The Love Curse of Melody McIntyre

I put the house lights up, and Dom shuts his laptop. He keeps giving me sympathetic looks, silently gesturing for me to come with him to meet the others backstage, but I can’t deal with sympathy. I don’t deserve it. I wave him on without me.

Alone in the booth, I pull off my headset, yank my hair loose from its messy ponytail, and shut my eyes.

Our theater’s cursed. That’s the rumor, anyway. Strange things have been happening here for years. Unexplainable things.

I’ve never been sure I really believed it. I enforce the rules that are supposed to keep us safe, of course—but that’s my job. I’m the stage manager, and this is my theater. Here, I’m the one in control.

After tonight, though, I can’t help wondering if I’ve got that right. Maybe there’s more going on here than I realized.

Maybe I’m not the only one in control.

Beaconville Theater History

Stored on BHS performing arts department shared drive

Created by: Billy Yang, stage manager, class of 2007

Viewable to: All cast, crew, and directors

Editable by: Current SM ONLY

Inferno Horror

Hundreds Injured in Beaconville Theater Fire

Beaconville, Apr. 13, 1906—The Beaconville Theater was the scene of a terrible fire Friday evening. Police confirmed that over two hundred were injured. Fire escapes were not in position at the building, according to police, and most victims were trapped inside when the staircases became jammed.

The fire began during a performance of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. The leading lady had just begun to perform a scene at stage left when audience members noticed her staring into a corner of the curtain above the stage. Moments later, the blaze became apparent to the audience, and the actress turned to the crowd and called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, please stay calm.”

She lifted her arms as though to say more, but before the crowd heard anything further, a piece of burning wood fell from above and knocked her to the ground.

The theater burned to the ground overnight, leaving nothing behind but ashes.

—Screenshot from the Library of Congress website. Article originally appeared in the Beaconville Journal

Scene 2—Stage, Beaconville High School Theater

DAYS UNTIL SPRING MUSICAL OPENS: 164

“It was the curse.” From her perch up on the step ladder, Jasmin aims the power drill at the top of the scaffold and unscrews the beam in three easy, practiced motions, passing it down to where Dom’s waiting below. “It’s the only explanation.”

“I don’t know how you can be so sure.” Dom stacks the beam gently on the wheeled dolly. We need to save this wood for a future show. Hopefully the spring musical, if the teachers picked one that’ll give us an excuse to build something cool. “I don’t know how much time you’ve spent on YouTube, but things go wrong in theater a lot. One school did West Side Story and forgot the gun for the finale. Chino had to throw a shoe at Tony.”

“Things go wrong here more than they do anywhere else. Something’s up, and it could ruin the musical.” Fatima carefully wraps a light cable around the fixture on the pipe, then holds out her wrench so Gabby can loosen the C-clamp. The two of them are sitting on the edge of the stage striking the electrics on the pipe we flew in from overhead. It’s the first time Gabby’s gotten to work with actual tools, and she’s grinning like the true theater dork she’s turned out to be.

Gabby’s a freshman, and back in September, she thought she wanted to be an actor. She auditioned for Romeo and Juliet but didn’t get a speaking part, and when Ms. Marcus saw how disappointed she was, she suggested Gabby come on as my assistant stage manager instead. She turned out to be fantastic at it—she’s super organized and responsible, and she’s up for anything, from sweeping the stage to calming Malik down when he freaks out and forgets half the Queen Mab speech. We’ve all been trying to teach her stuff, the way the older crew members taught us when we were freshmen, and today Fatima volunteered to do the lights with her, since that’s a pretty easy job for a newbie.

The whole cast and crew are required to help on strike day, but we give the cast a call time that’s thirty minutes later than ours so we can do all the fun power-tool stuff without them getting in the way. Then we give the actors easy, boring jobs, like folding costumes and counting props.

“Are we positive the musical’s not Phantom?” Dom asks as Jasmin hands him another beam.

“We are.” I wheel in a new dolly from the wings. The one Dom’s loading is almost full. “Whoever at the district office was in charge of getting the performance rights failed utterly, so my money’s on Into the Woods or Sweeney Todd. Ms. Marcus is obsessed with Sondheim.”

