1. Uninvited Guests

       Cody Simon stood in front of the microphone, twisting and pulling and playing with wires. I watched as he attempted to switch out the mic already on the stand with the wireless one he'd assured me last week he could hook up. From the way the sweat was forming on his forhead and how he was glancing around every few seconds nervously, I seriously doubted he'd been telling the truth.

       "Cody!" I exclaimed, walking out from behind the back curtain. "I thought you said you could make this work."

       Poor boy, he almost jumped out of his skin. "Ah--oh. Hi, Sybella. What's up?"

       "The odds of Kat not being able to perform tonight, apparently. Why are you still working on this? You said you could work it out just as well as Mikol," I said. Mikol Fletcher was Harmony Falls High School's resident tech nerd. Need that C in Math changed to a B? Or in this case, need a wireless mic hooked up for what may have been the most important school event of the year? Mikol was the guy to do it.

       But Mikol was stuck in bed (major case or the flu, ew!) so the job had been handed over to his somewhat less talented freshman brother, Cody. Who, honestly, only attempted working on tech-y stuff because his parents would be happy with it. They were both inventors or engineers or whatever you call them. Really great with technology, and they had passed that gene down to Mikol. Cody, however, hadn't recieved that particular gene.

       So, despite his best efforts, Cody looked up and said, "Sorry, Bella, I don't think this is gonna work out."

       I was about to groan, but then settled for a more than well-deserved sigh. "That's fine. I'll just, uh, call Mikol and see if we can work it out over the phone."

       "Actually, maybe I should call him. You're not exactly tech-savvy yourself, Sybella," Cody reminded me. It was true. Although he lacked the actually tech-prodigy status Mikol had, Cody was fairly book-smart about that kind of thing, whereas I could barely figure out how to answer my phone, after having it for three years.

       "Good call," I said.

       I wandered off backstage and found my best friend, Kat Duncan, pacing back and forth. "Whoa, Kat, take it easy. You're gonna wear a hole through the wood," I joked.

       Kat saw me and practically ran into me. "Sybella, I am going to faint. I can not do this!"

       Fabulous. I was only the stage director, I was only supposed to make sure that every little detail was perfect, that this whole play/concert went off without so much as the slightest hitch. And now I had to calm my suddenly not-so-sure of herself best friend down? That was not in the job description.

       I put both my hands on Kat's shoulders. "Kat. Calm the hell down. It's a high school play, not a Broadway audition. There is seriously no need for you to be freaking out right now."

       "Easy for you to say. You're Miss Fearless. When was the last time you felt freaked out?" Kat asked.

       "Right now, 'cause you're getting stage fright sweat all over the stage. Now please, stop it, before I have to find a mop."

       I knew my friend well. He eyes got wide, and then went back to their usual, look-at-me-I'm-so-sexy Kat look. Which, on anyone else, would have looked ridiculous. But Kat was pretty enough to pull it off. "You so did not just say that. I don't sweat." She looked down at herself, as if to find some trace of water.

        Never doubt the power of vanity. I smiled. "You're right. You don't. And if you wanna keep it that way, you better stop with all that sweat-inducing nerve-pacing."

       Kat nodded, though she still looked a little wild, and went off, I supposed, to touch up her face.

       I wandered around backstage for a little bit. Thankfully, everything else was going swimmingly. Swimmingly, what a nice word. I like swimming, and I thought it was the perfect word to describe something I valued probably more than most anything else: order.

 

* * *

 

       The lights went down. The curtain went up. And Kat was standing, center stage, and started belting out lines perfectly. She spoke up. She enunciated. She killed her first scene. And second. And third. And so on until her solo.

       Thankfully, Mikol had been alive enough (er, well enough?) to help us out over the phone, and the mic was working just fine. Kat, copper curls bouncing and frilly little dress, ah, frilling, hit every note perfectly, and didn't miss a lyric. Halfway through the show, and everything was going just swimmingly.

       Until Gia Hemsworth walked onstage.

       Now, Gia was never my favorite person. She was a little like cotton candy: a nice idea, but somewhat lacking in real life. She was nice and somewhat thoughtful, but her timidness made her seem more than a little like an airhead. I had been surprised when she'd auditioned for the show. But hey, who was I to argue? And boy, could she memorize. She'd tried out for a character with probably the longest monologue I've ever seen in a high school play. Her only problem was speaking loud enough for people to hear, and the past few days she'd done just fine with that anyway.

       But then opening night came, and wow. Not only could people in the front row barely hear her, but she was still as a board, and about as interesting to. A shame, that monologue was a piece of work.

       Finally, she got off the stage, her part done, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. It was inevitable, no school play goes off completely perfect, but did it have to be the monologue? Couldn't the lights have flickered? Or couldn't the mic have not worked, just forcing Kat to sing a bit louder? Really, that was the worst time to have a screw up.

       Of course, looking back, it probably wasn't so bad, considering what happened later.

       Kat came back onstage, and the rest of the play went by just fine. Better than I had expected actually. And then it got bad.

       The whole cast, crew, and a few teachers were all lined up for the bow...and the back of the auditorium exploded. Dust and smoke went everywhere, triggering watery eyes and a sneezing fit from Cody, who was plagued with some awful allergies. Even as I realized germs were the least of my problems, I took a step away from him, mid-sneeze.

       A man walked in. He looked a little like Dog the Bounty Hunter, at least in size. He wore dark sunglasses, despite the fact that it was already ten at night, and wore only a pair of black pants and a long dark ponytail tied behind his neck.

       "Ah, anyone know who that is?" Gia asked in her little mouse voice.

       Definitely not a part of my show, I thought angrily.

       But it just got worse from there. The man seemed to be looking for something, and then he spoke. "I am looking," he said, and his voice was low, harsh, "for Sybella Meridian Penrose."

       "Fabulous," I said.