by Andy Mientus
Bailey chuckled and said, “Okay, take care of your crew, Beck. I’ll text you tomorrow. I had a really nice time.”
“Me too!” Beckett said. “Really, like the best time ever. I’m really sorry.”
“It happens,” Bailey said. They stood there awkwardly a moment.
“. . . Well, bye,” Beckett said, finally.
“Night,” Bailey said as she and Adrienne headed for their ride.
Beckett watched her go. He couldn’t believe that only a half hour ago they were on the dance floor, on top of the world, and now he was here, feeling about as high as a sea slug on the bottom of the ocean. Still, his crew needed him more than Bailey did right now. He took a deep, cleansing breath and made his way back into the school. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 3
The Backstagers had performed the ritual once before, and with so much on their minds, they gathered the necessary materials in the Club Room almost automatically.
A circle of chalk on the floor.
A lit white candle.
A bowl of sea salt.
A glass of spring water.
A swirl of incense smoke.
“Hey, guys,” Hunter said. “Everybody turn your phones off. They have the God Mic again and could be listening to us through them. From now on, let’s only turn them on when we absolutely need to.”
The Backstagers nodded and powered down.
When they were all seated inside the circle of chalk, Reo called out, “Phoebe Murphy! Are you there?! We need to speak with you urgently!”
Hunter, Jory, Timothy, Jamie, Sasha, and Aziz all bowed their heads and focused their minds on Phoebe, benevolent ghost of the Arch Theater. They’d learned the hard way to be very specific about who they were contacting when attempting to converse with spirits.
“Phoebe, appear to us, please!” Reo commanded. The flame in the candle flickered.
“I’m here.” A small voice echoed all around them.
The Backstagers raised their heads and watched the incense smoke solidify slightly in the air. There was the figure of a girl. Two signature pom-poms in her hair. And suddenly the face of Phoebe Murphy, a vision made of smoke and candlelight.
“Phoebe! You’re okay!” Reo said.
“I’m unharmed—I am a ghost, after all,” Phoebe said. “But ‘okay’ is another story. The artifacts have been stolen. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to protect them.”
“You did your best,” Jory said. “That soldier, that . . . Double-face. His tools were incredible.”
“Yeah, how was he doing that?” Aziz asked. “He pulled a freaking jackhammer out of that tiny pouch on his belt!”
“And the box,” Sasha said. “He fit a whole entourage in there.”
“I did wonder what kind of tool could defeat the power of a legendary artifact,” Phoebe echoed.
“You don’t mean . . .” Timothy looked to his crew.
“Those were other legendary artifacts,” Jamie said. “What were the other artifacts Mr. Rample told us about?”
Hunter took inventory. “We know about the Ghost Light, Master Switch, God Mic, and Designer’s Notebook. Then there was . . . the Carpenter’s Belt . . . the Prop Box—”
“A belt and a box!” Jory said. “That must have been them.”
“That means,” Jory said, gravely, “with our four artifacts combined with the two they brought to steal them, they have six of the seven.”
Everything was silent except for the licking of the candle’s flame. Thiasos had told Jory that they were aiming to collect all seven artifacts, and now they were dangerously close to their goal.
“So what artifact does that leave?!” Aziz asked.
“It’s called . . . the Show Bible,” Hunter said. “That was the seventh artifact Rample named.”
“Then we have to find it,” Aziz said, always looking to fix what was broken. “It’s our only hope.”
“But how?” Sasha asked. “Before, I could have used the Master Switch to light our way to it, but now Thiasos has it. I bet they’re on their way to the Show Bible right now!”
Jory nodded and said, “And even if we could somehow cut them off on their way, they have six artifacts to fight us with. We wouldn’t stand a chance!”
“And the Greenroom is erased,” Reo said. “Now all the rooms are scattered throughout the tunnels again. If we can’t even find our way back to the Arch Theater, where do we start looking?”
