Cut the Lights by Karen Krossing

about his arm?” Sonata says. “Since when does a Star have a broken arm?”
    â€œMaybe he’s a fallen star?” George asks.
    Mica snorts. Sonata raises one eyebrow.
    â€œYou know, that could actually work.” I scribble a note to myself, thinking how we could add in a line or two, with Ratna’s approval. “Okay, enough chatting.” I stand up before Sonata can object to George’s idea.
    I grab my backpack off the floor, ready to reveal my new warm-up plan.
    â€œI want to start today’s rehearsal with a game of Twister.” I pull the spinner and mat from my backpack.
    Everyone looks surprised.
    â€œWhy?” Sonata’s tone is cold.
    â€œI knew you’d ask.” I smile, even though I’m not sure if Twister will do what I want it to. “It’ll remind us that this Fringe Festival is supposed to be fun. And”—I glance from Mica to Sonata—“it’ll help us get more comfortable with one another.”
    â€œBut it’s a kids’ game!” Mica says.
    â€œYup.” I lay out the mat.
    â€œHow is Clayton supposed to do it?” Sonata’s lip curls into a sneer.
    â€œHe can just use one arm. Let’s get started. You too, George. I’ll work the spinner.” I give it a twirl. “Left foot on red,” I announce.
    People from other groups watch us curiously. I turn my back on them.
    As we play, Mica avoids touching Sonata and ends up pretzeled at one end of the mat. Wiry Clayton is surprisingly good at it even with only one arm. George is having too much fun to care whether he wins. Sonata places each hand or foot precisely on the mat.
    When George finally makes everyone collapse in a heap, Mica leaps up while the others laugh. From across the room, Samuel gives me a thumbs-up. A few actors watch as if they want to join in. Mr. Ty nods, which is great.
    But I still need to get the play working.
    We run through a few scenes. When I incorporate two of Sonata’s blocking ideas, her shoulders relax slightly. And Sonata and Mica’s stage chemistry isn’t too horrible. Sonata is more aloof now, which works well with her character’s failing marriage. Mica’s hurt expression fits better since his character doesn’t understand why his wife is so demanding. It must be hell for Mica to act with Sonata now that she’s rejected him.
    Eventually, we wrap up and head out. Mr. Ty follows me, his pile of marking under one arm.
    â€œTwister was a nice touch,” he says. “How did you come up with it?”
    A grin spreads across my face. “I just grabbed it out of my closet this morning. I thought it might help.” I don’t tell him that I was staring hopelessly around my room, desperate to find some way to get Sonata and Mica to work together.
    â€œGood instincts.” Mr. Ty opens the cafeteria door for me.
    â€œThanks.” I walk through feeling eight feet tall, until I see Mica scurrying down the hall like a wounded animal and Sonata striding the opposite way.
    I shrink down to size.
    Obviously, one good rehearsal is not enough.

Eleven
    Outside Whitlock. Monday after school. A stream of students follows the worn path through the trees to the street. The smell of cigarettes wafts from the smokers’ corner, near the sidewalk.
    I trudge toward the bus stop. A squirrel leaps over some dandelions with more energy than I have. Today’s rehearsal was exhausting, but at least we’ve blocked the whole play—finally.
    I catch sight of Mica up ahead. His shoulders are rounded, and his head droops. God, he’s taking Sonata’s rejection hard. In rehearsal, Sonata was as high-strung as usual, and she looked right through Mica when they were offstage. Nice.
    I hurry to catch up with him, thinking I can take him to Bean Me Up for a coffee and a pep talk—until I remember that’s where it all went wrong for him.
    I change my tactic.
    â€œHey,