by Robin Talley
When I stop talking, Dom’s staring at me as though I’ve been speaking another language. But Odile’s lips are slightly parted, and her eyes are wide. “Wow. I always knew that song bothered me, but I didn’t know why until now.”
“I think this may be the first time in history anyone’s ever had a serious conversation about the subtext of the lyrics in Legally Blonde: The Musical,” Dom says, but neither of us laughs.
“Maybe I should just be glad there’s a musical that even has a gay character.” In the distance, another table of jocks is heading our way, so I try to talk faster. “Maybe it doesn’t really count if he’s only in it for a joke, but Les Mis doesn’t have gay people at all. Unless you count fanfiction about Grantaire.”
Odile laughs and pulls a baby carrot out of her bag. “Yeah. It’s too bad Les Mis doesn’t have more women. Well, it’s too bad for a lot of reasons, but it’s also unfortunate that it’s so hard to come up with believable girl/girl fanfic.”
Well, that’s an interesting thing for her to say.
“For real.” I nod emphatically. “I guess you could do Éponine/Cosette, but with the power imbalance it’s just—”
“Brownie time!” a very tall, very wide football player shouts as he strides toward the table, holding out a twenty-dollar bill. “Hand ’em over!”
“Of course.” Odile smiles up at him. It’s her sunny smile, the one she used with the actors who came up to fawn over her at auditions. Nothing like the soft, subtle smile she wears when we’re talking for real. “How many would you and your friends like? If you buy five, you get a free snickerdoodle.”
The football player melts under Odile’s gaze. I can relate. “A free snickerdoodle? Wow.”
I busy myself with the cash box as Dom reaches for the brownie platter, the three of us sliding back into our rhythm. When the football players finally move away, Dom pulls out what’s left of the jelly beans and slides them across the table, passing five to me and five to Odile. “Okay, until someone else comes over we’re playing jelly bean ‘Never Have I Ever.’”
I groan. “We can’t play that game in the cafeteria. It always winds up being about sex.”
Dom raises his eyebrows, and that’s when I realize I just said the word sex with Odile right here.
“We’ll keep it strictly PG.” Dom’s lip quirks up. I can see him resisting the urge to make fun of me again, and I try to show I’m grateful with a quick appreciative head-bob. “Well, maybe PG-13. Odile, do you want to start?”
She frowns as she carefully lines up her jelly beans. “I don’t think I know how to play this game.”
“It’s easy.” Dom holds up a jelly bean to demonstrate. “You have to eat one if someone says something you’ve done. At the end, whoever still has jelly beans left wins. I’ll start. Let’s see . . . never have I ever had a surprise party.”
“Ugh.” I reach for a jelly bean. “My dads gave me one for my thirteenth. It was the worst. I hate surprises.”
“Of course you do. You hate anything you can’t be in charge of.” Dom laughs.
“I love surprises.” Odile reaches for a jelly bean too.
“You’ve had a surprise party?” Dom asks her.
“What? Oh, no.” She drops the jelly bean. “Sorry, I’m already losing at this game! Mel, you go next so I can get the idea.”
I laugh. “Never have I ever, um . . . been late to rehearsal.”
“Borrr-ing.” Dom pops a jelly bean, but Odile keeps her hands in her lap. “Come on, you’ve never been late to a single rehearsal in your life?”
She shrugs apologetically. “On my first show, the director taught us that early is on time, on time is late . . .”
“And late is unacceptable,” I finish for her, grinning. “The first rule of theater.”
“Okay, I’ve got one.” Odile raises her hand. A group is coming toward us from one of the actor tables in the middle of the room. Malik and Leah are in front, but they’re moving slowly. “Never have I ever sung along to a really embarrassing cast recording in the car with the windows down, and had a cop pull up and stare at me judgmentally.”
I’m already laughing at that image, but Dom holds out a jelly bean. “Okay, two things. One, that is so specific there’s no way you would’ve said it if you haven’t actually done that yourself, which is against the rules. Which means you need to eat a jelly bean even though it’s your turn.”
