Fade to Us Read online

  Food service would be an exception. I could do that, but standing on my feet all evening after nine hours in the theater wouldn’t be pleasant. I would put it down as a last resort.

  Babysitting was still an option. I’d let my regular families know that I was free again in the evenings.

  With my limitations, the prospects didn’t look good. I would have to widen the list of possibilities. The ideal job would allow me to work from home, on a schedule I set, without anyone caring how I dressed or smelled. I needed to explore internet options. While I’d never considered crowd-sourcing jobs before, I would now with an open mind and my creep-radar turned on full blast.

  I’d been scouring the internet for an hour when my stepfather’s tread went past my door. I called, “Jeff, I need your opinion.”

  His presence filled my room. “What can I do for you?”

  “Look at this.” I pointed at my laptop.

  He dragged a chair closer and peered at the screen. “Catch me up.”

  I loved when he spoke like that. Businesslike. Treating my concerns seriously. “I’m looking for a job.”

  “To do what?”

  “Whatever I can get. Office work. Maintaining websites. Data entry in Excel.” I pointed to some online ads that I might respond to. “Like these.”

  His gaze went to the screen, lingered for a few seconds, and returned to me. “Why are you doing this?”

  “For the money.”

  “Is this about the car?”

  “Yes, sir.” No reason to lie. I hadn’t given up.

  He eyed me thoughtfully. “I’m in a bind with my business. What would you think about working for me?”

  Interest spiked. Work for Jeff and actually earn money? Sounded about perfect. “Sure, if I can. What do you need?”

  “I’ve just bid on a pair of terrain mapping projects. If I win them, it’ll be more than I can handle alone, so I’m hiring a retired Army buddy of mine. I’ve started on the paperwork, and it’s taking too much of my time. I didn’t realize how many forms there would be.”

  “Do we file online or in person?”

  “Some of both. The process has ten steps. I shut down after two.”

  “I would definitely consider working for you.” As in, yes. No further thinking necessary. Could he hear how happy I was?

  “Good. Tomorrow night, I could show you, and you can make your decision then. The Small Business Administration site has a checklist that we can review.” His smile was hesitant. “I’d have to pay minimum wage.”

  “But I could count on extreme flexibility in my schedule. Right?”

  “Whatever you want, as long as we meet our deadlines.” He rubbed the back of his head. “If I could, I would give you the car, but I can’t do it right now.”

  He would? That was unexpected. And sweet. And a bit overwhelming. I looked away from him, my gaze landing on the computer screen. “I’d like to earn it anyway.”

  “Fair enough. Give my offer some thought, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” He left.

  I had managed Mom’s tutoring business for years, so I had decent familiarity with the legalities of being self-employed. But it had just been her. No staff. I started searching for information about hiring new employees. Jeff would show me again, but it couldn’t hurt to already understand what I was facing. If I worked fast and did this project well, maybe he’d find other things for me to do.

  * * *

  After my shower, I was returning to my bedroom when I heard Kaylynn’s ringtone. I raced for the nightstand and picked up the phone. “Hi.” I flopped onto my bed, so glad that she’d called.

  “Hi. How are things?” Her voice didn’t have its usual happy bounce.

  “Good.” Did she miss me? I missed her. We had to find a way to fix this. “Everything okay?”

  “We went to the beach house this weekend.”

  The trip that she and I had planned together. I tried to think of something to say, but my mind was feeling kind of thick and sloppy. “That sounds like fun.”

  “Um, Daddy says you quit.”

  “I did.” Here was the real point of the call. Weirdly, I’d forgotten. Even though I’d resigned only two days ago, I’d put it behind me, and that’s where I wanted it to stay.

  “Is Natalie the reason?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because?”

  “Mom and Jeff are gone a lot. It’s better to have someone available for her.”

  “She’s had another meltdown, and you’re afraid she’ll have more.”

  I didn’t say anything, although my silence confirmed it.

  “Thought so. You’re sacrificing for her again, and she won’t even notice.” Kaylynn sighed. “I knew it was something like this, so I talked to Daddy. He said you were doing great work on the computer, and he’s willing to reconsider. If you’d prefer the mornings only, he’ll find someone else for the afternoons.”

  “Wow, that’s nice.” Mr. Wilson could be pretty stubborn, so this was generous of him, although it was too late to accept. “I have to turn him down, but tell your dad thanks.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I have a new job.” Two, actually, but I wasn’t ready to go into the details.

  “Already?”

  “Yeah. It starts tomorrow.”

  She snorted. “Doing what?”

  No need for her to get like that. I couldn’t have predicted her father would take me back. “I’m volunteering at the theater camp.”

  “For no pay.” Her voice was tight. “I asked Daddy to hire you. Twice.”

  “I appreciate that, but you should’ve checked with me first.”

  “I didn’t want to raise your hopes if it didn’t work out.”

  A solid decision, but she wasn’t going to make me feel guilty for not reading her mind. She didn’t speak, and neither did I. Instead, we sat there, listening to each other fume. Somebody had to break through the standoff. Guess that should be me. “Can we hang out this week? I’ll be free after five.”

