Cut the Lights (7 page)

“I like it too,” I say quickly, before a fight erupts. “George, can you book the rest of our rehearsals in our performance room? If we can't get it, any classroom will do.”

“Yeah, sure,” George says eagerly.

“Thanks.” I'll need to check later that he's done it.

Then Sonata starts in on all the blocking she doesn't like. I stiffen, trying to listen without interrupting her. Finally, I say, “I'll think about your ideas. We can try out some of them in rehearsal, but remember that I have the final say.”

Sonata sucks in her cheeks and says nothing.

Mica is still withdrawn. I don't want to force him to speak, so I move on to Clayton.

“What about you, Clayton?” I ask.

“Huh?”

Inspiring Clayton may be impossible. “Well,” I begin, “I know you haven't been comfortable with your character—the glitter and all. Since I have to work out costumes over the next week, I thought maybe we could tweak things, help you find a way into this character.”

“I guess.” Clayton gives the usual shrug, but he seems relieved. Maybe I should have listened to him earlier.

“What about his arm?” Sonata says. “Since when does a Star have a broken arm?”

“Maybe he's a fallen star?” George asks.

Mica snorts. Sonata raises one eyebrow.

“You know, that could actually work.” I scribble a note to myself, thinking how we could add in a line or two, with Ratna's approval. “Okay, enough chatting.” I stand up before Sonata can object to George's idea.

I grab my backpack off the floor, ready to reveal my new warm-up plan.

“I want to start today's rehearsal with a game of Twister.” I pull the spinner and mat from my backpack.

Everyone looks surprised.

“Why?” Sonata's tone is cold.

“I knew you'd ask.” I smile, even though I'm not sure if Twister will do what I want it to. “It'll remind us that this Fringe Festival is supposed to be fun. And”—I glance from Mica to Sonata—“it'll help us get more comfortable with one another.”

“But it's a kids' game!” Mica says.

“Yup.” I lay out the mat.

“How is Clayton supposed to do it?” Sonata's lip curls into a sneer.

“He can just use one arm. Let's get started. You too, George. I'll work the spinner.” I give it a twirl. “Left foot on red,” I announce.

People from other groups watch us curiously. I turn my back on them.

As we play, Mica avoids touching Sonata and ends up pretzeled at one end of the mat. Wiry Clayton is surprisingly good at it even with only one arm. George is having too much fun to care whether he wins. Sonata places each hand or foot precisely on the mat.

When George finally makes everyone collapse in a heap, Mica leaps up while the others laugh. From across the room, Samuel gives me a thumbs-up. A few actors watch as if they want to join in. Mr. Ty nods, which is great.

But I still need to get the play working.

We run through a few scenes. When I incorporate two of Sonata's blocking ideas, her shoulders relax slightly. And Sonata and Mica's stage chemistry isn't too horrible. Sonata is more aloof now, which works well with her character's failing marriage. Mica's hurt expression fits better since his character doesn't understand why his wife is so demanding. It must be hell for Mica to act with Sonata now that she's rejected him.

Eventually, we wrap up and head out. Mr. Ty follows me, his pile of marking under one arm.

“Twister was a nice touch,” he says. “How did you come up with it?”

A grin spreads across my face. “I just grabbed it out of my closet this morning. I thought it might help.” I don't tell him that I was staring hopelessly around my room, desperate to find some way to get Sonata and Mica to work together.

“Good instincts.” Mr. Ty opens the cafeteria door for me.

“Thanks.” I walk through feeling eight feet tall, until I see Mica scurrying down the hall like a wounded animal and Sonata striding the opposite way.

I shrink down to size.

Obviously, one good rehearsal is not enough.

Eleven

Outside Whitlock. Monday after school. A stream of students follows the worn path through the trees to the street. The smell of cigarettes wafts from the smokers' corner, near the sidewalk.

