The Dramatic Life of Azaleah Lane

For a while, things went fine. But then, during the Oompa Loompa song, everything started going wrong.
First, something happened with the microphones the actors had on their shirts. One microphone turned off. Then another. And then another.
The song got quieter and quieter. Soon all seven microphones were off. The Oompa Loompas were dancing and singing, but I could barely hear them.
Mr. Guidi yelled, “Cut!”
Mike ran out from backstage. “I’ll go check the connection,” he said. Then he disappeared.
At the end of our row, Owen giggled-again. It was like he wanted the show to be bad.
Onstage, Nia crossed her arms. I watched her chest go up and down. I could tell she was taking deep breaths.
When Mike came back out, he looked confused. “The cord fell out of the plug somehow. It should be fine now.”
The rehearsal started again. But a few minutes later, the wooden petals fell off one of the fake flowers in the garden.
The petals made loud bangs! when they landed on the ground. The Oompa Loompas kept tripping over petals and kicking them. They were sliding all over the stage. Nia had to keep looking down so she didn’t step on the kids or the petals.
“Keep going!” yelled Mr. Guidi. “We don’t have time to fix them right now.”
If there really is a ghost of Thespis, he sure is busy, I thought.
Owen laughed again, but this time Mr. Guidi heard him.
“That’s enough, Owen,” he snapped.
Owen stopped laughing right away. I smiled. I was glad Mr. Guidi had finally caught him.
The crew picked up the petals, but then the string that opened and closed the curtains broke. Mr. Guidi had to stop everything so the crew could tie the ends together.
A few minutes later, the bubble machine that was supposed to blow bubbles on the stage ran out of bubble soap. They had to stop to refill it. When they started again, Nia messed up her lines.
The rehearsal wasn’t going well at all. The only good thing was that Owen wasn’t laughing anymore.
Every time something went wrong, I thought about the ghost of Thespis. I didn’t think a ghost could ruin a whole rehearsal. But it seemed like a lot of bad luck for one show. Something strange was going on.
Finally, the rehearsal was over. Mr. Guidi said loudly, “Everyone, gather around, please.”
He motioned to the teenager I’d seen sitting a few rows back. The boy came forward and joined the cast. He had a tiny recorder in one hand and a notebook in the other.
“This is Chris,” said Mr. Guidi. “He’s a reporter for the high school newspaper. He’s hoping to write a good story about the musical.”
Nia’s eyes got big. Some of the actors smiled at Chris.
A reporter? I thought. No wonder he seemed like he was paying attention to everything.
Mr. Guidi kept talking. “I’ve given him a backstage tour and time to explore. He has full permission to be anywhere in the theater. Chris will be at the dress rehearsal tomorrow and the show on Sunday.”
I knew all about dress rehearsals because Nia had been in so many shows. It was the last chance to get things right. It was supposed to be as good as the real show, even though there was no audience.
At dress rehearsals, all the actors wore their costumes and stage makeup. They didn’t stop to fix things, even if something went wrong. Nia always said, “The show must go on.”
Mr. Guidi looked at all the actors. “We have a lot of work to do if we want a flawless production and a good review,” he said.
I knew what flawless meant. It meant perfect. And one thing was for sure: this show was not perfect.