by Andy Mientus
“Jory still has the notebook, right?” Reo asked. “Maybe we could ask him to do the sketches from Greece?”
“That would require him to return an email,” Hunter said grimly. All of the Backstagers looked to him, surprised. None of them had been in touch with Jory since he’d left town, but they’d all assumed that he would at least keep up contact with his boyfriend.
“You . . . haven’t heard from him?” Aziz asked.
“Not in days. I’ve messaged like a dozen times,” Hunter said, his face growing hot with emotion.
“Maybe it’s the Wi-Fi in Greece?” Reo offered.
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s, like, out in the middle of nowhere. You know his mom isn’t letting him use data roaming,” Beckett said with a nervous chuckle. Hunter tried to laugh with him.
“Yeah . . . can’t imagine her getting that bill,” he said.
“That’s gotta be it,” Sasha assured him. “It isn’t like Jory to just disappear like that.”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve all noticed, but Jory hasn’t exactly been himself lately,” Hunter said. “I tried talking to him about it but he got super defensive every time and shut down.”
“It’s funny you should say ‘shut down,’” Reo said. “A couple weeks ago we were in the backstage and something . . . happened to him. And at the time, I was thinking he just totally . . . shut down.”
“What was it?” Hunter asked.
“We were doing some work and he was sketching in the notebook and broke his pencil. It was seriously no big deal, because we were in the Prop Room, where we could definitely get another one, but he just . . . spiraled. He went into this really dark place and I couldn’t get him to shake it. He couldn’t do anything, he could hardly move. I got another pencil and then everything was fine, but it was really scary.”
“Any idea what caused it?” Aziz asked. “Surely it wasn’t just a broken pencil.”
“Well, he said there was this voice in his head. Clear and loud, like it was speaking directly into his ear.”
Hunter nodded solemnly. “I’ll check in one more time,” he said.
“Okay,” Beckett said. “In the meantime, I guess all we can do is push forward. I’ll finish staging the show tomorrow . . . somehow. And Saturday we’ll all just really focus on getting what we can built. It’ll be tough, but I believe in you all.” He looked around the room and though the guys were stressed out and exhausted, they managed confident nods and smiles.
“We believe in you, too, Beck,” Hunter said. “Get some rest, team. We’re gonna need it.”
They all lumbered, zombie-like, up the stairs to the auditorium level, toward their rides home, and finally, their beds.
As Sasha gathered up his things, though, he paused. Jory had heard a voice directly in his ear. Sasha thought of the mysterious creature who’d spoken to him in the backstage.
He knew what he had to do.
CHAPTER 11
Dear Jory,
Hey you. I’m sure you’re super busy with the summit and seeing Greece—so exciting! I’m so proud of you and I cannot WAIT to hear all about it and see your pictures. Maybe I should get an Instasnap account to see the ones you’ve already posted lol. Anyway, I’ve tried reaching you a couple times but I have no idea how the internet is all the way over there, so I thought I’d try you again. Sorry if I’m totally clogging your in-box. We’re up against it here and I know Beck said not to bother about trying to do sketches remotely, but I think he’s regretting that and I’m writing to see if you might have a few spare minutes while you’re traveling or something to come up with some costumes so we can pick them up in the backstage. I know it’s a lot to ask, I’m just not sure how we’re gonna get everything done in time for tech :-/
I also wanted to write because I wasn’t sure how we’d left things. You like me still? I know you’ve been saying you are just busy and rethinking the Backstager thing and I get that, but I can’t shake this feeling that there is something else going on. We haven’t known each other all that long, but there has been something in your eyes the last few weeks that isn’t like I remember. That little Jory sparkle is gone and I miss it so much.
Then there’s something Reo said about a time you were working together in the backstage and you heard a voice in your head and got really sad all of a sudden. That really hit home for me because I feel like I’ve heard that voice, too. You didn’t know me then, but when I was a freshman, I went through a pretty bad time. I felt like I couldn’t pick out a single thing I liked about myself. I hated my voice, I hated my skin, I hated my body. Like, every time I got dressed in the morning, this little voice would tell me how wrong it all was, and it made it hard to even get out of bed. It took a long time, but after my parents noticed how I was acting, they suggested I talk to someone about it, which sounded totally horrifying at the time, but turned out to be just what I needed. My therapist taught me that a lot of what I was feeling was just weird chemical stuff, part of having a changing body, and that there was a good little voice in there, too, and I just needed some strategies to learn how to hear that voice instead of the bad one.
I realized that even though you are my boyfriend, I never talked to you about that time, because I guess in some way I’m still kind of embarrassed about it, but that’s stupid. We don’t get embarrassed when we have a stomach bug or when we break a bone or something like that. Why should something going wrong in our heads be different?
I guess all this is to say that no matter what is going on with you, I do like you still. I like you a whole lot, no matter what, and I wanna be the person you can talk to about anything that is taking your Jory sparkle away. And even if this new path leads you away from the backstage and away from me, I want to always be that person for you and I will never think you are weak or dramatic or less-than for not being happy 100% of the time. Sometimes it’s hard to just be a teenager. Especially when you’re one that has to fight ghosts and stuff. We have enough stress without having to save the world every couple of months lol.