“Wait a minute,” Jory said. “Reo, how did we find all those rooms in the first place?”
“Oh . . .” Reo said.
“What do you mean?” Timothy asked.
“The backstage responds to the will of the Backstager, right?” Jory said. “If you need to find a room badly enough, it will show itself to you. Reo found a way to focus his will on specific rooms so we could find them and catalogue them in the Greenroom. Reo, if you can do it to find rooms, maybe you can do it to find the Show Bible?!”
“In theory, it would work, but I don’t know . . .” Reo said. “The rooms were all places we’d been before. The Show Bible has to be much better hidden in the backstage.”
“Well, it’s worth a try, right?” Aziz insisted.
“It will take some deep meditation, but yes,” Reo said.
“There is one bit of good news,” Jamie said. “Next Friday is the start of finals week. Timothy and I will have to be taking tests with the other seniors, but you guys will have the whole week to search the backstage, uninterrupted.”
“Just hurry,” Phoebe warned. “I can protect the Arch Theater without the Ghost Light for a time, but if any truly powerful entities try to move in, I’ll be defenseless.”
“And I don’t know why Thiasos is trying to gather the artifacts,” Jory said, “but I don’t want to find out. When I was their prisoner, Aleka talked about using them all to summon a great power. I doubt they want to use that power to put on a stellar show.”
“Our best hope is to find the Show Bible, then, and keep it hidden,” Aziz said.
“Speaking of keeping it hidden,” Hunter said, “we still don’t know how Thiasos found our hiding place in the Arch Theater. That was the safest place in all of the backstage.”
“It’s a mystery,” Phoebe said, her image growing fainter. “One I suggest you solve, and fast. Hurry, Backstagers! Find the Show Bible before Thiasos does!”
As her spectral voice rang out, a draft picked up out of nowhere in the Club Room and extinguished the candle and the incense, leaving the Backstagers in quiet darkness.
CHAPTER 4
The Flambeau Online Edition, Monday
Special Breaking News Report by Quentin Quackenbush, Student Editor in Chief
Sources close to three different faculty members are reporting new details about today’s surprise school-wide assembly. While the weekend was awash with rumors that senior pranksters caused the electrical troubles that derailed the Dance at the Gym last Friday night, some students suspect a much darker problem (pun intended).
“This is way, way bigger than some flickering lights,” one such student, whose name is being withheld for fear of disciplinary action, told the Flambeau. In text messages sent directly to the student editing staff, the source provided information regarding phone calls they overheard while studying near the faculty lounge. The source described the calls as “desperate” pleas from a “top-ranking” faculty member for funds to keep the school afloat.
Could the dramatic light show at the Dance at the Gym be the result of delinquent bills rather than delinquent students?
We will all learn the truth together, just after lunch period, when we gather in the St. Genesius auditorium . . .
Beckett closed the tab on his phone and said, “Should I send an anonymous tip that the electrical problems were actually caused by a ghost trying to warn some Backstagers about an evil, two-faced villain stealing some ancient powerful objects?” He drained the last of his Diet Coke, the fifth he’d had that day.
Hunter chuckled and said, “Even with a story that enticing, I can’t imagine Quentin Quackenbush publishing the truth.”
They were sitting together in the crowded St. Genesius lunchroom, practically shouting over the din of hundreds of other students furiously speculating about the surprise assembly that had been called. It’s true that the early whisper was that a few seniors had sabotaged the lighting at the dance as a prank, but now the Flambeau scoop had turned that speculation on its head.
“And speaking of the truth,” Hunter said, “how are things with Bailey?”
“I think we’re okay. I just hate that I had to lie to her,” Beckett said.
“Well you know, Beck, you could just tell her everything.”
“Definitely not.”
“How come? Literally all of her friends are Backstagers! We’re all caught up in this except for her.”
“Maybe that’s good. Maybe I wanna protect her from it.”
Hunter scrunched his face up. “Protect her? I don’t think Bailey is the kind of person who needs protecting.”