I trudge toward the bus stop. A squirrel leaps over some dandelions with more energy than I have. Today's rehearsal was exhausting, but at least we've blocked the whole play—finally.

I catch sight of Mica up ahead. His shoulders are rounded, and his head droops. God, he's taking Sonata's rejection hard. In rehearsal, Sonata was as high-strung as usual, and she looked right through Mica when they were offstage. Nice.

I hurry to catch up with him, thinking I can take him to Bean Me Up for a coffee and a pep talk—until I remember that's where it all went wrong for him.

I change my tactic.

“Hey, Mica?” I fall in step with him. “Do you like frozen yogurt? Now that the weather's warmer, I have this craving for pistachio yogurt at Menchie's, and...well...do you want to come?”

He nods. “I like that place.”

“Great. Are you busy now?” I remember how he used to try to get Sonata to go for coffee with him after rehearsal.

“Uh, no.” He kicks a stone along the path.

It's a five-minute walk in the opposite direction from Bean Me Up. We talk about his character on the way over—how oblivious Martin Wright is when Sylvia throws a slipper at him.

“He can be thick-skinned,” Mica says.

“Nothing like you.” I smile.

When we arrive, the shop is crowded with loud preteen girls who seem to fluster him. The bright décor is almost gaudy, and the girl behind the counter is overly cheerful.

We each grab a waffle bowl. I go for a nonfat pistachio yogurt with hot fudge, while Mica gets Red Velvet Royale with jelly beans, marshmallows and anything else he can pile on it. Then we escape to the patio overlooking the tree-lined side street.

Mica hunches over his bowl and digs in. I put my feet up on a nearby chair and take a bite of waffle mixed with yogurt, which tastes fabulous, as usual. I wonder how I can help Mica get over Sonata, or at least be able to tolerate her presence. Twister warm-ups are a start. Still, it's obvious that he's hurting.

“In the play, Sylvia's too hard on Martin.” I keep my tone casual, even though I'm thinking about how Sonata's been too hard on Mica. “He's not perfect, but everyone deserves respect.”

“Yeah.” He takes a huge bite of yogurt.

“He doesn't talk about his feelings, but I think she really upsets him.”

He looks sideways at me, still chewing. “It's a comedy, Briar.”

“It has a serious side too.” I twirl my spoon in my yogurt.

“I guess.”

“Sylvia's giving up on a good guy,” I say.

Mica swipes his hair out of his eyes. “Who are we talking about here? Sylvia or Sonata?”

“What do you mean?” I widen my eyes and pretend not to get it.

Mica shakes his head. “You're so subtle.”

“I'm just saying that Martin has a lot to offer. Maybe he needs to find a different girl. One who suits him better.” I stuff my mouth full of yogurt.

Mica stares into the distance. “Maybe you're right.”

The main-floor drama room. Wednesday after school. One week to opening
.

I arrive at rehearsal with a box of costumes and props. Sonata, Clayton and George are already there. Mica follows me in. When he tries to help carry my load, I brush him off.

“I've got a surprise!” My voice rises. I'm so much happier rehearsing away from Lorna and the others.

“I hope you're not putting me in an ape suit.” Mica smirks.

“How'd you guess?” I say. After our frozen yogurt, he's more relaxed with me, although he still avoids Sonata when he can.

“I don't like surprises,” Sonata says.

“It's not really for you.” I won't let her ruin my good mood. “It's for Clayton.”

“Me?” Clayton squirms.

“I promised I'd rework your character, and I did.” I rifle through the clothes. “Can you moonwalk?”

“What? Why?”

“I've heard you're in hip-hop club, so I know you can move.” I glance up at him. “But moonwalking?”

Clayton gives me a quizzical look. Then he jumps onto the stage and moonwalks across it.

George hoots. Even Sonata applauds.

I pick up his costume, piece by piece, and pass it to him. A black faux-leather suit with a pink shirt and bow tie, and a single white rhinestone glove—all from the Whitlock costume room. “Looks like you earned these.”

