Cut the Lights by Karen Krossing Page B

Sonata says. “Briar—”
    â€œLet me explain.” I hold up my hands. “The word ‘star’ has two meanings. Clayton’s character is a star in the sky, but he can also be the other type of star.” I pause as everyone stares at Clayton’s costume. “I’m playing our Star character with a Michael Jackson theme.”
    â€œWhat?” Sonata gapes.
    Mica nods at Clayton. “You even look a bit like him.”
    â€œCool,” George says.
    A grin creeps across Clayton’s face.
    â€œEach time you’re about to come onstage, we’ll play the beginning of ‘Billie Jean,’ and then you can moonwalk in,” I say. “Michael Jackson wore an outfit like this one in his music video, and he first did the moonwalk during a performance of ‘Billie Jean.’”
    â€œI suppose that will work, but what about his broken arm?” Sonata gestures at Clayton’s cast and sling.
    â€œRatna’s added two new lines. The first time we see the Star, Sonata will say, ‘What happened to your arm?’ And then Clayton will say, ‘I fell.’”
    George snorts. “It’s my fallen star idea!”
    â€œYup. I hope it’ll get a laugh.” I turn to Clayton. “So what do you think? It’ll modernize the play—we’ll set it in the eighties instead of the fifties.”
    Clayton pulls on the glove. “I can get into this.”
    â€œGreat!” I say, relieved.
    â€œWhat will Mica and I wear?” Sonata eyes the rest of the pile I’ve lugged in.
    â€œI’m sticking with mismatched outfits for Sylvia and Martin.” I show everyone a plaid suit for Mica and a dress with a zigzag print and fluffy orange slippers for Sonata. I also have the multicolored apron that Darla gave to Mom and two of Mom’s dishtowels. “I hope the clothes fit.”
    The jacket is too big for Mica, but it’s better than too small. Sonata slips behind a curtain to change into the dress. It fits her beautifully—she looks good no matter what she wears. With his small frame, pert nose and curly black hair, Clayton pulls off a terrific Michael Jackson.
    George takes photos of them for the program—my Martin, Sylvia and Star. They’re so perfect, it makes my eyes water.
    Mica, Sonata and Clayton change back into their regular clothes for rehearsal. George and I take our positions in the audience. The opening scene goes well, but Mica’s acting is flat in the slipper-throwing sequence.
    â€œOkay,” I say. “Let’s run through that scene again, but this time—”
    â€œNot again, Briar!” Sonata’s neck muscles are pulled tight. “We need to—”
    â€œThanks, but I’ll decide what we rehearse.” I ignore her dark look. “Although I do want to talk about your character’s needs in this scene,” I say, crossing my fingers that she’ll cooperate. “What do you think Sylvia wants?”
    Sonata leans against our makeshift sink, sighing loudly. “She wants to get Martin’s attention, to make him notice her now that he’s home. She doesn’t want him to work after dinner, like he always does.”
    â€œGreat. I love the detail about working after dinner.” I praise her, since she really does know how to get into character. “And what are your character’s objectives here, Mica?”
    He glances at Clayton, who shrugs. “Uh, I’m not sure,” he finally says.
    Sonata folds her arms, frowning. “Martin wants to—”
    â€œLet Mica do it,” I interrupt. Spots of color appear on her cheeks. I turn to him. “Okay, Mica. Let me say it this way. What does your character want at this moment in the play?”
    â€œUh”—he examines the stage lights—“to understand?”
    George gives him a thumbs-up.
    â€œGood.” I nod. “Can you get more specific? To