“Shoot!” Odile laughs and pops a jelly bean in her mouth. “Can we say this round doesn’t count since I’ve been so incompetent the whole time?”
“Fair.” Dom passes out an extra jelly bean to each of us. “And two, which really embarrassing cast recording?”
But I’m positive I already know. “It’s The Sound of Music, right?”
“Yes!” Odile grins and swallows her jelly bean. “I was at a traffic light and didn’t notice he’d pulled up. I was singing Rolf’s part in ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’—it’s one of my favorites—and I glanced out the window and he was looking right at me. I’d just gotten my license and I was frantically trying to remember if I’d broken any laws, but when I turned around he was laughing. He waved at me and drove off when the light changed.”
I slap the table as I laugh, making my jelly beans jump. “I don’t know what I love most about that story. That you thought you were going to get arrested for belting a cheesy sexist show tune, or that Rolf’s lines are your favorites.”
“Like you’ve never done something like that.” Dom tosses a jelly bean in his mouth as the table’s worth of actors reaches us. “You probably sing ‘Climb Ev’ry Mountain’ in your sleep. Anyway, remember, it’s my turn after this. Hey, Leah, what can I get you?”
But Leah’s looking at Odile, smiling the same simpering smile she did when she came up to her during auditions. “Hi, Odile! I’m so excited we’re going to be doing this show together.”
Odile smiles back. Her sunny smile again. “Hi, Leah! I’m excited too! We get to sing together in the epilogue. It’s going to be so much fun.”
Even her voice is different now. The casual warmth that was there when she was talking to Dom and me has been replaced by a cool, smooth, even tone. Generic ingenue.
“You know, has anyone ever told you, you should really start a YouTube channel?” Leah asks. “For your singing, I mean. My dad still has the video he made of Joseph if you want to use it. You were incredible on ‘Pharaoh Story.’”
Odile’s smile never fades, but I can see her fingers tensing up around her jelly bean. “That’s so sweet of you to offer. Thank you. If I need it, I’ll text you for sure.”
Leah beams and buys a snickerdoodle. The others buy stuff too, forking over money that we’re going to turn around and use to buy costume pieces for them to wear. It might not be a very efficient system, but at least everyone gets sugar out of the deal.
Malik lingers at the table after the others have gone back, biting into one of Odile’s snickerdoodles. “Oh my God,” he moans. “This is the best cookie I’ve ever tasted.”
“See, Mel?” Odile sounds like herself again now that Leah’s not fawning over her anymore. “Life-changing snickerdoodles! And you doubted me.”
“I never said that!” I blush. I didn’t say it out loud. Can Odile read minds?
“Crap,” Dom mutters next to me. “Whatever you do, Mel, don’t look to your right.”
I freeze. “Stage right or audience right?”
“Stage—no, wait, I mean—”
But I’ve already seen her. Rachel’s hovering by the door, looking hesitantly in our direction, as though she’s debating whether to approach us.
“Uh-oh.” I slink down in my seat, wondering if I could somehow crawl all the way under the table. “Is she coming over?”
“Looks like she thought better of it.” Malik’s very obviously trying not to laugh. He, like Dom, appears immune to the disease of Acting Weird in the Presence of Odile Rose. “You can emerge from your self-imposed exile.”
“Yeah, she’s leaving.” Dom pats my shoulder. “You’re safe, Mel.”
“Safe from what, exactly?” Odile asks, her eyebrows raised.
“Mel’s allergic to her exes,” Malik explains around a mouthful of snickerdoodle. “Hey, are you playing jelly bean ‘Never Have I Ever’?”
“Not true!” I can’t just let that stand. “I’m not allergic to all my exes.”
“Well, clearly not all of them.” Malik smirks and reaches for a jelly bean. “Hey, I’ve got one. Never have I ever hooked up with anyone within a ten-foot radius.”
I groan and shut my eyes. Malik’s one of the few actors who don’t usually make me want to tear my hair out, but in this particular moment, I could kill him.
