This is Danyella’s hard work, my hard work, the work of dozens of students and staff. Dreams, that’s what this production is, a collection of dreams.
“Maybe I should do it?” Chasm asks from behind me as we enter the room and I stand there, staring at the sea of furniture, the stack of backdrops against the wall, and the boxes full of props. Some of these things, I helped make. Some of them I painted while listening to Danyella talk. Some of them were donated.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I just can’t. How can I go through with this and look Danyella in the face ever again? How?
“No,” I say, my voice firm, maybe even a little scary. If someone has to have blood on their hands, it may as well be me. If Parrish’s captor really is my father, then this isn’t Chasm’s responsibility. And it isn’t Parrish’s. It’s mine. “Stand back.”
I unscrew the can’s cap before handing it over to him. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, and I try to remember the look on Parrish’s face, the blazing fire in his eyes, the almost eerie calmness of his voice. He doesn’t want me to do this. Maybe doesn’t think that I can. But I will.
Justin keeps his promises, does he? Well, good for him. So do I.
The acrid smell of the gasoline burns my nose as I splash it over a pair of beds intended for Elphaba and Glinda to lounge on while they sing Popular. Guess that isn’t happening. I’m crying as I do it, pouring gas all over my friend’s dreams, destroying hours upon hours upon hours of work.
With a whimper, I pull the lighter from my pocket, bend down, and flick the wheel. The trail of gas goes up in an instant, and then Chasm is pulling me up and grabbing me by the hand. He leads me out of the theater and, on my way out, I pause and look around before lifting up the glass cover of the fire alarm.
With a deep breath, I reach out and pull it.
News of the fire reaches us quickly. It’s everywhere, splashed across social media, highlighted in mainstream news, and most importantly, texted to me via Danyella.
It’s over. It’s all over. That’s what she says. I’m standing in the shower, leaning against the wall with one shoulder and staring at my phone screen. Little droplets of water splash across the surface, but I ignore them. It’s waterproof anyway and also, I just don’t care. What I do care about is Danyella. Parrish. Chasm.
I step out of the shower and throw the phone on the counter while I dry off. I’m not ready to message Danyella back, not yet. First, I need to clean up and make sure there’s zero evidence of what I’ve done. The horrible, horrible thing that I’ve done.
“Some people are starting to suspect Parrish of setting the fire,” Chasm tells me when I step out of the bathroom in one of the fancy robes that Tess bought for me. He’s wearing a robe, too, which is interesting. It must be Parrish’s though I’ve never seen him in it.
“Good. Maybe they’ll look a little harder for him?” I sit down beside Chas with a long sigh, my phone hanging heavy in the robe’s pocket. It weighs as much as the burden that’s sitting pretty on my shoulders, like a stone gargoyle perched atop my head, watching everything that I do.
I lie back on the bed, my eyes catching on the vase of sunflowers that are still resting on my nightstand. They’re still fresh, still very much alive, but given time, they’ll slowly wilt. They’ll die.
It’s a macabre metaphor that I refuse to think too much about.
“Hey Chas,” I start, but he’s already several steps ahead of me, rising to his feet and moving over to the framed family portrait I hung on the wall.
“Don’t,” he warns me, glancing over his shoulder with a deep-set frown. “I don’t want to talk about the flowers; they aren’t a big deal anyway.” He looks back at the picture as I sit up, digging my fingers into the edge of the bed as I study him. Teenage guys just don’t randomly give flowers to their best friend’s ‘little sister’ for no reason at all.
“We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to, but … I’m not going to forget that you gave them to me.”
“Who says they’re from me at all?” he queries back, but he’s already shown his cards. It’s too late. “Anyway, don’t look too much into it. I just happened to see them on my way over here and figured what the hell.”
“That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard in my life. If you don’t want to tell me why you brought me flowers, don’t. Just say that. You don’t have to lie.” I watch as Chasm’s back tenses beneath the robe and he turns slowly to look at me; the expression on his face says everything.
