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Glen crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance, claiming his territory. “No problem,” he said. “All the leads are always assholes to us anyway. This should be good.” He rubbed his hands together and smiled. “I have to head back up to the booth. Good luck.”

We did our best to blend in with the theater kids. Glen had advised us to wear all black so that we might be mistaken for techies. The three of us hid behind a rolling staircase made of plywood that had been painted to look like marble flooring (an old set piece, I assumed).

Alice shed her coat to reveal her pink gown, the one from Nifty-Thrifty. The dress dipped down in the front, lower than I’d realized at the store. So low that . . . Alice wasn’t wearing a bra. I felt her eyes on me, catching me staring at her chest. My cheeks flushed, and I pretended to study an old paint splatter on the concrete floor. We were about to sabotage the school play, and all I could think about was her lack of bra.

“Okay,” said Dennis, not noticing the tension I so obviously felt. “I’m headed up to the rafters.”

I nodded.

Dennis pulled a delicate tiara and a honey-blond wig out of his backpack, handing both to Alice, then left.

A moment later, the stage went black in preparation for the next scene.

“You look fine, Celeste,” a girl assured from a few feet ahead of us.

“The skirt feels tighter than it did last week,” answered Celeste.

“Totally not your fault,” said the girl. It sounded like Mindi. “I think Kinsey screwed up everyone’s alterations. And you’re going to kill this number anyway.”

“I think I might use a recording of one of the performances for my musical theater program audition tape as part of a montage. Like a best-of-moments thing.” She paused. “I’ve heard some people apply as early as two years out.”

I looked to Alice, my eyes wide.

The stage lights came up.

She shook her head, and mouthed to me, “Don’t worry—she has this coming.”

I shook my head again and Alice took my hand, pulling me to her.

“Please,” she whispered, so close to me that when she spoke, our lips touched.

“Fine, but after this I’m done.”

She smiled with her mouth closed.

We stood, watching the scene, waiting for the dream sequence to begin. Finally, Celeste sat down in the rocking chair and pretended to fall asleep—our cue.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the stage.”

She nodded and tugged the wig onto her head. With the wig, she almost looked normal. Alice was at that good point, a couple days before she would be going back for another round of chemo. Her body had recovered long enough for her to get in a few days of freedom only to return for her next round. Sometimes I wondered if the chemo was too much for one body to handle. And maybe it did more harm than good. And yeah, the chemo might kill the cancer, but it might kill Alice too.

I didn’t know either of the guys who played Curly or Jud, but the one playing Curly went out on stage and began to dance with Celeste. Actually, he just sort of stood there while Celeste danced around him. She spun and leaped across the stage, putting her ballet experience to use while making everyone else look like amateurs.

The one who played Jud stood in the wings, waiting for his entrance. I bounced on my toes a little, trying to psych myself up before tapping him on his shoulder. He was huge, the kind of guy who basketball coaches saw on the first day of high school and fawned over.

I just hoped I didn’t get my ass kicked.

He turned around and whispered, “What?”

“We’re having some issues with your mic. I’m supposed to re-mic you.”

He shook his head. “Wait till intermission. There’s no singing in this number.”

“I’ve got shit to do at intermission. I’m fast, I swear.”

He looked over his shoulder to see Celeste still dancing around the other guy and nodded reluctantly.

I led him to the small dressing room off stage right. Once inside, he unbuttoned his shirt.

“We’ve got to make this fast,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m on it.” I dug through my bag, my heart pounding and sweat pooling at the back of my neck. “Oh, hey, man. I must have dropped the cord right outside. Give me a second.”

He sighed. “You’re killing me, dude.”

“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

He paced up and down the length of the dressing room, doing some voice exercise.

I almost told him to forget it and that I’d get his mic later. But instead, I flipped the thumb lock on the door and left him there in the dressing room, locked inside, as I ignored the twinges of regret prickling up my spine.

Running around to the other side of the stage, I had a second to process what was happening in the play. Celeste danced with a group of girls, holding bouquets while they placed a veil on her head. I remembered this part from the movie. Laurey and Curly had danced around and I guess that somehow meant they should get married, and because girls can smell marriage, all of Laurey’s friends had rushed to help her prepare for her dream-sequence-certainly-doomed-wedding.