Page 33 of Specters & Spotlights

The ghost walked on, mumbling to himself, anxiety carved deep into the furrows of his brow. Elise was starting to think maybe this wasn’t going to work after all—when suddenly, he stopped.

Right in front of her.

He turned.

Looked at her.

Elise froze. She hadn’t planned for this part.

For a split second, she wished Cici were here. She would know the perfect thing to say, the perfect way to say it.

She scrambled for something—anything. “Good luck,” nearly slipped out, but she caught it just in time.

Another theatre superstition. Never say “good luck” in a theatre.

Instead, she squared her shoulders, and forced her voice to steady.

“Break a leg tonight.”

The ghost blinked. Then nodded once—sharp, decisive—and resumed pacing. But his stride was smoother now. Less frantic. The muttering had stopped.

“I think that did something,” she whispered.

Nick clapped like he’d just witnessed a magic trick. “I love ghost stuff. I feel like I should tip you.”

Elise only smiled and texted Cici again.

I did the thing. He looked at me. Calmed down. I think it helped??

I told him to break a leg.

Thank you, love you

Cici replied seconds later.

Cici

obviously.

Personally, I would have told him to project and enunciate

But yours was better. (duh) and I love you too

Elise bent over her station during the second show of the day, amidst the swirl of people and chaos. She was smoothing a line of flyaways from a stubborn updo when she glanced up and found Graham across the hallway, half-shadowed, like he was on his way somewhere and got waylaid by a surprising thought. He wasn’t staring, exactly—but he wasn’t not either. Just watching. Like he was trying to memorize the scene without knowing why.

He adjusted his cuff, turned, and walked away without a word.

Elise turned back to her work, realizing she had lost herself for a moment. She reached instinctively for a pin, only to find it already in her palm.

Nick was there, calm and quiet behind her, holding out a second just in case.

She blinked. “Thanks.”

He smiled and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, like he’d always been there. No flourish. No joke. Just... presence. He lingered a moment longer, then slipped away with a small, mock-salute when his cue called him to the wings.

Not long after, Elise could hear it when the sound board hiccupped during “At the Ball (Reprise)”—a half-second delay that would’ve thrown lesser actors.

Talia had apparently barely blinked. She twirled with an exaggerated flourish, looping the pause into her choreography like it had always belonged.