Laken’s a first-year girl who started showing up to our work days. She’s heavyset, with clear-framed glasses and the kind of face that’s super friendly when she’s smiling and super judgey if she raises an eyebrow. She said she wanted to learn about sound and lights, but it looks like she got a huge promotion. I scan the catwalk, but I can’t spot her; she’s even shorter than me, and no one can see me in the catwalk unless I stand at the rail and lean out.
The house slowly fills with students and teachers and parents. Braden snags a seat house left, but not before giving me and Bowie a big wave that nearly knocks over his neighbor.
I wave back, trying not to laugh.
“I’m gonna run to the water fountain,” I say with a little over five minutes to curtain. My DQ has left me all thirsty. “Be right back.”
I leave my jacket on my seat and weave through the incoming audience. There’s a small crowd still milling about, flipping through programs, chatting with each other or playing with their phones, even as the house crew tries to corral them inside.
I drink my fill, wipe off my mouth, turn—and am immediately knocked off my feet by someone slamming into my shoulder. Cam rushes past, without even pausing to apologize. His costume, a big plum-colored dress, is only half-done, and his wig is a mess.
He runs right into the bathroom while I pick myself up and readjust my hearing aids.
Philip’s not far behind. He’s in the hunter-green waistcoat andpuffy shorts of Sir Toby; he’s got wrinkles drawn onto his forehead and a big bushy mustache spirit-gummed to his upper lip.
Philip looks like he wants to run into the bathroom after Cam, but before he can, Denise strides up in show blacks, a walkie talkie at her waist and a headset around her neck.
“What’s going on?” she asks, then notices me. “Oh. Hey, Jackson.”
“Hey.”
“What happened to Cameron?” She pulls Philip aside so he’s not blocking the bathroom. Some of the audience is staring at him; actors are supposed to stay backstage once they’re in costume, backstage being the hall outside Dr. L’s office, with black drapes to block it from view. Otherwise it breaks the illusion.
“Somethingsomething fine after dinner, then he got dressed and all of a sudden...”
“You had Big Burger,” I say. I hadn’t thought twice about it when I saw them, I was too distracted, but—
“Yeah, he’d never been.”
“Big Burger has onions in their patties.”
Philip’s eyes go so wide the white powder on his eyebrows starts flaking off.
“Cam’s allergic to onions,” I tell Denise.
“Do we need to call an ambulance?” she asks. “Maybe something-something EpiPen.”
“It doesn’t kill him,” I say.
“It makes him sick,” Philip adds.
I meet Denise’s eyes and mouthCode Brown.
Denise groans and grasps her forehead, massaging her temple with her thumb. “Great. Just great. Curtain’s in five. Will he be all right by then?”
Philip shakes his head, sending the ends of his mustache flopping. “It could be hours.”
“Poor guy.” Denise stares at the bathroom for a moment, then turns to me. “Well, better go take your seat, Jackson. Not sure what we’ll...”
She stops mid-sentence.
I know people talk about light bulbs going off, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person, until now.
“Jackson.”
“Yeah?”
“You still remember all the blocking?”