“What's going on?” Sonata says. “Briar—”

“Let me explain.” I hold up my hands. “The word ‘star' has two meanings. Clayton's character is a star in the sky, but he can also be the other type of star.” I pause as everyone stares at Clayton's costume. “I'm playing our Star character with a Michael Jackson theme.”

“What?” Sonata gapes.

Mica nods at Clayton. “You even look a bit like him.”

“Cool,” George says.

A grin creeps across Clayton's face.

“Each time you're about to come onstage, we'll play the beginning of ‘Billie Jean,' and then you can moonwalk in,” I say. “Michael Jackson wore an outfit like this one in his music video, and he first did the moonwalk during a performance of ‘Billie Jean.'”

“I suppose that will work, but what about his broken arm?” Sonata gestures at Clayton's cast and sling.

“Ratna's added two new lines. The first time we see the Star, Sonata will say, ‘What happened to your arm?' And then Clayton will say, ‘I fell.'”

George snorts. “It's my fallen star idea!”

“Yup. I hope it'll get a laugh.” I turn to Clayton. “So what do you think? It'll modernize the play—we'll set it in the eighties instead of the fifties.”

Clayton pulls on the glove. “I can get into this.”

“Great!” I say, relieved.

“What will Mica and I wear?” Sonata eyes the rest of the pile I've lugged in.

“I'm sticking with mismatched outfits for Sylvia and Martin.” I show everyone a plaid suit for Mica and a dress with a zigzag print and fluffy orange slippers for Sonata. I also have the multicolored apron that Darla gave to Mom and two of Mom's dishtowels. “I hope the clothes fit.”

The jacket is too big for Mica, but it's better than too small. Sonata slips behind a curtain to change into the dress. It fits her beautifully—she looks good no matter what she wears. With his small frame, pert nose and curly black hair, Clayton pulls off a terrific Michael Jackson.

George takes photos of them for the program—my Martin, Sylvia and Star. They're so perfect, it makes my eyes water.

Mica, Sonata and Clayton change back into their regular clothes for rehearsal. George and I take our positions in the audience. The opening scene goes well, but Mica's acting is flat in the slipper-throwing sequence.

“Okay,” I say. “Let's run through that scene again, but this time—”

“Not again, Briar!” Sonata's neck muscles are pulled tight. “We need to—”

“Thanks, but I'll decide what we rehearse.” I ignore her dark look. “Although I do want to talk about your character's needs in this scene,” I say, crossing my fingers that she'll cooperate. “What do you think Sylvia wants?”

Sonata leans against our makeshift sink, sighing loudly. “She wants to get Martin's attention, to make him notice her now that he's home. She doesn't want him to work after dinner, like he always does.”

“Great. I love the detail about working after dinner.” I praise her, since she really does know how to get into character. “And what are your character's objectives here, Mica?”

He glances at Clayton, who shrugs. “Uh, I'm not sure,” he finally says.

Sonata folds her arms, frowning. “Martin wants to—”

“Let Mica do it,” I interrupt. Spots of color appear on her cheeks. I turn to him. “Okay, Mica. Let me say it this way. What does your character want at this moment in the play?”

“Uh”—he examines the stage lights—“to understand?”

George gives him a thumbs-up.

“Good.” I nod. “Can you get more specific? To understand what?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Well, Martin asks Sylvia if she hired a chef. So what clue does that give? Does he want to understand why she threw a slipper at him?”

“No. He wants his dinner.”

“Great. When does he want his dinner?”

“Now.”

“Why?”

He fidgets. “Because he's hungry. He missed lunch because of a meeting.”

“That's it! That's Martin's objective in this scene. Let's run through it again with that in mind.”

“Okay.” Mica wipes his sweaty forehead.

I smile as Mica delivers his lines perfectly, glancing around the kitchen in hopeful anticipation of a delicious meal.