Backstage Cues

Chapter One

by Wayne Sung, Kelson Vibber, Jason Lomeli, and Dan van der Elst

(Wayne)

"Testing, testing. One. Two. Three."

poom pum

"Is this thing on?"

CRASH! clank clunk

"Oops."

"You know, Will, you are NOT going to attract many girls that way."

I looked up to see Talia Minkse looking back at me blandly with a wry smile.

I smiled sheepishly, righting the toppled microphone stand, then winked. "Hey, I attracted you, right?"

Talia sidled up to the stage, jumped on, and returned the microphone from where it had flown into the chairs.

"I came to put you out of your misery, hotshot." Her eyes twinkled.

"Gee, thanks."

"Hey, what are best friends for?" A tap on the shoulder and she was gone, backstage.

I stood for a moment longer. "Only a best friend?" and went backstage after her.

"Wow, Will, I didn't know you had so much done, already."

Talia twirled around, admiring my set pieces. "The school talent show is sure to be a hit now."

I smiled at her excitement. So full of energy and life was Talia. Her dark hair always seemed to take in whatever light there was and radiate it back tenfold, giving both her hair and skin a sheen I could never tire of admiring.

"Don't forget you're doing an act yourself." I walk past the full length mirror we keep backstage and saw an average height, tousled blond-haired boy with Lenscrafter glasses and a slight slouch. Gap clothes might be nicer than the Thespian society T-shirt and jeans I was wearing. . .

"Yeah, Will."

I shook myself and chided myself on my inattentiveness.

"And with your set pieces, we'll be the life of the show."

I blushed.

"Well, Will, I'd better go and finish that history paper before rehearsal this evening." Talia reached up for my cheek.

I turned. "Sure, see mmpff. . ."

The kiss lasted for a long time.

We broke away flustered, yet not entirely unhappy. . .

(Kelson)

"I, uh. . ."

Just then Suzie Kromer burst through the curtains, demanding of the world, "Where the hell is it!!?"

Talia and I hastily backed away from each other, trying desperately to look nonchalant.

"What?" I asked as Suzie barrelled between us to the stage left wing.

"My hat, that's what!" She didn't slow down as she vanished into the darkened wings.

I shouted after her, "Watch out for the. . ."

CRASH!!!

. . . .

So much for my set pieces.

A stream of obscenities shot across the stage as Talia and I headed into the wings. Actually, that's not entirely true. Talia went straight for the work lights, which came on as I reached the wing. Suzie had, naturally, sustained less damage than my scenery, though it wasn't quite as bad as I'd feared. One piece was snapped in half, but the others would need only touch-up on the paint. Suzie herself looked like she'd walk away with a bruised shin. Fortunate for her gymnastics act.

"Who put this here!!" Suzie screamed.

"They were leaning against the wall when I left them," I said. "I don't know who put them in the legs."

"Well MY legs are going to be bruised tonight!!" Hmmm... Her short skirt outfit might be a problem then.

By this time Talia had joined us. "It's not his fault, Suzie! Oh, and I found your hat over by the work lights."

Suzie snatched the glitter-encrusted hat from Talia and pointed at her legs, fuming. "And how am I supposed to perform with -- with --" She was on the verge of tears.

"Wear tights?" I suggested.

Suzie suddenly stopped. "Oh. Yeah. That could work." Quietly, she walked out toward the front of the stage.

I inspected my set pieces again, and Talia put her hand on my shoulder. I turned to her. "Talia, I. . ."

She smiled shyly. "I, um. . ." We kissed again, briefly, softly, then stepped back from each other.

"I'd better start repairing these," I said.

(Jason)

Talia looked like she was going to giggle, but didn't; she only nodded and walked back out the wing, calling back from the stage, "See you tonight, Will."

"See you."

*    *    *    *

I got the paints out only after deciding what to do with the broken piece: I threw it away. The crack was splintered; even if I glued it back together, no amount of retouching would hide the shredded edges of the join. I'd just have to start a new piece from the shop.

Painting didn't take very long, but when I finally left the theatre it was already pretty dark. A look at my watch told me that I had just barely enough time to get home and change -- there were a few smudges of paint on my shirt -- and get to rehearsal. Dinner would have to wait, or I might find something to munch on on the run. . .

"Will," said a voice, and something warm pressed against my back.

I let out an adrenaline-powered squeal and abruptly found myself two feet to my own left, whirling around. When I saw who it was, my heart started beating again, double-time.

"Talia," I gasped. "Crud's sake. Let me put my skin back on, willya?"

(Dan)

Her face was hard to make out in the dark, with halos of light in her eyes from the street lamps, but what I saw disturbed me. Her eyes weren't playful like they were earlier; they were wide and, if I wasn't mistaken, frightened.

"Something's wrong," I said.

She nodded silently and started walking back toward the theatre.

"What is it?" I called after her, and she stopped and looked back at me.

"Come on," was all she said, and I followed.

The doors were still unlocked, but the lights were out and we fumbled around for the electrical box. Talia still refused to say anything. Once the lights were on, she led me to the theatre and stopped at the door to a utility room.

"I want you to see this," she said as she opened the door. I went in first and Talia stood at my shoulder.

"What is--" I began to ask, but then I noticed the far wall.

