interruption. But Walker studied me with a shrewd look on his face; he knew I was trying to distract people while Tomas regained his composure.
'Would you now, Miss Baird,' Walker said. 'That old menacing stage fright seems to be waning, does it?'
I glanced at Tomas out of the comer of my eye. 'Seems to be.'
'All right. Paul, sit down.'
Paul stared at Walker a moment, caught off guard by the abrupt change, then slowly left the stage, pressing his lips together, giving me a smile that was meant to chill. I ignored him, glad he was walking slowly and giving Tomas time to pull himself together. Giving me time as well-l quickly bent over and stretched before climbing the steps to the stage. Onstage I worked my back, my wrists, and my ankles, knowing I looked silly to everyone in the audience and buying Tomas even more time.
'We'll start from the top,' Walker said.
Of course, I thought, let's drag him through it all again. But Tomas's eyes were clear now. If I could give the scene some lightness, play with him a little, I might get him through it and he'd have a chance of surviving camp. He looked at me curiously when I placed my script next to his feet and told him not to move an inch. I withdrew to the wings and removed my sandals. Walker sat back in his seat, arms folded over his chest, waiting.
Tomas delivered his first three lines with one less stutter. I listened, measuring with my eyes the distance between him and me. When the cue came, I raced forward and sprang, executing a handspring and round-off, landing five inches from his face. He laughed.
' 'Here comes my messenger,' ' he read, still laughing some. It worked well for his character. ' 'How now, mad spirit?'' I had done gymnastic routines to music, but never to Shakespeare's iambic pentameter. The report to Oberon ran twenty-nine lines. I performed only easy stunts and thoroughly mashed my script, but I kept everyone entertained-most important, Tomas. I made sure to finish up close to him so I could give him a nudge if he missed his cue, but he was ready for me. We ran through a bit of dialogue, and Mike and Kimberly entered to read their parts. Then it was our turn again with lines Tomas hadn't yet read, but he did okay, I guessed because he felt more relaxed.
When we finished, some of the kids broke into applause. Walker didn't say a word, just went on to the next group. I had probably ticked him off. I wondered what Mike was thinking. I was careful not to look at him; hoping for his approval seemed too much like competing with Liza.
The audition went on with Walker trying different combinations of actors. He dismissed us at four o'clock, a half hour early, instructing us to read the play once again for tomorrow. The cast would be posted in the morning.
Brian showed the group the way down to the back exit and we filed out quietly. As I reached the grass outside, someone yanked on me from behind, pulling my arm so hard it hurt, forcing me to turn around.
'That role was mine,' Paul said.
I could have insisted that I didn't want to play Puck, but he wouldn't have believed me, and if I explained why I had interrupted the scene, I'd embarrass Tomas.
'My name is Jenny,' I told him. 'If you want me, call my name, okay?'
'There's only one girl I ever wanted.'
I could guess who.
'Since you're new around here, Jenny, I'm going to give you some advice.' He gazed at my mouth, the only feature of mine that was like Liza's. 'Watch your step. Don't play too many games with people. Don't cross Walker. Last summer there was a talented actress who did, and she ended up dead.'
For a moment I could say nothing. 'If you mean Liza Montgomery, I believe she was the victim of a serial killer.'
'That's what people say,' Paul replied, walking past me. 'That's what people say.'
Keri and Mike hurried after Paul and a stream of campers followed. Realizing that I had better straighten things out with Brian and that this would be a good time to catch him alone, I ducked back inside Stoddard. I found him walking down the ground floor hall, deep in thought, jangling a ring of keys.
'Can I talk to you?'
Brian turned around. 'Sure. What's up, Jenny?'
'I want to apologize. I shouldn't have gotten you involved with my stage fright stuff.'
'No problem,' he assured me.
'And I want to explain about playing Puck.'
Brian grinned. 'I have to admit you had me very confused for a moment, then I figured you were rescuing the fat guy.'
'Tomas,' I said, wanting Brian to use his name.
'Tomas. Really, there's no need to apologize. It was worth it to see someone stand up to Walker. Most people don't.'
'Why does Walker act the way he does?' I asked. 'One moment he's nice, the next moment, obnoxious and insulting.'
'It's how he keeps control,' Brian replied. 'Walker would say it's how he gets the best from us. Since we never know what's coming next, we stay on our toes.'
'Why do you put up with him?'
'Good question.' Brian leaned against the stairway railing and smiled that slow-breaking smile of his. 'Basically, for the money and experience. I can't go to L.A. broke. I can't go there with nothing on my resume.'
'You mean to do film?'
He nodded. 'Of course, it annoys Walker that I'd choose film over stage. It shouldn't matter to him, since he's always telling me I can't act. But Walker has this loyalty thing. The way he sees it, everyone is either for him or against him, there's no in-between. He takes everything personally.'
I could imagine how personally he took Liza's response to him. 'That's a narrow way of looking at the world.'
'It's a very egotistical way,' Brian replied. 'And stupid. I mean, in the end, everybody is out there for himself. Sometimes it makes a person seem for you. Sometimes it makes a person seem against you.'
'That's a very cynical view!'
'Probably.' He smiled at me, then continued down the hall.
I'd had enough of theater types, and when I exited the building, I turned away from Drama House, heading left on Ink Street, the road that separated the quad from the houses, then taking another left on Scarborough, walking toward the main street of town. I remembered from Liza's e-mails that there was a cafe called Tea Leaves with terrific pastries and cappuccino.
Wisteria had to be the most peaceful town I'd ever strolled through. You could almost hear the flowering vines climbing their trellises. Every house had a sitting porch, every shop a tinkling bell on its door. Pedestrians moved much more slowly than in New York, adding to the sense of a town not subject to time. At the end of the long street of sycamores, sun glittered off the river. I walked all the way down to the harbor, then retraced my steps back to Tea Leaves.
The cafe was like a great-aunt's kitchen, with painted wood furniture and a linoleum tile floor, everything scrubbed clean. I had just settled down at a table with a chocolate doughnut and a cappuccino when I saw Tomas across the room from me, sitting by the big window. He gave me a small, selfconscious wave. I smiled back at him but stayed where I was.
When I looked up again, he was gazing intently out the window. His hand was moving quickly, sketching on an open pad. For fifteen minutes he managed to ignore the decadent pastry on his plate, drawing like a person possessed. I finished my doughnut and carried my cappuccino over to his table, wondering what he was working on.
'Hi.'