“No,” Beckett said, “I don’t mean protect her, I mean protect . . . us. She’s the only thing I have in my life that’s separate from the backstage. I love the way I can shut all that off when I’m with her and we can just be . . .”
“Normal,” Hunter said, nodding.
“Yeah. And I’m afraid if I tell her, show her everything, she might run. The backstage is a lot to put on a person.”
“You’re telling me,” Hunter said. There was something far away in his eyes, but as he opened his mouth to say more, Jory plopped down beside him with a tray of cheese fries.
“If Genesius really is going under, I hope these fries survive the budget cuts,” Jory said. “They sustain me.”
He scooped a glob of neon orange cheese onto a fry and offered it to Hunter as Aziz, Sasha, and Reo rejoined the table with snacks.
“It feels so strange,” Aziz said, “to just be carrying on like everything is fine. Eating cheese fries and soft pretzels while Thiasos is out there with our artifacts.”
“Finals week starts Friday,” Hunter said. “That’s when we can all get to work looking for the Show Bible.”
“You mean I can get to work . . .” Reo said, looking overwhelmed at the thought.
“We’ll all be there to support you however we can,” Hunter said.
The bell sounded, and suddenly it was time to learn what awaited them at the assembly.
The cafeteria had been a cacophony of gossip, but the auditorium was an absolute roar as the entire student body swapped theories about what was about to go down.
As underclassmen, the Backstagers took a row of seats in the back. Hunter locked eyes with Timothy, who was hauling a podium to the center of the stage with Jamie. Timothy shrugged, just as mystified by the urgent assembly.
After adjusting the microphone on the podium and switching it on, Timothy and Jamie cleared the stage and soon, after the toll of a bell signaled the beginning of the period, it was time.
As Ms. LuPone, headmaster of St. Genesius, stepped into the stage lights and made her way to the podium, the hundreds of students fell silent and the room was instead filled with palpable tension. Ms. LuPone adjusted the microphone, clearing her throat, and then looked up to the sea of expectant faces.
“Good afternoon, students. My apologies for interrupting your classes today, especially with exams approaching, but as our year draws to a close, I wanted to make everyone aware that next year is going to be a little different. My great-grandfather founded this school with the intention of providing the highest-quality education at a tuition cost that would be accessible to all students—”
She paused, emotion catching in her throat. Jory looked at Hunter. This doesn’t sound good.
“. . . And I am very proud that we have been able to provide that to thousands of students over the years. Unfortunately, we can no longer make ends meet while keeping tuition the same. The board wanted me to raise tuition, but I couldn’t imagine betraying my great-grandfather’s vision for the school, so I’m afraid . . . we have to take another option.”
There were whispers in the audience.
A sophomore boy stood and shouted, “So Genesius is closing down?! Where will we all go?!”
Jory’s heart sank. In this short year, Genesius had become a home for him, and the Backstagers, his family.
“No, no of course not!” Ms. LuPone replied, quieting the murmurs. “There was a miracle at the last minute! An investor agreed to buy the school, pay off our debts, and even upgrade all of our facilities while keeping tuition exactly as is. So next year, the only difference for you will be newer and better everything. And a different headmaster. But that’s okay!” she said, smiling through misty eyes. “All good things must come to an end, and it has been the honor of my life, serving you students. I am overjoyed, really, that the wonderful Thiasos Organization has come in to save the day.”
The Backstagers gasped. Aziz stood, ready to charge the stage. He didn’t really know what he would do when he got up there, but Aziz was the type to leap before he looked. Hunter, more strategic, pulled him back into his seat. They shared a grave look.
“It is my pleasure,” Ms. LuPone continued, “to introduce the president of the Thiasos Organization, Mrs. Thiasos herself!”
Ms. LuPone stepped to the side of the podium and banged her hands together in applause as if her sheer enthusiasm would spread to the entire student body and make everything all right.