“Who isn’t?” Gabby grins up at me.

“Hey.” Fatima elbows her, gently but firmly. “Focus. Lights.”

“Sorry.” Gabby turns hurriedly back to her C-clamp.

“Where’s Ms. Marcus now?” Jasmin asks as she unscrews the last beam.

“In the shop with Mr. Green. She said they’d be back once the cast gets here so they can announce the musical to all of us at once.”

“Perfect.” Jasmin passes the beam to Dom and dusts off her hands. “Because, Mel . . . there’s something we need to talk about first.”

A weird silence falls on the stage. The rest of the crew is still wrapping cords and unscrewing furniture and sorting scraps, but no one reacts to what Jasmin said. I’m the only one who even seems surprised she said it.

Uh-oh. That’s . . . not a good sign. I raise a quizzical eyebrow, but Jasmin holds my gaze without giving anything away.

This doesn’t make sense. Jasmin’s my closest friend, after Dom, and we tell each other everything. We sign up to work as partners on every class project, so she spends a lot of time at my house, and she eats dinner with us so often my dads always joke about putting out a plate for her even when she isn’t there, just in case.

It’s extremely unlike her to talk to the others behind my back.

“Um.” I force a laugh. “This sounds ominous.”

“Yeah . . .” Dom scratches the back of his neck, his eyebrow quirking under his scruffy dirty-blond hair. “Pretty sure you’re only supposed to say we need to talk if you’re breaking up with someone, Jazz.”

But his laugh sounds just as forced as mine, and I strongly suspect he already knows what Jasmin’s going to say. The others, too.

The crew’s been talking about me. That much is clear. This is either an intervention or a mutiny.

Stage Manager Calm. Stage Manager Calm.

“It’s about the superstition for the spring musical.” Jasmin climbs down from the ladder and reaches into the wing for her messenger bag.

“Oh, okay.” I sigh in relief.

We usually pick the superstition for the next show during strike on the show before it. During Joseph strike, we realized nine different people had gotten hit by swinging doors in rehearsals, resulting in at least two near-collisions and one emergency orthodontist appointment, so for R&J, the rule was that everyone on the cast and crew had to knock twice before they could come into the auditorium. It seemed simple enough, until Dad begged me to give him earplugs for the days he came in to help with set construction because all that knocking made his teeth hurt. Dad’s sensitive, auditorily.

Jasmin pulls out her phone, taps the screen a few times, and passes it to me. “We’ve done some analysis, and we have a proposal.”

I take the phone, trying to keep a relaxed smile on my face. Jasmin’s pulled up a note titled “Things That Went Wrong on R&J.” I scroll down the list, but it’s nothing I don’t already know—Liam’s doublet tore, a backdrop fell even though it should’ve been secure in the fly system, a sword kept breaking, the bottle of fake poison kept spilling even though Estaban triple-checked every night that it was sealed, Beth got scarlet fever even though we’d all thought that had been eradicated in the nineteenth century and barely recovered in time for tech, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. And, of course, the lights went screwy during the balcony scene on opening night.

I turn my hands down on my knees so my friends won’t notice that reading that last bullet made my palms break out in sweat. I’ve been trying not to think about what happened with Rachel, but it’s been impossible. We both had to show up at the theater for every performance after opening. She’s here today, too, but she’s back in the costume room, sorting clothes and probably thinking about what a horrible person I am.

I can’t remember how long the despair lasted after my last breakup. It’s all a blur, and I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. The only thing I know for sure is that this breakup is significantly worse.

The whole time Rachel and I were going out, I honestly thought I was doing everything right. Until she walked into the booth, held up a metaphorical mirror, and showed me, for the first time in my life, what I’m really like.

Selfish. Bossy. Inconsiderate. . . .

“Thanks, this is really helpful.” I nod toward Jasmin’s phone, trying my hardest to act unfazed. “When you put it all in a list like that, you can see what a miracle it is we made it to strike without anyone dying. Ha. Send the list to me and I’ll put it on the shared drive, okay?”