  “I switched some shifts with another lifeguard, so I’m on in the evenings.”

  “Every night?”

  She hesitated. “I have one night off, but I’ve got a date.”

  I waited for more information, but none came. “How about next weekend?”

  “Sylvie and I were thinking about hitting a spa on Sunday.”

  Natalie hated spas. This outing avoided issues all around. “A mani-pedi sounds good. I don’t have any plans.”

  “Okay, I’ll text you after I get the reservation. Bye.”

  I ended the call, then tossed my phone onto the nightstand.

  A sound from the hall caught my attention. “Were you talking to Kaylynn?”

  “Yes.” What had Natalie heard this time? My side of the conversation couldn’t have been that bad.

  “Would her dad have given your job back?”

  The simple answer was yes, but the truth was that I was happy with the change in plans. I was looking forward to volunteering at the theater, and I loved the idea of working for Jeff and earning income again. “It’s no big deal, Natalie.”

  She shook her head and went into her room. The lock snapped into place.

  Wow. I didn’t know Natalie’s reason for being upset, and I didn’t care about Kaylynn’s. But I was getting tired of having everything I did right turn out wrong.

  13

  Mysterious but Essential

  Choosing clothes to wear to the arts center was harder than finding an outfit for the jewelry store. Nearly everything in my closet met the camp’s dress code, which made my decision worse. Did I want to look good? Be comfortable? Would anyone even notice? I glanced at the clock. It was almost time to leave the house, and I was running late. On the first day of my new, unpaid job.

  Denim shorts, my favorite sandals, and a Durham Bulls T-shirt. Cute and casual. The only thing left to do was face and hair. I adjourned to the bathroom and pondered the possibilities.

  There was a knock at the doo
r as it opened. “Ready?” Natalie asked.

  “No, and you shouldn’t walk into an occupied bathroom unless the person inside says it’s okay.”

  “Whatever. I think makeup is a waste of your time.”

  I scowled. “Sometimes, you should just say nothing.”

  “I said that wrong. You weren’t supposed to take offense.”

  My hands stilled on my makeup bag. “Go on.”

  Her face joined mine in the mirror. “When you’re already pretty enough and you put on makeup anyway, it’s like you’re trying too hard.”

  “Thanks. I guess.” Okay then. No makeup today, since I didn’t need it.

  While I was whipping my hair into a high ponytail, Mom called up the stairs, “Girls, let’s go.”

  I posed for Natalie. “How am I?”

  “Fine, except you have to lose the shoes.”

  “Why?”

  “No open-toe shoes in the theater. Not safe. Micah’s particular about safety.”

  I ran to my closet, rummaged around for a pair of running shoes, tossed them into my backpack, and trailed Natalie down the stairs.

  * * *

  We’d just been dropped off when Micah and his mom pulled into a parking spot. Lisa hurried past us, so deeply lost in her thoughts that I doubted she saw us. He detoured in our direction.

  “Hey, Natalie.”

  “What’s on today’s schedule?”

  He reached into his backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here’s the plan.”

  She snatched it from him, frowning as she read.

  “Can you post it for me in the campers’ lounge?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She took off for the building.

  His gaze swept me from head to toe and lingered on my sandals. “You can’t wear those backstage.”

  And good morning to you, too. “I have a pair of running shoes in my backpack. I’ll change inside.”

  “That works.”

  We entered the building together, not saying anything, which was okay with me. I was strangely nervous. I expected to do well at this job, so why was I worried? Anything I did for them would be a bonus.

  “I’ll show you around first, starting back here.”

  Micah unlocked a door at the rear of the auditorium and ushered me into a small, raised room. It held all kinds of electronic equipment and had a huge window that gave us a clear view of the stage.

  “We call this the booth. It’s where we control sound and lights. During the performances, this is where I’ll spend most of my time, running the show.”

  “Where will I be spending most of my time?”

  “For now, with my mom. If she runs out of things for you to do, find me.” He preceded me from the booth, locked the door behind me, and led the way past some curtains at the front. “I only have twenty minutes before I have to set up the stage. We’ll tour backstage while I explain the rules.”

  “Sure.”

  “Rule number one. Safety first.” He pointed at my feet. “You have to put the other shoes on before we go any farther.”

  I lowered myself onto a long, low black box, only to have him grasp my arm and haul me up again. I glanced at him, startled. “What?”

  “Rule number two. If you don’t know what it is, don’t touch it.”

  “Okay.” I shifted to a stool behind a stack of ropes and changed shoes.

  The tour roared past in a blaze of information. Micah guided me through a maze of hallways, explaining what the different rooms were used for. Happily, they had their purpose painted on the doors. He reintroduced the other members of the production team as we came across them and filled in the details of what they did. Every chance he got, he threw in more safety rules.

  He gestured at a ladder. “I’m big on safety.”

  “I’ve already noticed.”

  “It’s best not to climb ladders at all, but if you must, have a spotter around. Always.”

  I hid a smile. Would he tell me not to run with scissors next? “Yes, sir.”

