“These are…” I searched for a word that could sound complimentary without being a complete lie.
“It’s okay,” Zale sighed, plopping down on the other bin in defeat. “You can say it.”
I sat beside him. “They’re in rough shape, but that’s not your fault. I mean, if all your families make such a big deal about this pageant, why don’t they buy you guys some better materials?”
“Because they’re all obsessed with tradition. They like seeing the same dilapidated crap they wore when they did the pageant a hundred years ago,” Zale said. “Every year the kids are bored out of their minds, but no one ever does anything about it. I thought, since I was voted director this year, that I might finally be able to convince people to put some effort in and switch it up. You can see how well that’s gone, so far.”
“Don’t give up so easily! I’m sure we can… well…” I looked at the crown still clutched in my hands. Some gold paint had already flaked off onto my skin.
“See? What’s the point?” Zale said. “We’ll just do the same old thing we’ve done for a million years.”
“There’s got to be a way to… hang on.” My eyes, ranging out over the seats again in search of inspiration, had lighted on Luca Meyers; and an idea popped into my head. “I’ll be right back,” I told Zale, as I jumped off the stage and headed up the aisle.
Luca watched me as I approached, and I felt myself suddenly feeling awkward. Why did I walk like that? What was I doing with my arms? Did I always slouch this much?
“Luca, right?” I asked, when I stumbled to a halt beside his seat.
“Yeah,” he said. “And you’re Wren, right? Wren Vesper?”
I blinked. “How did you know that?”
He smiled. “You signed in at the box office, remember?”
A blush of mortification flooded my cheeks. “Oh. Right. Anyway, I was just wondering, does the playhouse have a costume collection on site, or do you rent everything?”
Luca looked surprised at the question, but readily replied, “There’s a whole costume department. Most of our costumes are made in-house, and stored here as well. Sometimes they get rented out to other theaters, but usually most everything is here. Why?”
“How about props and scenery?”
“Generally, unless it’s something really complex, all that stuff gets constructed here for each show. We’ve got full shops out on the other side of the parking lot.”
“Do you think it would be okay if we… maybe borrowed some stuff? I’m not sure if Zale has any kind of budget, but maybe we could promote the theater—call it out as a sponsor of the pageant or something?”
Luca shrugged. “I can ask my dad. He’s always looking for new ways to drum up publicity.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said. “Uh… let me know, I guess.”
“How?”
“Huh?”
“How should I let you know?”
It was the most obvious question for him to ask, and yet I felt completely blindsided by it. For some reason I couldn’t quite pinpoint, the thought of offering him my phone number made me want to sink straight through the floor and never resurface. It was the rational thing to do, by far the most efficient way to pass along information to me, and I absolutely could not bring myself to do it. Instead, I said, “Um, I’ll stop by here tomorrow around lunchtime. Will you be here?”
“Sure,” Luca said. “Not at the boxoffice, though. My uncle will have me landscaping out near the parking lot.”
“Okay, I’ll uh… I’ll see you there,” I said, and for some reason I couldn’t fathom, I waved at him like he wasn’t sitting five feet in front of me. “Uh, thanks. Bye.”
I walked back up to the front of the theater, feeling my face burning and wildly grateful that everyone was too caught up in their ridiculous pageant reenactment to notice me.
“What was that about?” Zale asked.
“I asked Luca if he thought we might be able to use some costumes and stuff from the playhouse. He’s going to let me know.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea!” Zale said, perking up at once.
“Is it really? To be honest, I can’t believe no one ever thought to ask that before,” I said. “It seems kind of obvious.”
