you look. “Cut it out,” I mouthed.

Max just batted his eyelashes and looked back at me innocently.

“You really do look good, though, Lucy,” Courtney said. “Way better than this contraption I’m strapped into.”

I giggled. Her dress was pretty huge. But it looked good on her, in a stately sort of way. Perfect for the character. “Steven Kimani won’t be able to take his eyes off of you,” I assured her with a grin.

At the mere mention of Steven’s name, Courtney’s eyes got all dreamy and she was beaming like a love-struck schoolgirl. Which, I guess, was what she was. “He sent me flowers backstage,” she said.

“Good!” I said with approval. “He’d better keep it up too, or he’ll have the wrath of me to contend with.” I patted my sword meaningfully.

“Ooh, scary!” Max said mockingly.

“Places!” the stage manager yelled, crossing the stage with an authoritative stride while simultaneously adjusting the frequency on her headset. “Places, everyone! Right now!”

The four of us took a second for a pre-show group hug and then dispersed to our respective places in the wings. I didn’t have to be on stage for a few scenes yet, so I stood off to the side and closed my eyes, letting my head fill up with the beautiful sounds of flats being wheeled out and the flurry of heels clacking against the wooden floor and scores of excited whispers and the stage manager murmuring cues to the light booth and orchestra pit.

“Break a leg, baby,” a disembodied male voice interrupted the peaceful drone of stage noises. I squinted through the darkness and was just able to make out the outlines of Ty and Elyse a few feet in front of me. They must not have noticed me standing here.

“You too,” she responded, tapping him playfully on the nose. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Ty crooned.

“No, I love you more!” Elyse countered.

“I love you the most!” he said right back, and Elyse giggled.

Hmph, I thought. Guess they made up. But the observation was wonderfully free of any bitterness or animosity. Those two could have each other for all I cared.

It did fleetingly occur to me that, now that they were back together, Elyse might tell Ty about my being positive. But I couldn’t worry about that now because all at once the orchestra began playing and the curtain was raised to the sound of applause.

A profound thrill coursed through me and I shivered with excitement. There was truly nothing else like this in the world.

Stephanie Gilmore, who was playing the Chorus, stepped into the spotlight and spoke the prologue directly to the audience. “Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

A grin spread across my face. We were underway.

• • •

It was magic. That was the only explanation.

The play that I’d been so certain was cursed, the play that had never once run smoothly in rehearsal, turned out to be perfect in every possible way. By some divine interference, the cast and crew had come together to create something so much bigger than a high school drama production. This was art.

Even I was convinced that Elyse and Ty were meant to be together.

• • •

When the time came for our fight, I gave Evan a quick wink with my upstage eye. We so had this. We fell into step and waged battle on each other. The lights boring down on us had me sweating through my makeup, and I was crying out with each slash of the sword like a tennis player serving a ball. Again and again our weapons collided with ferocity, inducing involuntary gasps and shrieks of anxiety from the audience. I’d never had so much fun in my life.

But then I suffered my mortal wound and everything changed.

Though I’d said these very lines countless times before, suddenly every word I said seemed to be infused with double-meaning.

Ask for me tomorrow and you shall find me a grave woman.

I am peppered, I warrant, for this world.

A plague o’ both your houses!

I fell to the floor as real tears fled down my face.

They have made worms’ meat of me.

I have it, and soundly, too.

Your houses!

Epiphany burst behind my eyelids like fireworks, and everything was abruptly, staggeringly in focus. I lay there, still as a portrait, as the other players continued on without me. But my mind was anything but quiet.

A plague. There was no better word for it. Call it a virus or a disease or an infection. Call it whatever you wanted, but this was truly what it was. A plague. A cureless, indiscriminating, unflinching plague.

I had it. And soundly too.

• • •

The curtain came down, the crowd still on their feet and going wild, and the entire drama club exploded into self-congratulatory celebration. When Andre finally made it past the adoring public and backstage, we quieted down so he could make his traditional post-performance speech.

“I have only one note tonight,” he said, deadpan. “Don’t. Change. Anything!”

We erupted in cheers again, and the party resumed. But I waited for an opening, and when I saw it, snuck away. There was something I had to do.

I quickly changed out of my costume and emerged from the dressing room with my stage makeup still on, hoping I hadn’t missed him. But I was brought up short when I found Evan leaning against the wall, waiting for me.

“Oh. Hi,” I said. I glanced around, but it was just the two of us. Everybody else was still on the stage. “Why aren’t you back there whooping it up with everyone?”

“I saw you duck out. Wanted to see if you were okay,” he said.

I blinked. “Why? Do I seem not okay?”

He considered the question. “You seem fine,” he admitted. “But you’re pretty good at hiding how you’re really feeling, so that doesn’t really mean anything. It seemed like something…happened to you during the show.”

How could he possibly have picked up on that? I’d stayed in character the whole time, I was sure of it.

I searched Evan’s face and what I saw did funny things to my heartbeat. Earnestness. Compassion. Understanding. Love.

He really did care about me.

“Trust you to notice,” I said with a you-caught-me sigh. “Yeah, I had a bit of a moment mid-death. But hey, the play is a tragedy—a little added melodrama can’t hurt, right?”

He stepped closer, his expression serious, and my breathing sped up. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not right now.”

“Well, you know I’m here.”

I looked up into his dark, trusting eyes. “I know.” And then, before I could talk myself out of it, I raised myself up on tippy-toes and kissed him. He gasped in surprise but recovered quickly and pulled me closer to him, kissing me back.

He tasted like Chapstick and orange Tic-Tacs, and there was not one iota of fear or doubt in his entire body.

Entirely too soon, the stage door opened and throngs of hyped-up drama kids poured out. Evan and I pulled apart, matching perma-grins on our faces.

“I have to go take care of something,” I said regretfully. I didn’t want to leave him, but time was of the essence. I may have already been too late. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“Never,” he promised.

• • •

I weaved through the crowded lobby, searching. I spotted my dads mingling with Roxie and my support group supporters over by the coffee table, but I ran past them with my head down. I would talk to them later. Right now I had to find the principal. He always made a point of coming to the drama productions’ opening nights, so he had to be here somewhere. Unless he’d already left. I was really hoping that wasn’t the case, because if I had to wait until Monday to tell him my idea, I might lose my nerve.

Finally I saw him chatting with a few teachers, his rolled-up program sticking out of his jacket pocket.

“Excuse me, Mr. Fisher?” I said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Can I speak with you for a minute?”

Shock crossed his face. “Miss Moore! Um…yes, of course! Shall we step into my office?” I followed him as he unlocked the office door and invited me inside. “What can I do for you, Miss Moore?” He pushed his glasses up on his nose nervously.

I smiled. The man was terrified of me. Probably thought I was going to follow through on my lawsuit threat. I should have strung him along for a little while and let him swelter in his wildest fears, but I was eager to get this over with so I could go back to having fun.

“I have a proposition for you,” I said, and explained my plan.