The Show Must Go On! by P.J. Night Page B

IT.)
    CARRIE: Look!
    (ALL HEADS TURN TOWARD THE WINDOW, BUT WHEN THE LIGHTNING ILLUMINATES THE OUTSIDE, THERE IS NO FACE AT THE WINDOW.)
    RACHEL: So now you’re seeing things?
    CARRIE: Seeing things? You all saw the hairbrush and the mirror, right? And I saw her face.
    LAURA: The ghost.
    CARRIE: Yes, the gh—
    (THERE ARE TAPPING SOUNDS AGAIN AT THE WINDOW. THIS TIME THEY ARE EVEN LOUDER AND MORE URGENT. EVERYONE TURNS BACK TO THE WINDOW. THERE, STARING IN AT THEM FROM OUTSIDE, IS THE GHOST.)
    EVERYONE: YIIEEE!
    (THE GIRLS ALL SCREAM AND RUSH TO THE SIDE OF CARRIE’S BEDROOM OPPOSITE THE WINDOW, TRYING TO GETAS FAR AWAY AS THEY CAN FROM IT. CARRIE’S BLACK CAT ARCHES ITS BACK AND HISSES.)
    RACHEL: Who could it be? How did she get up here?
    CARRIE: Either someone is pulling a prank . . .
    RACHEL: Or?
    CARRIE: Or it’s the ghost of the girl who used to live in this house, trying to come to our sleepover!
    â€œAnd fade the lights to black,” Ms. Hollows said. “Excellent, girls. Gather around for notes. Can we have our ghost out onstage, please?”
    Tiffany came walking out from backstage, still wearing her scary pale mask with black, soulless eyes. She joined the others at center stage.
    â€œNice job, Tiffany,” Melissa said as Tiffany sat down beside her. “But next time you should try the scene with the mask on .”
    â€œVery funny,” Tiffany replied, pulling off the mask and scowling. “Maybe you should be in a comedy instead of a scary play.”
    â€œThe ghost is an important character,” Bree said.
    â€œDon’t placate me, Gabrielle ,” Tiffany shot back. “I know exactly what my role is in this production. I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your pitiful attempts to try to make me feel better.”
    Bree turned away. She had tried being friendly to Tiffany at every rehearsal, even though it seemed at times as if Tiffany was trying to scare her into leaving the show. But enough was enough. She didn’t like Tiffany. She didn’t have to be her friend. She didn’t have to make her feel better. She just had to work with her in the play.
    Ms. Hollows gave the cast their notes. She was very pleased with how the play was taking shape, but there were always things that needed to be tightened up and fine-tuned so that the play would go off without a hitch when it was performed in front of an audience.
    Following notes, Ms. Hollows dismissed the cast.
    â€œI think Tiffany makes a great ghost, don’t you?” Melissa asked Bree as the two left the school building.
    â€œWhy does she have to be so snotty all the time, Lis?”
    â€œHey, it just wouldn’t be Tiffany without the attitude,now would it? Forget about her. With any luck, that mask will get stuck to her face and we won’t have to listen to her whine anymore. See ya tomorrow, Bree. Gotta run.”
    â€œSee ya.”

    Arriving at home, Bree found a note from her parents:
    Out getting groceries with Megan. We’ll be back in time for dinner. Snacks in the fridge.
    Love, M & D
    She threw open the refrigerator door and pulled out a plate filled with cut-up pieces of fruit and a few cookies, then headed for the stairs leading up to her bedroom.
    Suddenly all the lights in the house began to flicker on and off.
    What’s going on? she wondered, pausing at the bottom of the staircase.
    Again the lights flickered on and off. Then they went off and stayed off.
    Placing the plate of snacks on a small table in the hallway, Bree opened a drawer on the front of the table and pulled out a flashlight. Her family kept flashlights handy in case of power outages. But this was different.
    She noticed that although every light in the house seemed to be out, they hadn’t actually lost power. Digital clocks on the front of the coffeemaker in the kitchen and the DVR in the living room still glowed with the correct time. Only the lights seemed to be