“That isn’t all.” Jasmin sits down next to me on the stage. Fatima, Estaban, and Bryce glance at each other and come over quietly to sit beside her.

It’s obvious they planned this. The four of them are crew heads, just one tier down from me in the tech hierarchy. They have a lot of power, and the team is used to listening to them.

Dom and Shannon are still hanging back, though, and since they’re also crew heads, that’s comforting.

“We thought back over the last couple of years, and we noticed a correlation.” Estaban points at Jasmin’s phone. “More things tend to go wrong on shows when, uh . . .”

“When you’re not single,” Jasmin finishes for him, still looking right at me.

I wait to see if this is a joke, but no one laughs. Not even Dom.

Jasmin starts ticking things off on her fingers. “All the worst things that’ve happened have been when you were in a relationship, Mel. Like when that red dye bled into all the white costumes in the laundry during Joseph, and the time half the Fiddler cast got mono—”

“It wasn’t half the cast, it was, like, three people!” I gape at her, but she still isn’t laughing. “And—what are you saying, exactly? That I screw up more when I’m dating someone?”

“It’s not about you screwing up.” Jasmin shakes her head. “Everybody screws up. Besides, a lot of the bad stuff didn’t have anything to do with you, not directly. Which means it’s got to be the curse.”

“Wait.” I gaze back and forth between the four of them. They’re all nodding. “You think the theater curse is triggered by me dating someone?”

“We just think it’s a possibility.” Fatima holds out her hands palms up. She’s still holding the wrench. “It’s a theory worth testing. Especially with the musical coming up.”

“It’s a theory that makes no sense at all.” Dom finally comes over to join the rest of us, sitting down on the stage and sighing. At least someone’s speaking up for me. “We already start a new superstition for every show, and we’ve been following them. Ever since she got named SM, Mel’s made everyone who broke a rule do a countercurse within seconds and things still go wrong.”

“So this should be the new superstition for the musical, then. If it doesn’t work, it’ll prove we were wrong.” Jasmin shrugs. She sounds so reasonable I can barely think of a way to argue. “If Mel stays single until the cast party and the show still has a million problems, we’ll know it doesn’t matter if she’s with someone or not. But if it works . . .”

“Then what, we force our stage manager to take a vow of chastity until she graduates?” Dom shakes his head. “How would you like to live under that rule?”

“We’re not the ones whose relationship drama messed up a performance.” Jasmin glances over at Gabby, as if she’s looking for backup. Gabby turns to me, her lips pressed together uncertainly.

“Okay, but Mel is, like, this school’s patron saint of serial monogamy.” Dom holds out his hands and ignores the other crew members’ chuckles, even though it’s clear from the way he’s smirking that he’s proud of that witticism. Though I’m not sure how I feel about that title. “She likes going out with people. Which, let’s be honest, is true for most of us. This doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well,” I start in, “it’s not like I have to be dating someone in order to survive.”

Jasmin gives me a pleading look, the beads in her box braids clicking together as she shakes her head. “I know. Mel, I’m sorry, it’s really nothing personal. It’s just—the musical could be a disaster if we don’t take drastic measures.”

I nod. I get it. I know Jasmin well enough to know she wouldn’t do this if she didn’t think it was important.

“We agonized about whether to even bring this up.” Fatima sits forward anxiously, laying her hand on my forearm.

They’re sincere, that much is evident. They really do think my love life has been screwing us over.

I don’t know . . . maybe they’re right. My relationships during shows have a definite tendency toward drama. This is the first time I’ve broken up with someone during an actual performance, but it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Besides, after what happened with Rachel, I’m willing to try anything. And it’s not as if I want to date anyone—I’m brokenhearted. Plus, if our theater really is cursed, maybe this will solve it. Who knows?

I’d do anything to make the spring musical go perfectly. It’s my junior year, the time when colleges pay the most attention to your extracurricular record, and pulling off a stellar musical would be huge for me. For the rest of the crew, too.

