“Well, look who decided to join us,” Hisashi said with a shake of his head and a disapproving expression. “Finally.”
The redhead in the Yusue school pinafore sighed, glaring down at her knee through her long red skirt. “I’m really sorry I haven’t been able to rehearse. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t walk, man.” I barely can now.
Another boy, a handsome sophomore sitting on a large crate with his legs extended over it, scoffed. “Well, good news, we’ve got a month to put a whole-ass show together, now that we’ve got a lead. Maybe we should’a just left Tsukiko in the lead.”
Ranko groaned. “Look, I didn’t ask for that. I told you guys, that wasn’t my choice! I’d switch with her right now if Zaito would let me!” She sighed quietly, looking down. “Listen, guys. I’m not trying to fight with anybody. I’ve got a lot of work to do to catch up, and I’m gonna need your help if we’re gonna pull this off. I don’t even have my costumes yet. Please.”
“Like, have you ever acted before, Ranko?” Hisashi’s wavy, light brown hair bounced lightly on his shoulders as he approached her. “I mean, you walked in here not even knowing the name of the show, and Zaito just handed you the most coveted role in Broadway history without so much as an audition, so…”
Well, you bought that I was bangin’ Eiji, just like the rest of the school, didn’t ya? Ranko shook her head with a quiet chuckle, but said nothing.
Akira sighed, trundling the massive orange Victorian dress she wore in the direction of the sophomore. “Hisashi, give her a break! She’s a world class singer!”
Ranko blushed brightly, fidgeting with her fingers demurely as her castmate defended her. I don’t know about world class, but world traveling will be true soon enough, I guess.
“Maybe so,” Hisashi said, taking off the tuxedo jacket he wore and tossing it over the back of a chair in the front row of Yusue’s theater. “But how are we supposed to know that if she’s never even showed up?” He raised his voice to be heard over the sound of hammers behind him as another part of the Phantom’s labyrinth was being constructed by a few student volunteers.
“I don’t know, dummy. Buy one of her CDs? If you can find a store that isn’t sold out of them, that is.” Akira rolled her eyes, smiling at their star. “Don’t mind him, Ranko. He’s just butthurt ‘cause he wanted to kiss Tsukiko at the end of act one.”
Ranko’s stomach roiled at the thought, but she nodded. “I get it. I really do. I’d probably be pissed in your shoes, too, but… I’m here now, whether I asked to be or not, and all I can do is make the best of it and try to do a good job for ya.”
“I dunno,” Yoshiro said, pulling the white plaster half-mask from his cheek and setting it aside. “This whole thing’s makin’ me nervous as hell.”
The young songstress cracked a small smile, looking down at her hands and blushing. The play’s Phantom had reminded her of a scene she’d read in the script a hundred times, in which her character had to prove herself to a similarly skeptical audience.
She knew exactly what she had to do, and she opened her mouth nervously to sing.
“Think of me. Think of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while. Please, promise me you’ll try?”
The hammering stopped. A few of the background dancers, who had been tittering off in a dark corner backstage awaiting their portion of the rehearsal, peeked out from behind the curtain. Their jaws were hanging open in stunned silence.
“Holy…” Tsukiko gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Then you’ll find that once again, you long to take your heart back and be free. If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me…”
Ranko blushed as Ms. Zaito slipped quickly onto the bench behind the grand piano, supporting her lead by joining her in the music mid-song. At least she knows how hard I’ve been working, despite not being able to rehearse for real, the redhead thought with an appreciative nod at her instructor.
“We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea. But, if you can still remember, stop and think of me. Think of all the things we’ve shared and seen. Don’t think about the way things might have been…”
----------------------------------------
“Love me. That’s all I ask of you.”
Ranko sighed as she and Hisashi finished the song together, looking up nervously at her teacher as the piano continued without her voice. She swallowed hard, fidgeting with her fingernails. “Do I absolutely have to do this? What if, in our version, Christine and Raoul are like, best friends? Bros? Like, maybe she knows he loves her, but she’s just not into him… like that?”
He could even play guitar, maybe.
Hisashi sneered, popping himself away from the gray faux brick with his elbows. “If you can’t do the role, step down from the role. Seems easy enough.”
Tsukiko said nothing, turning her gaze away as she blushed. I know the feeling, Ranko. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to kissing him, either. He smells funny, and he’s kind of a jerk.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Ranko, hon, c’mere. Let me show you something.” Akira stood carefully, struggling to straighten herself from her seat in the theater’s front row in a burnt orange boned corset over a matching dress with a wide Victorian hoop skirt. The girl playing Carlotta motioned to one of the boys who was working on the set dressings with a hand saw. “Shigeo, can I borrow you for a second?”
The wide-eyed freshman boy dropped his tool on the blue plastic tarp under his feet and plodded over with a grin. He wiped his brow with the left sleeve of his white school uniform shirt as he looked up into the young woman’s face, framed with dark brown curls that cascaded down to her shoulders. “What’s up, ‘kira?”