When I open my eyes again, Dom is laughing, popping a jelly bean in his mouth. I don’t turn to look, but I can feel Odile watching as I do the same thing while Malik goes on smirking.
She doesn’t say anything. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
I guess it doesn’t really matter. It isn’t a secret that Dom and I went out a million years ago, and there’s no reason she’d care anyway. Besides, she’s probably already back with David.
But I don’t turn to meet her eyes. And a few minutes later, when the lunch bell rings and we start packing up the leftovers, I still can’t bring myself to look.
There’s something about Odile that makes me feel strange. Like I’m not myself. Like I’m out of control, and I really, really, really don’t like feeling out of control.
But I have a strong suspicion this whole situation is only going to get worse.
From: Melody McIntyre
To: All directors and crew heads
Date: Thursday, 2/13, 10:20 p.m.
Subject: Notes from Production Meeting #1
Date: Thursday, 2/13
Start: 3:05 p.m.—End: 4:12 p.m.
In attendance: Fatima, Kevin, Jasmin, Shannon, Rachel, Estaban, Tyler, and Mel
Important dates coming up:
First rehearsal: Friday, 2/14
Crew party (brainstorm design elements): Saturday, 2/15, Mel’s house
Set updates:
Fatima and Mr. Green ruled that we can repurpose the ship railing from Little Mermaid for Javert’s suicide bridge, so that’s one less thing we have to build (score!).
We’ll definitely use the trapdoor for Valjean and Marius’s escape into the sewers and Javert’s suicide. We might also use it for the Thénardiers during “One Day More”—Ms. Marcus wants to test it in a blocking rehearsal first.
Props updates:
The team is modifying leftover swords from Shrek to look more nineteenth-century.
Estaban and Jacob went on an IKEA trip and came back with many, many candlesticks, plus cups, plates, silverware, etc. There were no silver candlesticks so the team is currently experimenting with wrapping a gold set in foil vs. spray-painting a glass set silver. They got LED lights for the scenes that require candles to actually be lit. (Reminder: actual fire of any kind is STRICTLY PROHIBITED in the performing arts wing, for obvious reasons.)
Lighting updates:
We’ll use two follow spots.
Jasmin is working with Mr. Green on window gobos for the sewer scene, “Master of the House,” “On My Own,” and maybe “A Heart Full of Love.”
Costume updates:
Rachel, Devin, and Ronee have the first of many planned trips to Goodwill scheduled for Saturday to scour for peasant dresses, military jackets, and accessories.
We need to ask all cast, crew, and parents if they have vests they can donate. We’ll alter them beyond recognition into nineteenth-century student attire, so no one should donate a vest they hope to get back in one piece.
Hair/makeup updates:
Shannon is experimenting with blood options and is currently leaning toward a mixture of chocolate syrup and strawberry syrup (needs to be edible in case it accidentally drips into the actors’ mouths).
We may need to use an alternative blood mixture for the barricade scenes, because it’s unclear if syrup will run fast enough down Enjolras’s face when he’s dead and upside down, plus Éponine may also wind up needing to actively bleed. The team is looking into this too.
We need to know if Nick plans to shave his chest for fake tattoo purposes. Han drew the short straw so she’ll ask him and report back.
Shannon is checking on whether we should black out any of the Thénardiers’ teeth. Beth and Julio eagerly voted yes but fortunately it’s not their call.
Sound updates:
The professional sound mixer is booked! Rukmini Raman will be here from tech through closing. Thanks for the hookup, Mr. Green.
We have twelve working mic packs on a good day, so we need to plan how we’ll do handoffs among principals and other soloists. Kevin’s working on it.
Publicity updates:
Official show T-shirts should be in by the beginning of April for all cast, crew, and musicians. Aya is harassing people to get their sizes.
Tyler is offering a prize of a customized Bitmoji to anyone who submits their program bio to him by the end of February. Tyler has excellent Bitmoji game so please spread the word.
Thank you, everyone! —Mel
—Also stored on BHS performing arts department shared drive.
