“Liam. I told him I’d make him some if he got a role.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. Need help carrying them?”
“I’m good.” It’s a shmoodie, not a set piece.
Jasmine shrugs and waves at her best friend Ellie. I head forthe stairs, taking them two at a time, round the corner for the Theatre Hall—
And stop dead when my eyes land on the disaster that is the Theatre Board.
I don’t mean the giant cast list Dr. Lochley made, though that is a bit of a disaster. No. I mean the duct tape letters stretched across it.
LIAM COQUYT SHOULD CO-QUIT.
An angry fire burns behind my sternum.
First, duct tape? Really? It leaves a disgusting residue everywhere you stick it. Denise doesn’t allow it anywhere near the theatre; we only use gaff tape.
And second, it’s not even clever. Coquyt, co-quit. Not exactly Shakespearean wordplay.
Third: Liam absolutely does not deserve it. Theatre is supposed to be welcoming to everyone.
This has Cam written all over it. I knew he was upset on Friday, the way he was muttering to Philip, the look he gave me. Cam’s always been a jerk, but I didn’t think he’d do something like this.
Not that I could ever prove it.
I knock on Dr. Lochley’s office, but no one answers. Must be in a staff meeting or something, since she’s usually here long before first bell. But I can’t let anyone see this, least of all Liam. I told Bowie I’d look out for him, and I meant it.
I set the shmoodies on the floor with my backpack, snap some photos for evidence, then get to work.
I pull down the destroyed cast list, along with half the flyers beneath where the duct tape stuck; thankfully the corkboarditself seems fine. When it’s down and wadded up, I’ve got a decent-sized paper-and-tape wad, about the size of a misshapen volleyball. I tuck it under my arm—I’ve got to find a big enough trash can to dispose of it—and head to the computer lab.
***
By the time I return, Dr. L is back, facing the empty board with her fists on her hips and her legs akimbo, like she’s ready to remake the world. She wears her scarf like armor.
“Jackson! Did you clean the board off?”
“Yeah. Here.”
I hand her one end of the fresh cast list, and she helps me pin it up.
“What brought this on?”
I show her the pictures.
“Who would do something like this?” She pulls her glasses off and zooms in the photo.
“Someone who wanted Liam’s part, probably.” Like Cameron. “Or who was mad at him for not paying his dues.” Again: Cameron.
“Emotions always run high around casting,” Dr. Lochley says sagely. “You know, when I was in college we did Eve Ensler’sThe Vagina Monologues, and the first day of rehearsals, someone left a bunch of tampons in the studio.”
I blink and fight the urge to check my hearing aids.
“They were used too. It was a whole mess. We had to shut down rehearsals so a cleaning company could come in. Blood’s a biohazard.”
Dr. Lochley’s college days were super weird.
“Anyway. Maybe you should talk to the actors? Aboutwelcoming in new...” I was going to sayblood,but not now. “New talent to the department?”
