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Tean nodded. His dark eyes looked miserable behind the glasses. “I think you’re making a mistake. You barely slept, and you’ve been through a lot today. I think your judgment might be impaired.”
“I appreciate you saying that,” Theo said.
“That’s how smart people say fuck off,” Jem said and shook his bowl of popcorn.
Theo shot him a look, and he was distantly aware that Tean was sending some not-so-happy energy toward his husband as well.
“Is that a pistol in your pocket,” Jem said with a smirk, “or are you just happy to see me?”
“I assume you’re going to call John-Henry and tell him what we’re doing,” Theo said as he tugged at his oversized t-shirt, trying to hide the outline of the gun.
“I think he needs to know,” Tean said quietly.
Theo nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Tean said.
“Don’t apologize,” Jem said. “Think about this great house we’re going to get.”
Theo opened his mouth, but Auggie caught his arm and nodded toward the door.
“Call us,” Auggie said, “if you need us.”
“Could you pick up some more beer?” Jem called after them. “Maybe something Mexican?”
“He’s doing that to annoy you,” Auggie whispered as he continued to nudge Theo down the hall.
“Great. He’s doing a great fucking job.”
Outside, the night had cooled—relatively speaking, anyway. The air was still thick, but not oppressively so. The porch light hung in a hazy ring of humidity. They made their way to the Audi, and Auggie got behind the wheel.
“The community theater,” Theo said.
Auggie made a noise like something had clicked, and they drove. Wahredua was a quiet town, with the notable exception of the area around the college. The clock on the dash was nearing eleven, and the streets were empty under the wash of streetlights. They passed Sunburst Laundry, the windows soaped with the design of a rising sun. They passed Wildcat Outfitters, where an animated bullseye winked at them from the sign—each ring illuminating in turn until the bullseye was visible, which then proceeded to flash at them before going dark again. They passed a lonely cinderblock storefront that had been empty as long as Theo could remember, with the words REPLAY COMPUTERS on a faded sign above the door.
The community theater was an uninspiring brown building with hardboard siding and a flat roof, and it looked like something a bureaucrat had dreamed up—hell, probably a committee had been involved. A dozen cars were still in the parking lot when they arrived, and although most of the building was dark, Theo could see lights on deeper in the building. They left the Audi and tried the front doors, which were locked.
“Want me to try calling?” Auggie asked, already pulling out his phone.
Theo shook his head and led the way around the side of the building. He had been to enough plays here—on his own, with Auggie, and with students—to know the layout of the building. They followed a sidewalk past more of the darkened windows, and then a ramp led down to an exit-only door propped open with a brick, because in the past, Theo guessed, one too many actors had been locked out after a smoke break. A wedge of light from inside forced back the darkness. Voices spilled out, and then a burst of music, and then laughter.
When Theo stepped inside, they stood backstage. The set showed a Depression-era apartment building with a Juliet balcony. A woman and a man leaned against the railing, kissing.
“No, no, no!” Theo recognized Dalton Weber’s voice. The drama teacher appeared a moment later, climbing onto the stage. He looked a little less like Pat Sajak right then—bags under his eyes, the suggestion of a squint, what looked like dust tracked across his button-up. Waving a rolled-up sheaf of papers toward the balcony, he shouted, “She has her back to the audience, her back. Your ass! Is that easier to understand?”
The woman on the balcony huffed and squirmed a little more.
“Your ass!” Dalton had clearly come from the playing-to-the-back-row school of acting. “Your fat ass!”
“This window is the size of a Kleenex box!” the woman shouted back at him. “We won’t both fit!”
Dalton looked like he was going to respond to this, but at the same moment, a waifish boy pranced up to him. The boy looked like eighteen going on thirteen, with flaxen hair and a creamy complexion, and for a moment, Theo thought it was Leon Purdue. But after that first impression, he could see the differences: not the same face, not at all, but a look. And then he thought, A type.
The boy whispered something to Dalton, and Dalton rolled his eyes—playing to the back row again. He touched the boy’s arm. The boy giggled, but he didn’t pull away. Dalton said something else, and the boy nodded and hurried off.
“Take five,” Dalton announced. And then, pitching the words up to the couple on the balcony, he snapped, “Figure it out!”
Dalton headed toward the opposite end of the stage, and Theo started after him. Auggie walked at his side, glancing at the set.
