Inevitable and Only(66)

“Remember your lines, remember your cues, but remember this above all,” he said. “As the Bard told us, ‘All the world’s a stage.’ This stage you’re about to cross for a couple hours tonight—it’s only a tiny fragment of the larger stage where we’re all playing out our parts. In the grand scheme of things, you could argue that none of it matters. Or you could argue that since none of it matters, all of it matters. Every last drop.”

He pressed the palms of his hands together as if praying, and pointed the tips of his fingers at each of us in turn. “People, I wish this for you on your opening night: that you may discover that the reason why you’re doing this, why you’re here on a Friday night spouting words you’ve memorized and wearing funny costumes”—he let his voice drop—“is because every last drop of it matters to you more than anything in the world.”

His words sounded oddly familiar, but I didn’t have time to think about it. At that moment, the audience fell silent—the lights must’ve gone down in the theater. The opening music began to play over the speakers, and Robin mouthed, “Break a leg!” and hustled off into the wings. I was in the very first scene. I smoothed my shaking hands over my pants—Micayla had sewn Beatrice a pair of men’s trousers and a billowy blouse, instead of a dress—and walked with Priya and Kieri, playing Hero and Leonato, to center stage, where we were supposed to be when the curtain went up.

Opening night was electric. Lines went zinging back and forth. We tossed cues at each other like Frisbees. Sam forgot a few of his lines (shocker), and at one point Jem Mark, playing Don Pedro, completely missed an entrance and there was a moment of panic onstage. But Rina managed to improvise until he came running out of the wings. We were all impressed.

Mostly, though, I was caught up in my scenes with Zephyr. I’d been trembling when the curtain went up, but once I started speaking, I slipped into my Beatrice skin and lost my Acadia nervousness. The play seemed to sling Zephyr and me from one Beatrice-Benedick scene to the next, and each time, we brought something fresh to our dialogue, some new energy we’d never quite reached in rehearsal. Our stage kiss earned us hoots and cheers from the audience, who I’d nearly forgotten about in the intensity of our scene up until that moment. Even with his thumb against my lips, his mouth suddenly felt unnervingly close to mine, and my heart thudded so that the breathlessness of my next lines was entirely real.

After that, I floated on a rush of adrenaline until curtain calls. Renata, Ruby, and Raven did throw flowers at me when I came out to take a bow, and I heard Dad yelling, “Yeahhhhhhh, Greenfield!” I knew Farhan had asked Elizabeth to go to opening night with him, but I didn’t see them in the audience in the brief glimpse I got between bows.

I saw them after the show, though, waiting in the lobby with Dad.

“Cadie!” Dad yelled the minute he saw me, running forward to throw his arms around me. “Oh my god. My little girl. You were incredible.” Weatherman Voice, but muffled. I finally pulled away, and my throat tightened when I saw the tears streaming down his face.

The Woodburys and Max Frisch were there, too. Mom and Josh were at Josh’s dress rehearsal—even after everything that had changed over the past week or so, Dad hadn’t been able to convince Mom to move the rehearsal. Farhan had his arm around Elizabeth and was whispering something in her ear. Which … actually didn’t bother me. I poked at the Elizabeth-stole-Farhan feeling in the pit of my stomach, and nothing happened. Huh.

Then I saw that Max and Raven were holding a giant sign that said Acadia Rose Greenfield Fan Club. And they’d made baseball hats, too, with my initials on them. The hats said ARG. Something Mom and Dad had not considered when they’d named me, unfortunately.

“You guys,” I said, “you’re so embarrassing.” But the afterglow from the show was still pumping through my veins, and there was a warm thrill in my chest at all the attention. “I’m just going to run backstage and change,” I said, “and I’ll be right back out. Don’t go anywhere, Fan Club.”

“We made reservations at Tamber’s,” Raven called after me. “Celebratory masala and milk shakes?”

“Perfect, I’m starving!” I called back.

Almost everyone was still out in the lobby, greeting their families and friends. I didn’t expect anyone to be backstage when I turned down the hallways toward the dressing rooms.

So I was startled to see two people standing just outside the dressing room door. Robin and Zephyr. Robin was grinning but his face was streaked with tears, just like Dad’s, and he gripped Zephyr’s shoulders tightly with both hands.

I must’ve let out some noise of surprise. They both looked over at me, and Robin quickly wiped his eyes.

“I’m—I’m sorry—,” I stammered.

Robin looked at Zephyr, then at me. “You haven’t told her, have you?”

Told me what?

Zephyr shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cadie, I’m so sorry. Dad and I didn’t want anyone to know—”

“Dad?”

He nodded. “Robin’s my dad. We didn’t want people—the other kids—to think he was playing favorites or anything, casting me as the lead—”

“And I don’t,” Robin broke in. “I give each role to the student I think will be able to do it justice, grow in it, bring something new—”