“Wait a second.” Gabby raises her hand. “I don’t get how this works. Is it just that Mel’s not allowed to date anyone? What if she only hooks up with somebody one time? How particular is this rule, exactly?”

Estaban laughs, and some of the freshmen and sophomores do, too, but I can’t help smiling at Gabby’s thoroughness. It’s exactly the kind of question a good stage manager should ask.

“Valid point,” I say. “Are we playing by Disney rules here? Is a kiss enough to activate the curse?”

“Only if it’s the kiss of true love.” Shannon makes her voice high-pitched and squeaky from center stage, where she’s unscrewing the legs from a prop chair. “Is that from Snow White or Sleeping Beauty?”

“Shrek, actually, I think.” I smile at her, and the others laugh. “But yeah, it would probably have to be something more intense to get a curse’s attention.”

“Something like falling in love.” Jasmin nods. “That seems logical. You can flirt with people or whatever, but no getting in deep.”

“Until the musical closes,” Fatima adds. “So for now, just, you know . . .”

“Keep it in your pants?” Estaban suggests, and everyone laughs again.

“No problem.” I smile. If I act like I’m entertained by this whole thing, maybe it’ll start to seem funny. Maybe I’ll forget that I was deeply in love until three days ago. “Once the musical starts, I won’t have time for love anyway.”

“Give yourself a little more credit, Mel.” Shannon laughs. “You fall in love more easily than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Ha,” I say, because the others are laughing.

But . . . is that true?

I shrug it off. It doesn’t matter now. Besides, the others are starting to nod along. Even the junior crew members who’d been quiet until now.

I guess that means they all believe it, and once the whole crew believes something, it has to be true, or the glue that holds us together as a team will fall apart.

All right. So be it. If I fall in love, the musical’s doomed.

“Mel?” Jasmin points to the phone sticking out of my pocket. “Will you put the new superstition on the shared drive?”

I nod, slowly. “Yeah. As soon as Ms. Marcus announces what the musical is. But, um . . . I’d just as soon not tell the actors, if that’s okay.”

Everyone nods immediately.

“Hell, no,” Jasmin says. “The last thing we need is them getting another excuse to think every problem is the crew’s fault. We’ll come up with a decoy superstition for them.”

Dom raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this, Mel? You don’t have to—”

I nod. A good leader is decisive, and a good leader listens to her team.

Besides, my heart is currently shattered in a million pieces. There’s no way I could put it back together in time to fall in love before the musical opens.

Dom sighs, then glances at his watch. “Okay. Should we go clean out the booth while we’re waiting for the cast?”

And not have all these eyes on me anymore? Heck yeah.

I stand up. “Let’s go.”

Beaconville Theater History

Stored on BHS performing arts department shared drive

Created by: Billy Yang, stage manager, class of 2007

Viewable to: All cast, crew, and directors

Editable by: Current SM ONLY

New Beaconville High School Performing Arts Wing to Open

Students at Beaconville High were thrilled on Wednesday when they were given their first opportunity to tour the new performing arts wing on their campus.

“This is awesome!” senior stage manager Billy Yang told the News reporter who joined their tour. “Look at that fly system! And the booth equipment is a thousand times better than what we’ve been using in the old auditorium. I can’t wait to do our first show here!”

BHS is renowned for its theater program. Student productions have won statewide awards, and some of the program’s alumni have gone on to careers in the performing arts, both as actors and in behind-the-scenes roles.

The new performing arts wing was made possible due to a budget enhancement and gifts from a large number of alumni. It includes a state-of-the-art, 1,200-person-capacity theater; a black box theater for more intimate performances, which will also double as classroom space for the performing arts department; a “scene shop” with tools for constructing sets and props; a dance studio; and a choir room.

Local historians have noted that the new performing arts wing stands directly on the grounds of the former Beaconville Theater, which was destroyed by a tragic fire in 1906 and later was found to have violated building codes. The land had been the property of the city of Beaconville and was vacant before being annexed by the adjacent high school last year.

“We don’t see the location of the new performing arts wing as disrespectful in the least,” school superintendent Evan Newton told the News. “In fact, we’ve set up a memorial to those injured in the 1906 fire. There’s a plaque in the lobby of the new building’s auditorium. It’s very tasteful.”

