Brianna held the final position. The tableau. With their arms spread and Dashiell’s special lighting, the sequins shot color around the theater like an explosion. It had all happened so fast, she wasn’t sure what she’d just experienced. Was it over? Could it possibly be over?
The silence after the last note was total. Dashiell cut the lights, and the entire theater was black. Like the world had been whisked away, leaving them all hovering in outer space.
And then, after what felt like a decade, the noise began.
She expected to hear clapping, but that wasn’t what came first. It was a roar, a wash of voices across the width and depth of the theater like the boom of an airplane breaking the sound barrier.
The lights came on again. Brianna relaxed her muscles, dropped her pose. She felt Harrison’s hands gripping hers. She reached out and took Jamil’s. The cast fanned out across the apron of the stage and stood there as the audience gave and gave, screaming, clapping, shouting the names of the cast members. Harrison nodded, and they all took a bow.
Then, one by one according to plan, they stepped forward for individual bows. “When do I go?” Br ianna asked Jamil, nearly shouting to be heard above the applause.
“You’re after me!” he replied, kissing her exuberantly on the cheek. “You were amazing!”
When her turn came, she stepped forward. She wasn’t prepared for what happened. The entire audience rose up as if on cue, crowding the airspace, yelling and whistling and hooting so loud she thought maybe Kyle had snuck out behind her and they were applauding him.
But he hadn’t. It was for her, and for the first time in front of a live audience, she cried.
They stayed on their feet for Harrison’s bow. His applause was huge, too, for a powerful performance—and when Kyle finally came to center stage, dramatically spinning his cape, an ear-piercing squeal went up from a huge group of girls in the back rows, and what must have been the entire football team chanted “WOO! WOO! WOO! WOO!”
Kyle bowed and tried to move back into line, but Harrison pushed him forward again.
He was a rock star.
Brianna shot a look toward Casey at backstage right, whose face was drenched in tears of joy. She had the urge to run back there, to drag her onstage, but found herself wrapped tightly in Harrison’s strong arms. “You were sensational,” he said.
“Vre Harrison,” Brianna replied. “So were you.”
He smiled. “We did it, sister. We pulled it off.”
They separated for one more group bow, with Kyle in the center, all holding hands to keep from floating into the wings.
“Who’s your daddy?” Dashiell shrieked, gyrating backstage with a headset dangling from his neck.
“WOOOO-HOOOO!” Casey bounced from hug to hug, screaming and crying and vowing love and loyalty forever and basically saying whatever came into her head because the show had worked, it had been nearly flawless, and she had earned the right to say whatever she wanted.
“Caseyyyyy . . . ” Brianna said, standing center stage behind the closed curtain with her arms wide and her face makeup dripping black rivulets down her cheeks. The two girls shared an embrace that shut out the world for a moment. “Thank you. Thank you so much for believing in me. Thank you for putting up with me. I’m so glad you pushed me, Casey.”
“You were perfect, Brianna. Not one mistake—”
“Three.”
“Okay, three. But no one noticed.”
“All right, girls, break it up, break it up!” Charles shouted, clapping his hands. “We have another performance tomorrow night, and we’re already losing sequins.”
“Chaaaaarles!” The two girls mauled him, wrapping him in hugs from either side.
“Aaaaghhh!” Charles screamed. “Help! I’m being mmphmphmrrrphlrg!”
The next few minutes passed in a blur of hugs and kisses, traveling from backstage to hallway, from ecstatic cast to ecstatic families and friends—and finally they were all in the dressing rooms, peeling off clothing with a recklessness for the material that nearly gave Charles a coronary, and then into their party clothes and makeup.
They all swept out of the school, traveling in a wave to Ivy’s, the upscale Chinese restaurant where the traditional cast parties for the big shows were held. Ivy, as always, had promised to set aside a section of the restaurant for food and dancing.
Twenty minutes later, the music was cranked up, and Brianna screamed at the top of her lungs, boogying as if she hadn’t just had the most difficult day of her life.
