I’m exhausted when my alarm goes off at seven-thirty, but I still feel bubbly with happiness from last night’s conversation. It’s possible Zoe was being nice only because she knew I was upset, but she certainly seemed to enjoy our talk as much as I did. If the two of us are going to be good friends, maybe my summer at Allerdale will actually be worth something.
Zoe’s rehearsal doesn’t start until ten today, and I get ready as quietly as I can so I won’t disturb her. I’m in such a good mood that I want to make other people happy, too, so half an hour before my crew call, I head to Kayla’s Cakes in town and buy doughnuts for the lighting crew. The decor inside the shop kind of creeps me out—there are mounted taxidermy animals all over the walls and counters. But I’m sure the doughnuts will still taste good, and this gesture might finally earn me some respect from the tech people.
When I get to the theater, most of the crew is already there, quietly smoking and sipping their coffee. But the second I put my pink pastry box down on the loading dock, everyone starts wolf-whistling and whooping. Douchebands pats me on the back. “Nicely done, new girl. Doughnuts the first week! I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I move away from him with the excuse of undoing the tape on the box; I want the crew to be friendly, but not that kind of friendly. “I mean, why wait when doughnuts are involved?” I answer.
“That’s what I always say.” Douchebands takes a chocolate one and crams it into his mouth.
Courtney reaches into the box and selects a coconut doughnut. “Congratulations,” she says, which doesn’t really make any sense, but at least she doesn’t sound like she wants to kill me.
“Enjoy,” I say.
“Oh, I will.”
Solomon shows up and makes a beeline for the doughnuts. “You again?” she asks Douchebands.
He shakes his head. “Not today.”
“Who brought these?”
“I did,” I say, and I give her a big smile.
“Loud and proud,” says a guy with dreadlocks. “Nice.”
“Knock it off, Lamar.” Solomon turns to me. “I respect a girl who learns the rules quickly. Thanks for the doughnuts.”
“No problem,” I say, but I’m really confused now. I’m clearly missing something here, but if there was a rule about doughnuts, wouldn’t my family have told me?
“Get inside,” Solomon says. “The designer’s here, and focus starts in ten minutes. Brooklyn, stick with Courtney today, okay? She’ll show you what to do.”
“Okay,” I say, and when Courtney doesn’t roll her eyes, I know I’ve taken a step in the right direction. I make a big show of attaching my wrench to my belt as I follow her into the theater, and she actually smiles at me. I consider asking her about the doughnuts, but I don’t want to look completely stupid in front of her again, so I keep quiet.
Focus sounds like some sort of relaxation exercise my mom would be into, but it turns out to mean pointing the lights in the right directions and attaching gels, thin pieces of plastic that diffuse and color the beams. Courtney and I are assigned to the lights on the second catwalk, and the designer stands onstage, waving his hands around to indicate where he wants us to point them. I’m pretty slow and clumsy with my wrench, and my first couple of lights take so long, I can see the designer getting frustrated. But Courtney is surprisingly patient with me, and after a while, it starts to get easier. Every time one of the guys on the crew walks by, he smiles at me, which is a distinct improvement over the way they’ve ignored me all week. Courtney keeps snapping at them to leave me alone, and I wonder if maybe she’s a little jealous.
By the time the day is over, I’ve successfully focused a bunch of lights by myself. As I leave, Solomon says, “Good work today,” and I actually feel like it’s genuine. It’s the first time I’ve left the theater with a feeling of accomplished exhaustion instead of humiliated exhaustion, and all I want to do is tell Zoe about it.
I check the electronic call board on my phone and see that she gets out of Midsummer rehearsal in twenty minutes, so I head over to Haydu to wait for her. The dance studio has a window set into the door, and through it I see the woman playing Titania, queen of the fairies, doing a monologue in the center of the room. Zoe and the rest of the fairies are running and leaping and spinning around her, gorgeous and graceful. When the choreographer stops the girls, Zoe leans over and says something to Livvy, who laughs. It’s so unfair that all these people get to spend entire days in this room with her while I’m stuck in the catwalks.
Rehearsal finally ends, and everyone puts on their shoes and gathers their things. When Zoe heads toward the door, my hand flies up to make sure my hair looks okay, and then I immediately feel ridiculous. Why would she care how my hair looks?
“Hey!” she calls when she notices me. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d see if you guys were done before I went to dinner.”
“Aw, thanks for waiting,” she says, like I have this whole other group of friends I could be eating with instead.