I’m probably being presumptuous and if so, I’m sorry. But even if you’re totally fine, I’m glad you know about my story now, because the more I share about myself with you, the louder my happy voice gets. I hope you feel the same.
Wow, this was long. Anyway, let me know about those sketches. I miss you a lot and I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures.
xo, Hunter
Jory closed his laptop, put his face in his hands, and cried. He cried because Hunter had said exactly what he’d needed to hear, without knowing he needed to hear it. He cried because he couldn’t believe Hunter was still so good to him after how he’d treated him and all of their friends. Most of all, he cried because he wished he could go back in time and meet that younger, sadder Hunter and hug him until his bad voice was totally silent. He suddenly missed him terribly and felt homesick and regretful for ever coming here. A knock at his bedroom door snapped him back into reality.
“One minute!” Jory called, wiping his tears away.
“Hey, I know it’s early, but I’m making breakfast!” Niko said. “What do Americans eat for breakfast?! I have no idea!”
“Oh um, I’m cool with whatever you’re having.”
“Great, okay, Aleka and I will be downstairs. Coffee is brewing. We have a big day!”
Jory shook the tension out of his shoulders, took a deep breath, and stood to look in the mirror, hoping that no sign of his sadness would ruin any of the day’s photos.
After breakfast, Jory, Niko, and Aleka loaded up the convertible with their weekend luggage. Niko was glowing in a white linen shirt that accentuated his perfect tan. Aleka was reliably chic in a minimalist black boxy romper, her long hair tied to the side in a single braid. Jory was in his Backstager cargo shorts and bulky backpack, which he immediately regretted upon seeing the stylish siblings.
“You all right, Jory?” Niko asked as they piled into the car. “You’ve been so quiet this morning!”
�
��Yeah, sorry. Just a bit homesick, I guess.”
“Oh. Are you not having a good time?”
“No, no, I’m having an amazing time. You guys have been incredible. I’ll snap out of it soon.”
“That’s good, because we have a long drive ahead! Today we head to the summit!”
“I thought it was here in Athens,” Jory said, confused. “All of your messages said the summit was in Athens.”
“Did they? My mistake. I wanted to show you Athens before we head to Thiasos headquarters for the main event. We’re going all the way up the Aegean coast. It’s one of the most ancient and most beautiful parts of the country. You will love it!”
“Oh . . . cool. How long is the drive?” Jory asked.
“Almost eight hours,” Aleka said as she turned the key in the ignition and donned her dark sunglasses.
“With some stops, of course!” Niko said. “It will fly by. You are seeing the real Greece! I hope your phone is charged; you will get enough beautiful photos to last a lifetime!”
They drove for hours along sunny highways, taking scenic detours to pass though smaller towns and see some points of interest. It was, indeed, beautiful, and though Jory thought often of how and when to reply to Hunter, he felt himself relax and enjoy the ride more and more. During one long stretch of highway driving after a lovely lunch in a coastal fishing village, Jory opened his backpack, took out the notebook, and began to sketch some Tammy costumes at last. He thought about how Tammy must feel like a stranger in her world. Maybe this could be clear in the design, like if the ensemble looks were uniform while Tammy’s was unique. He drew a few lines of a 1960s flared jean for her. Niko spotted him working.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Oh, I just thought I’d do some work on some theater designs. I’m designing costumes for a musical back home.”
“Oh. What’s the musical?”
“A show called Tammy. It’s so cool, it’s this rock opera about a Deaf girl who becomes famous playing Skee-Ball. I know it sounds weird, but it’s amazing. We have an actress who’s actually Deaf playing the title role for the first time.”
“How does that work?” Aleka asked, breaking her silence.
“Oh, well, there are lots of great tricks our director has come up with. Adrienne shares the role with a hearing actress who is sort of like her inner self, personified? And we use a lot of little hidden cues and things to make sure she knows where we are in the music and stays on tempo and stuff.”
“Don’t you think it sounds a little far off from what theater was intended to be?” Aleka asked. “Rock music, Skee-Ball, Deaf actresses sharing roles. I don’t understand that. Shouldn’t they have just found an actress who could sing so they wouldn’t have to share?”
“Well . . . traditionally it is cast like that, but we wanted to do something more authentic. Hearing people play all of the other parts. It felt like the right thing to do.”
“I guess I’m just traditional, then. I think of theater as a place to see the very best performers, not people who can only play half of a role.”
“Aleka,” Niko scolded quietly. “It’s her English, Jory, forgive her, she doesn’t mean to sound so . . . old-fashioned.”
“Yes . . .” Aleka said. “My apologies.”
They drove for a bit in a weird silence. The exchange had made Jory really uncomfortable and as the sun started to sink in the sky, he was suddenly aware that he had absolutely no idea where they were or where they were going.
“Are we almost there?” he asked.
“It won’t be long now,” Niko said. “It will be worth it!”
“We have a wonderful surprise for you,” Aleka said with a smile.
CHAPTER 12
A flashlight.
A prop sword.
Some rope.
A snack, just in case.
