“Little more,” I shout. “Little more. There!”
I turn my hands like I’m twirling invisible knobs: It’s not ASL, but it’s the universal sign for “lock down that light.” Denise is up in the catwalk focusing, while I stand onstage directing her.
We’re down to crunch time: Only two weeks until the show. The set is nearly done. The lights are mostly focused. Costumes are fitted and labeled. Next week we’ve got run-throughs every night, and thenHellTech Week starts on Saturday.
While Denise and I work on the lights, Paige supervises the final bits of set painting. We’ve got a crowd of Theatre I students volunteering, plus Liam—the only cast member to show up—and, to mychagrinsurprise, Jasmine.
They’ve been dating for six weeks now, whenever Liam’s got a free night from rehearsal and swimming. He and Bowie both placed at Regionals, which is awesome, but also stressful, because now they have to train for State.
While Denise scoots down the catwalk to the next light, Paigejogs over to me. She’s in paint-spattered overalls and these hot-pink Converse that have clearly seen a lot of love.
“Hey. Um.” She shifts from foot to foot. “About your sister...”
“Is she being a perfectionist?”
“Yeah. She’s kind of holding us up.”
“I’ll talk to her. Can you help Denise focus area three?”
Paige finds the spike mark downstage right while I head to the scene shop. Sure enough, Jasmine’s standing right in front of one of the Gethsemane flats, her nose only a few inches away as she paints in the individual thorns on the patches of radioactive plants.
Liam’s next to her, expertly scumbling the gray skies. All that swimming has given him the proper wrist dexterity to do it swiftly and accurately.
“Hey, Jackson.” He reaches for my tag with his free hand.
“Hey!” Jasmine steps back. “How’s it looking?”
Jasmine’s thorns are immaculate: sharp, evenly spaced, and she’s even done a little highlighting.
“They’re perfect,” I say, and she beams. “Too perfect.”
She cocks her head.
“Remember, the audience is going to be twenty, thirty feet away. Even more. So they won’t appreciate this level of detail. And we’ve still got a lot to paint.”
“But...” Jasmine clamps her mouth shut as she studies Liam, moving back and forth across the huge flat in broad sweeps. His paint-spattered white T-shirt keeps riding up, showing off a strip of creamy skin above the waistband of his underwear. I blink and look away before Jasmine notices.
“Point taken.”
“And Liam? Keep doing what you’re doing.”
He turns, gives me a quick smile, but keeps working.
“Aww, babe.” Jasmine tugs him down to kiss his cheek. “My boyfriend is so talented.”
Boyfriend.
It hits me like a Leko to the chest.
Boyfriend.
Liam blushes hard, like his cheeks have been painted too.
My mouth starts running on its own.
“You two are... like... official?”
“Well... uh.” Liam swallows.
