I lose track of time in the large theatre, the lack of windows making it seem like time ceases to exist. I’m just finishing adding a deeper green hue to some trees when I hear a small sneeze toward the back of the auditorium. I look out but the lights are blinding making it impossible to see. Bill agreed to leave the stage lights on for me as long as I promised to turn them off before I head out.
“Hello?” I ask, the silence eerie as I continue to squint out intothe pool of seats. I move to the edge of the stage using my hands to frame my face and see the small dark haired girl from before, her hair down now, ebony waves shadowing her small face, she has on a pair of cat ear headphones that are a glittery pink color as she stares at her phone. I jump down, walking toward the back of the theater and watch as her eyes flicker up to me.
“You’re still here?” I ask, but she just holds up a finger, signaling for me to hold on before taking off her head phones.
“What?” she asks, her voice short and to the point.
“You’re still here?” I look at her amused. As a former child who also took themselves a little too seriously, I can appreciate the way she doesn’t take shit from anyone, even andespeciallyadults.
“It appears so.” She pushes back on her headphones.
“Isn’t it gettin’ late? Do you need me to call your mom?” I force myself to be friendly, to not come off creepy but the look of disgust she gives me shows I’m failing. She slides back off her headphones, annoyed.
“My mom isn’t coming. She’s at work. I’m waiting for my brother.”
“Ah, I see.” I slide down into the chair beside her and she shuffles her body slightly away. I pull out my phone, checking the time. 8:15 PM. Rehearsal ended about an hour and a half ago. “This brother of yours…he got a watch?” I smile to show I’m kidding but she rolls her eyes.
“He’s at practice. He’ll come after. Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” Her face is completely closed off. Devoid of emotion, so similar to how I was as a kid and I feel this pull toward her.
“Hungry?” I ask, nodding toward the back stage. “I know where they keep all the good snacks.”
She eyes me suspiciously but then stands, heaving a worn out Jan sport over her shoulder.
“Lead the way, Rapunzel."
I roll my eyes but offer her a friendly smile to signal a truce. She doesn’t return it but I know we’re getting somewhere.
We’ve made it halfway through a giant bag of hot Cheetos and are both snorting laughing at almost getting caught by a rogue front of house employee.
“Shhh, we can’t get you kicked out of the program,” I say as we tuck ourselves behind an old box of stage props.
“Program? I’mnotin thisprogram.” She giggles more, elongating the word program like someone imitating Scrooge McDuck.
My brows dip, confused as to how she’s in the show when all the other dancers, with their designer travel bags and dance company logo plastered to the sides of them, are in this elite and very expensive ballet. My eyes land on her Jan sport again, worn and gray, black sharpie crosses out the initials A.S., new initials replacing them. I know a hand me down when I see one, spent years living off them, and my heart instantly flares for the little girl beside me. Not with pity like I’m sure she gets from the rest of Boston’s elite, but with respect, with familiarity. She sees it, the realization surely written all over my face.
“I’m not really into ballet, anyway. I usually only do the spring musical and summer show but they’re doing Mom a favor, I guess.”
I nod, catching her eye for a second but she cringes away.
“Don’t feel bad for me,” she says accusatorially.
“I don’t,” I laugh and I can tell she knows I mean it. “We aren’t so different.” I nudge her with my elbow but she rolls her eyes.
“Please.I heard the others talking. Don’t your parents ownlike that big grocery store or whatever?” Her eyes hold so much accusation and I get it because I’m sure mine did too when I was her age. The endless blame I put on those who had more than me. Those who could help the people who really needed it but only helped in ways that were beneficial to them.
“Nope, the people who adopted me do,” I wink, pushing to stand now that the footsteps of whoever was back here have long since disappeared. I dust myself off, extending her a hand. She’s wary but curious and takes it looking at me with a bit more recognition as if she’s starting to see some of herself in me too.
“Fine,” she says, shaking my hand in a truce that’s slightly undermined by her sly grin. “So tell me, is it really true that you got banned from that sleep away camp in Sweden?” An image of that gossip article fromyearsago is pulled from the recesses of my memory, and I cringe.
“Rule number one, little bird—do notGoogle me,” I say, chuckling as I poke at her nose.
“Carmen!” A strong, masculine voice interrupts us and the footsteps reappear.
“I swear she was in the auditorium thirty minutes ago, working on her homework just like always.” The employee who was back here earlier sounds closer now and I widen my eyes at the girl who I now realize is the Carmen they're looking for. She sighs, pulling back on the backpack.
“Back here,” her little voice rings out and for a second I wonder if I could actually get in trouble for this.
“Thank god. Where the hell were you?”
