The Backstagers and the Theater of the Ancients (Backstagers #2)
Page 11
“I know we acted foolishly, but when we located the Designer’s Notebook, we wanted to make haste to get it,” Aleka explained. “And Tasia was the one who brought the God Mic to the backstage—”
“SILENCE,” the woman barked, her steely cool suddenly lost to a flash of rage.
“Sorry, Mom,” Aleka said.
The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath, regaining her calculated composure.
“You have been exceedingly irresponsible and have put the work of generations of people at risk. You will need to be punished. Quite severely, I’m afraid.”
The siblings dropped their heads and nodded solemnly.
“Still,” their mother continued, a change in her tone, “Niko is correct to point out that while the God Mic has been lost for now, we have learned the location of two other artifacts. And luckily, we still have the other artifacts in our arsenal. They have possession of three, but we have knowledge of five. Perhaps this temporary setback is a small price to pay for what we stand to gain. And maybe this St. Genesius School has other secrets that can be useful to us. You both ought to hope against hope that it does. Until we find out, though, you’ll need to leave St. Genesius and the legendary artifacts to the grown-ups . . .”
Kevin McQueen practically collapsed through the grand double front doors when he finally arrived home after an exhausting but fulfilling day.
After the run-through, Timothy and Jamie took the whole cast and crew out for pizza, and together, they all talked about what had gone so magically right with the show and had deep, passionate conversations about how to make it even better moving forward into tech week. It was the most time the actors had ever spent with the Backstagers, and each group had been fascinated to hear the other’s perspective on the show they were both trying to create.
“Hey Mom, hey Dad,” he said as he passed the parlor where his parents both sat staring into tablets with large glasses of wine at their sides. They didn’t look up from their reading but both raised their hands in greeting, which, at the McQueen household, was the equivalent of a hug and a kiss.
He ascended the main staircase and headed for his bedroom. A voice called out from the open door of the room next to his.
“What are you grinning like an idiot about?” Blake sat in front of his computer in his darkened bedroom, the light from the screen illuminating his sullen face.
“Oh, hey Blake,” Kevin said, stopping and leaning on the doorframe. He’d barely spoken to his twin since their fallout at the beginning of Tammy rehearsal and was eager for any contact. “Nothing special. We had our final run-through tonight, and I think it went pretty well. So . . . just proud, I guess.”
“Proud,” Blake chuckled. “You’re actually proud of a show like that? I don’t know what you did to my brother, but when you open his cage to feed him or whatever, tell him I miss him.” He turned back to the computer screen coldly.
“Okay, Blake,” Kevin sighed. “Have a good night.” He slumped off to bed.
Blake picked up his phone, opened the Lookbook app, and fired off a post. It was a quote from the musical Violinist on the Ceiling, a line the father says about the peril we face when we abandon our traditions. He put the phone down and sat back, satisfied with this tiny bit of revenge that he knew his brother would see and understand loud and clear.
After a moment, the phone chimed with a notification. Was it Kevin, sending a direct message apologizing for betraying and embarrassing him in front of the whole company? Would he come crawling back, saying Blake had been right all along and that the traditions of the theater were the most vitally important treasures imaginable? He picked up the phone.
No, the notification read that the post had been liked by some account called Thiasos. Blake clicked the profile—its default photo was a shot of ancient stone drama and comedy masks. It’s bio description read: “An organization dedicated to preserving the purity of the theater.”
And then a direct message popped into his in-box . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Endless gratitude to Maggie Lehrman, Andrew Smith, and everyone at Abrams and BOOM! Comics for this opportunity, and to James Tynion IV and Rian Sygh for these characters.
Special thanks to Ren and Joshua Castille for helping me craft Adrienne.
ANDY MIENTUS is an actor, singer, and songwriter who is best known for his roles in Spring Awakening, Wicked, Les Misérables, Smash, and The Flash. He lives in New York City.
RIAN SYGH is a comic artist and co creator of the award-winning Backstagers comics. He lives in Glendale, California.
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