Casey bounced from person to person, giggling and laughing. Someone put a diamond tiara on her head, probably swiped from the costume room, and someone else gave her a pair of rhinestone glasses and a feather boa. She waved it around, wrapping other people together with her.
“Go, Casey!” Brianna screamed.
Reese, dancing her perfect jazz dance moves, sidled over and smiled. “Some of us are going to the beach. Wanna come?”
“Sure,” Brianna said. “Who are we going with?”
Reese shrugged. “I have my ride. I’m sure you’ll find one.”
She nodded toward the front door. There, Kyle was talking to a group of admirers. He was wearing a black leather jacket. His hair was swept back, and he looked about as sexy as was humanly possible.
Casey suddenly felt cold. She could sense Brianna stiffening.
Oh Lord, this wasn’t over, was it? It still was all about Kyle . . . .
“See you there, girls.” Reese yawned theatrically and began strutting across the throng of bodies toward Kyle.
At the other end of the restaurant, Kyle threw his head back, laughing. As Reese danced her way through the bodies, waving to get Kyle’s attention, he put his arm around a blond sophomore whose name Casey didn’t know. The girl rested her head on Kyle’s shoulder, and they both headed for the exit, their bodies leaning into each other, walking in lockstep.
Reese stopped in her tracks. Her shoulders drooped.
Casey looked at Brianna. “Unbelievable,” she murmured.
“Kyle!” Reese’s voice echoed over the crowd. “KYYYYYLLLLE!”
Brianna’s face broke first. Then Casey couldn’t help herself, an undignified “HAAAA!” escaping from her mouth as she leaned into Brianna, both of them convulsed and holding on to each other and crying with laughter, and Casey felt as if her rib cage were going to split open.
Wiping her eyes, Brianna continued to dance. She whirled around, threading in and out of Charles and Aisha, Dashiell and Becky, Jamil and Lynnette. And Casey.
Ivy had just opened the buffet, and a line was forming. But Brianna didn’t care. She couldn’t stop dancing. The night was young. The year was young. There would be plenty of time for food.
Plenty of time for everything.
Epilogue
WE SNUCK BACK IN TO THE SCHOOL AFTER the party, Brianna and I. Mr. Ippolito was still there, cleaning up with his crew. We headed straight for the Shrine. Arm in arm, we stood in front of the photos and looked at them a long time. It was the most amazing thing. They looked different. As if the people in them had changed. I saw everybody. Charles was in 1957, I forget the play. Dashiell showed up in Kiss Me, Kate from 1979, and Reese—well, for some reason she was there four different times.
Once again I was stumped looking for myself. Brianna kept suggesting things, but I rejected them. You have to know. You have to feel it in your gut. I thought maybe I would see myself in a character who had undergone some huge transformation. Annie Oakley or Molly Brown or Sarah Brown or Lady Macbeth or Ophelia or Juliet. But none of them felt right. Brianna was getting frustrated with me, so I gave up.
It was when I started walking away that the girl spotted me.
There she was, peeking out of a photo on the lower left. Not in any meaningful play at all. Just the chorus of a production of Brigadoon. She wasn’t Asian, either, just a plain white girl in a Scottish-looking outfit dancing a jig. The lead guys, returning to the real world, have crossed the bridge
, which means (in the plot) that they’re about to destroy the dreamland of Brigadoon.
The guys are in focus, but the chorus is blurry. I don’t remember noticing that the first time. I don’t know if that was done on purpose in the dark room or if it’s just a trick of perspective.
And then I saw that the girl in the center of the chorus was crystal clear. As I passed, her eyes went with me. Her expression was steady and secure, as if she knew she would stay there while everything around her was fading.
I don’t know why I thought she was me. Honestly, the image kind of shocked me. I didn’t tell Brianna. At first I figured she wouldn’t understand, or would disagree. Or maybe I’d even change my own mind. But after I went home that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I still can’t. And I still see her and say hi to her every day.
I haven’t told anyone yet. And she hasn’t faded a bit.
Peter Lerangis, The Fall Musical
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