Sasha gathered what he thought he would need to confront the being that spoke to him in the backstage. He thought about alerting the others and bringing them, too, but with so much to get done on this, the last day of Tammy rehearsal before the run-through on Monday, he didn’t want to interrupt them until he was sure. Also, it was strange, but somehow he felt deep down that this was his fight and his alone. After everything that had happened this year at Genesius, he’d gotten used to being the one to get the Backstagers into trouble. Now it was his mission to get them out of it.
He slipped through the Unsafe door and made his way to the caverns of the Tool Room. Once he was inside, a few pairs of bright orange eyes blinked open in the dark crevices of the cave walls, but seeing that he came bearing no cheese puffs, they shut sleepily once more. Sasha retraced his steps to the spot where he’d first encountered the being and drew his wooden prop sword.
“Okay, I know you’re in here!” he called out into the cave, his voice echoing through the shadows. “I’m talking to YOU, floaty, glowy, whispery light-thing! I have some QUESTIONS, so show yourself! Now!”
His last words echoed for a few moments but nothing stirred in the darkness. Sasha hung his head, disappointed. Then he felt warmth fill the damp old cave and opened his eyes to see white light spilling across the floor. He raised the sword again, shielding his eyes from the intense glow and his body from whatever harm was about to befall him. The very air of the cavern sheared open as the being of light appeared, smiling gently.
“Sashaaaaaa,” it cooed. “You’ve returned. I am at your service.”
“Don’t . . . try to trick me. Your voice is nice and all, but I’m on to you. You’ve been bothering my friend Jory and I wanna know WHY and I want you to STOP!” Most of the time, Sasha’s big blue eyes seemed permanently set to puppy-dog mode, but when his friends were in danger, he went full attack-dog. He glared at the being, unafraid.
“I don’t know what you mean,” the being said.
“Don’t play dumb! My friend Jory! You’ve been using that voice of yours to put bad thoughts in his head! It ends today.”
“But Sasha, I can appear to and communicate with you alone. I couldn’t speak to your friend if I wanted to.”
“Why should I believe you? I don’t even know who you are.”
“Of course, how thoughtless of me. We are beings known by many names by many peoples. In your ancestry, we would be called muses. I myself am known as Genius. I am your guide, the protector of your art and the font of your creativity. You are one of a very few who can draw inspiration directly from the power at the heart of the backstage and thus, I am bound to you for life. As I said before, I am at your service.”
Sasha lowered his sword slightly. A muse? Bound to him because he was “one of a very few”? He wanted to believe it but he couldn’t.
“Prove it,” he said.
“Your idea for the special cue light system for the piece you are developing. When you showed it to your director he called it . . .”
“Genius,” Sasha said softly.
“I was the messenger of that idea, delivering the knowledge directly from the source of all theater magic.”
“Oh,” Sasha said, disappointed. “I thought I came up with that.”
“You did,” Genius said. “I merely deliver inspiration to you from the source and you interpret and manifest that raw power into reality. I suppose it’s complicated.” Genius smiled at Sasha. Their smile gave him the kind of feeling you get when Thanksgiving dinner is finished but no one is worried about the dishes yet: total peace.
“You . . . you could have overheard all that somehow,” Sasha said. “You can’t trick me.”
“Well, I guess you’re right. But luckily, I come with a gift. Hopefully this will convince you that I mean no harm.”
Genius raised their arms and sent forth their light in an expanding orb that lit up the cavern like a newborn star, blazing forth into the universe. It shone so brilliantly, Sasha had to cover his eyes. He felt the glow soften and when he blinked his eyes open again, an object hovered in the air before him.
For all the grandeur of i
ts appearance, the object was quite ordinary. It was a simple wooden box, stained to a rich dark color with a few scratches and dings. On the top of the box, there was a single metal slider, very much like the hundreds of sliders that controlled the St. Genesius light board.
“The Master Switch,” Genius explained, “is one of the legendary artifacts of the backstage, and it is your birthright, Sasha. I have been waiting to give it to you since you were just a baby. It was I who guided you to a life as a Backstager so that we could meet at this very moment. Now you are ready. Take it.”
The Master Switch gleamed beautifully. Sasha’s eyes widened as he reached for it tentatively. He still had reason to be cautious, but something deep within him told him it was all right. When he took the box from the air, its glow faded and at once it was an object like any other.
“What does it do?” Sasha asked.
“In the backstage,” Genius explained, “when you slide the switch up, it will create any light that you can dream of or any light that you require just by thinking it. When you slide it down, it will plunge any space in the backstage into total darkness. You can use it to experiment with what lighting design you’ll want to create back in the mundane world, but I suspect you will find other uses for it in time. Go ahead, try it.”
Sasha slid the switch down and all of the lanterns in the cavern faded down with it, until the entire space was pitch-black, save for the aura glowing where Genius hovered in the air, smiling proudly. He thought for a moment, then slid the switch back up and the cavern was flooded in beautiful candy-colored watercolor sparkles, like a romantic scene in an anime.
“So . . . pretty . . .” he said as the sparkles danced around him. He slid the switch back to its original position and the cavern returned to normal. A few tool mice poked their furry purple noses out of their crevices, confused by the light show.