  “Never lift anything without work gloves on.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me lifting anything heavier than a pencil.”

  His lips twitched. “Never move stuff around without the tech director’s instructions.”

  “Got it.”

  “No running backstage, no playing with power tools, no painting without ventilation.”

  I exhaled loudly. “Are we done yet?”

  “Almost. We’ll make a stop by the camp office. You can leave your backpack in there, if you want.”

  He walked over to a closed door, knocked once, and entered. It was a tiny room, with little more than a desk, filing cabinet, computer, and printer. The camp manager spun around in her chair and gave Micah a big smile.

  “Elena, do you remember Brooke?”

  She directed her big smile at me. “Natalie’s stepsister.”

  Micah nodded. “Since you missed the production meeting Friday, you might not have heard that Brooke’s volunteered to be the director’s assistant.”

  While she and I were saying hi to each other, Micah crossed to the cabinet and dragged open a drawer. When he turned back to me, he held a headset.

  “You can monitor what’s going on in the theater with this. May I?” At my nod, he slid the headset onto my head and adjusted it over my ear, his fingers brushing softly against my neck. “It’s off for now, but to turn it on, there’s a switch on the side.”

  “Got it.”

  “We’ll end the tour on the stage.” He left the office and strode down the hall.

  I hurried to catch up. “What are we going to do?”

  “Set up for today’s first scene. Laurey and Curly will be rehearsing ‘The Surrey with the Fringe on Top.’”

  “Are those their real names?”

  “No, Mom prefers to call the principals by their character’s name. She thinks it helps the actors grow into their roles faster. Laurey and Curly are the two leads. We’re about to make them a pretend bench.”

  “And we do that how?”

  “Imagination.” He led me through the wings onto the stage. “See those two wooden boxes at the back? They’re a bench. Put them downstage.”

  “Which is where?”

  He laughed. “Near the audience, but not so close to the edge that they fall off.”

  “I think I can handle that.” My career as a director’s assistant had begun.

  * * *

  As the campers trickled into the auditorium over the next half hour, the noise built. Promptly at nine, Micah shooed me off the stage and joined his mother in front as they gave speeches that vaguely resembled pep talks. At the end, the campers rose and split up, with the two leads coming onstage, and the rest of the cast heading off to lessons or singing.

  Lisa walked over to the actors and talked, hands gesturing gracefully. Micah crossed to the table in front of the first row and sat on an empty chair. He waved me over and indicated the chair next to him.

  I eased onto it and waited.

  “Here.” He handed me a thin green binder and a mechanical pencil. “This is yours.”

  “What is it?”

  “You have an abridged version of my binder. It has space for notes, a schedule, and a script.” He studied me through his cute glasses. “Mom will join us in a minute to block the scene. Write down whatever she says on the script. We’ll compare later.”

  I settled the binder on my lap and flipped it open. There were color-coded tabs. Pockets containing CONTACT LISTS, DAILY SCHEDULE, REHEARSAL CALENDAR. And the script. This binder held everything I could think of and more. I averted my head to hide my smile of delight.

  On Friday, Micah had resisted offering me the job. Today, he’d included me in his process—had made me a member of his team. It was probably a small thing to him. Practical, even. But to me? It was huge. I’d only been here an hour and already felt like part of the production. All because of this ugly green binder.

  Looking up, I started to say than
ks.

  He was bent over the table, scratching notes. I’d been forgotten.

  Yeah. A member of the team.

  * * *

  For my first hour as the director’s assistant, I shadowed Micah. When he sat, I sat. When he talked, I listened. If he scribbled something down, I duplicated it in my binder.

  During a lull between two scenes, he snatched up his binder and went backstage, with me trailing behind. We went to the workshop, where the technical director was sawing lumber. Chip turned off the saw when he spotted Micah. They chatted, speaking a kind of English that communicated nothing to me. I wrote down their conversation verbatim.

  Micah spun around and blinked, as if surprised I was there. He glanced at my notes. “Did you record everything we said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Then he was off again, striding down the hall, with me hurrying to keep up. We ended in the auditorium, sitting at the table with Lisa, writing down everything she said.

  Midmorning, Micah called a break.

  Lisa rose. “I’ll be in the office.”

  I watched her go. “Should we follow?”

  “No, she’s on her own during breaks.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I’m taking Sam’s small group while he makes a phone call. You can hang out in the staff lounge, if you like.”

  “I’ll come with you.” I was eager to see what the small groups did, especially the one run by Norah. As we exited the auditorium, I asked, “Why aren’t you a counselor?”

  “I’m not at the moment, but I will be. Sort of.” He held the exterior door to the patio for me. “Right now, the camp only has actors. In another week, a new set of campers will show up to be our backstage crew. I’ll fill in as a counselor for the ninjas.”

  “The what?”

  “The people who dress in black and creep around backstage doing mysterious but essential things.” He laughed—and for once, he sounded like a kid who was still in high school. “When we’re not creeping around, we get to whine about the cast and play with the cool technology your county crammed into this arts center.”