Created by: Melody McIntyre, stage manager, class of 2021
Viewable to: All crew and directors
Editable by: Current SM ONLY
Scene 5—Beaconville High School Choir Room
DAYS UNTIL SPRING MUSICAL OPENS: 76
Valentine’s Day.
What a stupid, pointless, utterly banal holiday.
“No flowers in the choir room.” I point at the huge bouquet of roses Christina is cradling in her arms as though it’s a human child. “Leave them in the hall with your coat.”
“But—”
“Ms. Marcus’s orders.” Gabby cuts her off neatly. “And you’ve got to pay tribute to the memorial plaque in the lobby before you come in. We’re using the jelly beans left over from the bake sale, so take one from the bag and set it on the shelf under the plaque.”
Christina rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, grabbing a jelly bean and flouncing away to carefully deposit her unnecessarily gigantic display of the crass commercial approximation of romance in the hall.
Not that I’m bitter or anything.
Ms. Marcus likes to schedule first rehearsals the Friday after casting. It gives everyone time to get in their permission forms and study the script before we all come together. And this year, that Friday happens to fall on Valentine’s Day.
It’s actually kind of convenient. This way, I’m so busy I barely have time to think about the fact that I’m single and flower-less.
Two of the new costume team members trot in after Christina, fortunately sans flowers, and I show them where to stash their phones. Once rehearsals start, Ms. Marcus has a strict no-phones-backstage-or-onstage-or-really-anywhere-remotely-near-the-stage-or-even-in-the-choir-room policy, so Gabby and I hung a bunch of over-the-door shoe organizers by the entrance. We always have the first rehearsal in the choir room so we can read through the script and focus purely on the text before everyone starts obsessing over blocking.
A delighted buzz slowly fills the room as more and more people arrive. Soon there’s a thick cluster of actors talking and laughing in the middle set of risers. The crew’s gathered in smaller groups around the periphery of the room, but they’re no less buzzy.
The first rehearsal is the last time the cast and crew will mingle. Up until tech, anyway, but it’s best not to think about tech until you don’t have a choice in the matter.
In my opinion, the first rehearsal is also the most fun part of a run, when everyone’s still happy-anticipatory. By final dress we’ll all be stressed and overwhelmed, the cast prone to anxious bouts of tears and the crew sloppy from sleep deprivation. We’ve got to relish this new-show energy while we can.
“Mel!” Speaking of energy, Dom bounds th
rough the door and wraps me in a hug, even though I literally just saw him in precalc. “It’s the first rehearsal! Are you so excited? I’m so excited!”
“I’m excited, for sure.” I laugh.
“I’m excited!” Gabby pipes in. Dom releases me and turns to hug her, too. She giggles, her light brown cheeks flushing.
“Did you pay tribute to the plaque?” I ask him.
“I did.” He holds up his copy of the script, which I’m pleased to see he’s already scribbled notes all over. “Also, I took your advice and watched more videos last night. I’ve decided that what my character may lack in quantity, he makes up in quality.”
“Heck yeah.” Gabby grins. “And did you see what your vest looks like?”
“Just you wait.” Dom takes off his jacket. Beneath it he’s taped strips of red and yellow construction paper to his Boston College sweatshirt. It’s a decidedly amateurish but still recognizable imitation of the vest Enjolras wears in the second act.
Gabby and I both crack up. I don’t even mind that Dom’s being a total actor right now.
“You win the prize,” I tell him. “No one else has come in costume. Well, unless you count Lauren’s newsie hat, but I’m pretty sure she wears that every day.”
“Go me!” Dom pumps his fist and steps aside to let Ms. Qiao pass him. Even she’s smiling today. “So, the only thing about this Enjolras guy—and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, because he gets to do a lot once he finally shows up—but, well, he seems kind of, ah, one-note? Like, I didn’t see a ton of, you know, complexity?”
I’m about to offer to loan him the novel with all the Enjolras scenes marked in Post-its when Gabby fakes a gasp and clutches at her heart, tossing her loose black curls behind her.
“How dare you!” she cries. “Enjolras is not one-note. He’s passionate! He’s a revolutionary! He’s fighting for justice!”