"I came in early to visit you. It was going to be a surprise. . . but I saw this door open and I looked inside. . ." She trailed off as I took a few slow steps forward, gaping at what covered the wall from floor to ceiling.

They were words -- just words, I kept telling myself. Thousands of tiny little word. . . describing in exquisite detail my and Talia's deaths. My eyes popped a little at a particularly creative part.

"This is. . ." I stammered in disbelief.

"Suzie's handwriting," Talia finished for me. "I don't think she left after that little scene of hers earlier. She came here, and. . ."

"Yeah. But why?"

"Maybe she's jealous."

"What?" I turned to Talia. "Why would she. . ." and then I remembered what we had been doing before she blasted into the room. "You don't really think that's it, do you?"

"Well I don't think she was that upset over her silly little hat."

"She hardly even knows me. You're her friend. . . She's always following you around. Wouldn't she have said something about it?"

"Who says she'd be jealous over you?"

"Well, who else--" I stopped myself, and Talia nodded. "Oh," I said. "So you're saying she's, um, y'know?" I made a vague motion with my hands.

"What?" Talia cried. "That's ridiculous."

"But you said--"

"I meant maybe she's jealous about losing my friendship. . . You know how it can be."

"Yeah," I nodded, even though I didn't.

"She always tells me these weird stories about her childhood. . . I never really thought much of them. Stuff about never having any real friends, betrayal -- that kind of stuff. Maybe it means more than I thought it did."

"But you don't even like her, Talia."

"I know. . . but I mean, I'm nice to her. Not very many people are."

" 'Cause she's a bitch," I muttered to myself.

"What?" Talia asked.

"Nothing." I squatted next to the wall and started reading more closely.

"If she likes you so much, why does she want to do that to you?" I pointed to a line on the wall.

"Eeew. . ." Talia said with a grimace. "Maybe because she's a bitch."

I looked up at her with surprise.

"Hee hee," she said.

"This is weird," I mused, getting up and stepping back. "Should we tell somebody?"

"I don't know. I could just try talking to her. I don't think she really means all of this." I saw her eyes dart over to the line on the wall, then back to mine.

"What if she does?"

"I'll just make sure I never leave that open," Talia said, pointing at another word on the wall.

"Well, it makes me a little bit uncomfortable," I said, pinching my fingers to show just how uncomfortable. . . To be honest, I don't think my armspan would have been enough. "Let me walk you home. I don't really feel like rehearsal tonight."

"Naturally."

We made sure the door was shut tight before we left, and Talia made a remark about how the janitor was going to feel tomorrow. Nothing fazed that girl. On the way to her house I didn't say much. I kept chiding myself for looking at all the dark bushes. Suzie was just being melodramatic, I told myself. An over-actor over-acting again. What really made me feel weird was the thought that she hadn't left the theatre after getting her hat. The whole time I was doing set work she had been in that closet, covering the wall with. . . I had to admit, she did have a decent handle on figurative language.

"I'll come up with an excuse for missing rehearsal, call around, make sure everything's fine," I said at Talia's driveway. We stopped and looked at the houses then at each other.

"So, finish the history paper?" I asked.

"Naw. . ." she said disinterestedly. "It's taking a long time."

"You got some writing done while you were gone, right?"

"Um... yeah, I guess I did."

We stood silently for a moment.

"So, good night," I said clumsily.

"Yeah, good night," she said back, looking down at the ground, then into my eyes, then at the ground, over and over.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked, reaching out to brush her arm, sliding down to take her hand. She coughed suddenly and pulled her hand away to cover her mouth. The hand went down to her side again. I frowned ever so slightly, and she flashed me a quick little smile. It looked like a grimace in the lamplight.

"Night, Will." She turned and walked up the driveway.

"If there's anything you need--" I called, and she turned and gave me another quick smile before continuing to the porch. She went inside without looking back, and I went on my way up the street, a little confused. We were supposed to kiss again, right? That's the way it worked. I should have done something. . . but she seemed a little odd. Like she didn't want me to. Oh well. It had to be Suzie's little demonstration. Yeah, that was it.

I walked to my house, this time staring pretty much openly at the bushes and shadows. With Talia gone my ego had no reason to help me out, so it left and my imagination took its place. I'm telling you, that writing had some very interesting figurative language. I was sweating a little by the time I was safe at home, windows locked and deadbolt thrown, and I lay awake for a long time before sleep came.

*    *    *    *

(Kelson)

As I slept, the image of that wall came to me over and over, like the inspector in Crime and Punishment -- taunting me, threatening me. Enhanced by an overactive imagination, it took on an even more threatening aspect. The dirty white wall of the wiring closet, covered with inscriptions not in Suzie's handwriting, but in some sinister ancient script which seemed to crawl across the surface at the edge of my vision. And blood -- two bright red splotches about halfway up the wall, trails oozing down, with dried brown splattered all across the wall. Every time the image returned, the blood was thicker, almost as if the wall itself were bleeding.

Once I woke up with a feeling that I had been fleeing something (though I'm not sure it was Suzie). Though I was horrendously tired from my insomnia, I tried desperately to avoid falling asleep. Five minutes later, I was running through a maze covered with evil, cabalistic characters.

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