A woman entered from the wings to replace her at the podium. She was tall and thin with a stark white suit, heels, and gleaming short hair—also white and immaculately quaffed. To the untrained eye, she appeared a polished, even glamorous figure who moved with power and purpose—an ideal new leader for a struggling school. However, the Backstagers knew that anyone with her last name couldn’t be bringing good news.
“Good afternoon, students!” Even her Mediterranean accent was alluring. “And thank you, Ms. LuPone, for that wonderful introduction. My company, the Thiasos Organization, saw that your school was struggling and decided that it was far too special to close down. We are honored to continue the work that the LuPone family began generations ago while updating the school for a new generation! We want to begin the next school year with fresh facilities, but we have quite a lot of work to do before then, so do forgive our dust as we start work immediately! In fact, we are beginning with the renovation of this very auditorium!”
The back doors of the auditorium swung open, and two lines of construction workers in white THIASOS branded uniforms and hard hats entered and walked down the two aisles toward the lip of the stage. Sasha looked up at one of them as he passed by and he sneered back.
Mrs. Thiasos leaned into the microphone, her eyes gleaming with dark delight, and practically sang, “And of course, we’ll be renovating the theater as well.”
Jory took Hunter’s hand and Hunter squeezed. They were powerless.
“Yes,” Mrs. Thiasos cooed, “next year, St. Genesius will be able to boast a state-of-the-art theater facility, and I am very pleased to announce to our Drama Club students out there that the Thiasos Organization will even provide a professional stage crew!”
The students cheered, but the Backstagers sat frozen as Mrs. Thiasos flashed her twisted smile.
CHAPTER 5
As throngs of students poured out of the auditorium chatting gleefully about what improvements they’d like to see made to the school over summer vacation—“Soft-serve machines!” “A hot tub!” “VR lounge!”—Timothy and Jamie ran up the aisles to intercept their stricken crew.
“You guys okay?” Timothy asked as he wrapped Sasha in a hug.
“We had no idea,” Jamie said. “They’re already back there, the workers. They padlocked the stage door shut.”
“So how do we get to the Club Room?” Hunter asked.
“And the backstage?” Reo added. “How can I search for the Show Bible with no access to
the backstage?”
Timothy and Jamie just looked at each other sadly. They didn’t have an answer.
“Ah, just who I wanted to see,” cooed a voice.
The Backstagers turned to see Mrs. Thiasos striding up the aisle toward them, smiling her marionette smile as Ms. LuPone scurried along behind her.
“Yes,” said Ms. LuPone. “These are our Genesius Backstagers!”
“Were,” Aziz said, coldly. Ms. LuPone’s smile fell.
“I expected you might be . . . concerned about the announcement,” Mrs. Thiasos said. “But fear not! This will be a great opportunity for you! We will be hiring the finest professional crew possible, and I will personally see to it that each of you gets an apprenticeship to learn from them.”
Ms. LuPone looked eagerly at the Backstagers, whose stony faces did not ease her anxiety.
“They will help you learn all about crewing out in the real world,” Mrs. Thiasos said. “And I expect you can, in turn, help them learn about the ins and outs of this particular space. I’m sure there will be some . . . artifacts . . . of the old system left behind. Maybe we can all help each other. What is it you say here in this country: ‘If you can’t beat them, join them’?”
“We’ll think about it,” Jory said, though his eyes told her exactly what he thought about it already.
“I hope you do,” she replied with a stare icier than her whiteout outfit.
Out in the student lot, the Backstagers circled up.
“We’ll . . . come up with something,” Timothy said.
“We always do,” Jamie agreed, though he didn’t sound very inspired.
“Like what?” Aziz said, agitated. “Our artifacts are gone, our access to the backstage is gone! We lost!”
“Maybe Penitent Angels?” Sasha suggested. “All the backstages are connected! We can use their Unsafe door?”
“When, though?” Beckett asked. “We’d have to, like, sneak in after-hours and keep coming up with excuses for our parents.”