Ranko watched intently as the junior in the fancy dress grabbed Shigeo about the face, pulling him into a furious kiss that she held for several seconds. The redhead blushed brightly, biting her lip and trying to be respectful enough to look away. Sheesh. Get a room, you two.
“What the…” Shigeo blinked as Akira released his face. His cheeks were positively glowing red.
Masaru, the roundish boy playing Fermin, chuckled with a grin. “Oh, nice. You’re showing her the thumb thing.”
Ranko growled under her breath. Gods, I swear, if that means I’m supposed to pretend it’s his thumb poking me in the thigh, I’m fuckin’ out of here.
“I don’t get it, Akira. Unless you’re telling me I’m supposed to make sure my boyfriend gets cast…” And, well, that ain’t happening any time soon, Ranko thought, idly fingering her wedding ring with her left middle finger and pinky for reassurance.
Akira giggled, holding up her hand. Her thumb was smeared with hot pink lipstick. “Nah! Look. It’s a little trick actresses do. You like, cup their cheek with your hand like you’re being all lovey-dovey, with your thumb down by their chin. Then, at the last second, you stick your thumb over their mouth, and kiss that instead. It looks natural from the audience’s point of view, and absolutely zero cootie transfer occurs.”
“Whoa,” Ranko said. “That’s freakin’ genius. I couldn’t tell at all. How…”
“Look, Ranko. Watch.” She demonstrated again, more slowly, on Shigeo, and Akira blushed a bit herself at the realization that she could feel the temperature of the younger boy’s cheek rising through the skin of her palm. “See, we put our hand here, give ‘em a nice, long look. Really get the smolder going. That’s important to help sell the whole thing. Then, we get real close, hesitate for another quick moment, and, just before our lips touch…” As she lowered her head, her thumb slipped up from his chin quickly, resting horizontally across his lips as her mouth made contact with her knuckle.
The poor boy absolutely quaked under the beautiful upperclassman’s touch. He was not actually receiving a kiss, but he would not have hated it if he had been.
“Nice,” Ranko said with a relieved grin. You have no idea how many nightmares you just saved me, Akira. Fuck, I wish I’d been here to see this two months ago. “Thanks!”
Akira nodded with a smile of her own. “You got it! And, bonus tip: if you’ve got your hair down, it’ll be even easier to hide what you’re doing,” Akira volunteered as she straightened her back after looming over Shigeo for a third example stage kiss.
“Um, are you sure you got it, Ranko?” Shigeo lifted his quivering hand nervously, extending his index finger skyward. Had Ukyo been in the high school’s drama theater at the moment, she absolutely could have cooked an okonomiyaki on the boy’s cheeks, so warm were they. “I mean, if you need to see it a couple more times…”
As Akira giggled, Hisashi sneered again, rolling his eyes as he leaned back on the gray wooden facade of a gothic rooftop tower and crossed his arms defiantly. If he was going for the stereotypical bad boy look, he was failing miserably.
Dude, if you’re that determined to pull off the emo douche vibe, I could ask Shin to come give ya some pointers, Ranko thought with a sinister smirk. Let ya learn from the master.
“Oh, come on. Really? Those stage kisses always look so fake. You can always tell. I thought we were going for a quality show here. Some star you are.” Hisashi turned away from his co-star, walking toward a large wooden crate and reaching for the water bottle he’d left resting on it.
Masaru grumbled. “Would you quit your whining, Hisashi?” He turned to Ranko, corralling the tails of his costume’s red brocade coat behind himself. “Don’t mind him. He just knows this is the only way he’s ever gonna get a girl to kiss him.”
“Shut your hole, Adachi. I get lots of girls!” The boy cast as Raoul glowered, shooting a glare at the pudgy boy in the red coat.
“Posters don’t count, dude. However sticky they may be,” Masaru scoffed, smirking in Ranko’s direction as if clearly pleased with himself for his insult.
Probably rehearsed that one in his head for weeks, Ranko wondered, suppressing a chuckle.
Hisashi waved the stumpy sophomore off with his left hand, sipping from his water bottle. “Please. I can pull whatever bird I want.” He turned his head to Ranko. “Even the diva ones.”
Ranko growled lowly, taking a deep breath as she willed the fists she’d involuntarily balled her hands into to relax. “No, You know what? I think I got this thing. In fact, I bet I can do it just fine. Get over here, Hisashi!” She stalked toward the boy in the black tuxedo jacket, a resolute determination flaring in her deep blue eyes.
“Hey, hey, eas…. Mrmmmphrmm!!” The arrogant boy flailed his arms desperately, his eyes bulging, as Ranko reached under his wavy brown shoulder-length hair and took hold of his face with both of her hands.
“Um, Ranko? Honey?” Ms. Zaito stepped forward hesitantly in her black dress, holding up her hand limply as if calling for attention. Her timid, unassumingly soft voice carried some measure of concern. As she watched her hand-picked lead, she drew her hand back to her mouth in some combination of amusement and horror.
“You don’t… actually… have to… um… crush him…”