Students and faculty seem to feel the same way. In memory of the tragic fire, they’ve decided that their inaugural performance in the new auditorium will be the same play the Beaconville Theater company was performing that night—Macbeth.

—From the Beaconville Neighborhood News, January 3, 2007

Scene 3—Tech Booth, Beaconville High School Theater

DAYS UNTIL SPRING MUSICAL OPENS: 164

Dom and I climb the steps through the theater until we reach the wide, empty tech booth at the back.

The booth is my favorite place in the entire performing arts wing. Maybe the entire world. I’m effectively trapped in here from tech week through closing on every show we do, but that’s okay. This is a sacred space.

Right now, though, all I want is to collapse into a sacred beanbag chair and crack open a sacred Diet Coke—but that’s not an option during strike. We have too much to do. Besides, the actors are due soon, and if we’re not on the stage when they get here, we might miss the announcement of what the musical’s going to be. At this point, I honestly think I’d cry.

“You’re really sure about this?” Dom asks, rooting around in the papers stacked on the desk. “You know, the whole love curse thing?”

I laugh. It sounds funny when he puts it that way. “I mean, I’m not sure about anything, but it’s obvious they are, and that’s what superstitions are really about—team unity.”

“Unity’s great and all, but . . .”

“Besides, being single for a while sounds amazing.” I reach up, fully intending to grab a bottle of spray cleaner from the shelf, but I find myself tipping forward and collapsing into a beanbag instead. “It’s not like anybody’d want to go out with me after what Rachel said anyway.”

I shut my eyes. I hadn’t meant to say that last part.

“Mel.” There’s a crush of polystyrene to my left. I open my eyes to see Dom in the beanbag chair next to mine. “No one believes that stuff. I like Rachel, or at least I used to, but what she said that night? It was total crap. No one really thinks you’re like that.”

“Dom. You just called me the patron saint of serial monogamy.”

“I was being ironic.” He sighs. “Look, for what it’s worth, I heard Rachel feels really bad about what happened. Estaban said she was crying in the costume closet when he went in to grab gaff tape.”

“Great.” I scrub my face with my hands. “It’s just—why do all my relationships have to end in giant disasters? Epic scenes, my own crew rising up against me . . . what am I doing wrong?”

Dom stretches his arms over his head, chuckling. “Well, speaking from personal experience . . .”

I roll my eyes. “Please don’t.”

“I’m just saying, they don’t all end that way. When we broke up during Fiddler rehearsals, it was really chill.”

“I know, but A, that was ninth grade, and B, you were the exception, not the rule. Most of my breakups don’t result in me getting a new best friend, they result in major suffering. Look . . .” I meet his eyes so he’ll see I’m serious. “For real. I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Yeah, there is. You got named SM and became an obsessive-yet-beloved dictator, exactly like every other SM before you.”

“You’re the worst best friend ever.”

“Hey, I try. Also . . . okay, look, there’s something I’ve got to tell you, and it isn’t exactly going to change your perspective on that front, so . . .”

I sit up abruptly, which is hard to do in a beanbag. “Is it about this love curse thing?”

“Uh . . .” He shakes his head. “From your point of view, it’s probably worse.”

I look over my shoulder. “Is someone else coming in here to dump me?”

“There’s just something I’ve been thinking lately.” He scratches the back of his neck.

I honestly have no idea where Dom’s going with this, but he’s making me super nervous. “Spit it out.”

“Well . . . when it comes time for the spring musical . . .” He turns to stare down at the patches on his jeans. His next words come in a rush. “IthinkIwannaaudition.”

It takes me several seconds to decipher that. When I finally piece it together, I can only pray I heard it wrong. “What?”

He glances up, smiling sheepishly.

“Dom.” I glare. He looks off to one side with a distinct combination of guilt and excitement on his face. The last time I saw him make that expression was right after he told me he was going to homecoming with my ex-girlfriend. “You want to be an actor?”

“I . . .”

“Tell me you’re kidding.”