Chapter Thirty-One
Eliza
“The good die young but not always. The wicked prevail but not consistently. I am confused by life, and I feel safe within the confines of the theater.”
—Helen Hayes
Ever since Reed walked away from the treehouse, I filled my every spare moment with working at the Lyric. If I buried myself in my cues, busied myself with helping Cara and some of the others with finishing touches on the sets and costumes, I could convince myself it didn’t hurt as much.
And sure, the pain of losing Reed may have lessened, but it didn’t go away.
Like a bad cut trying to heal itself, every time I saw something that reminded me of him—the train station overlooking his cornfields, Jenny’s Diner, or the elementary school where he had pitched to me—the wound opened, bled and stung and ached all over again. No bandage could fix this kind of hurt.
I had walked around the empty fairgrounds, hoping it would give me some kind of symbolic closure, but each passing humid breeze took me back to that smug smile he gave me when I kicked his ass in our basketball shoot-out and the dizziness of our meetup in the house of mirrors.
Even tonight, after I almost tripped on a bucket of rags and turned off the ghost light to work on cues, I swore I saw his shadow move across the stage. Probably just inhaled too many fumes from the latest coat of stain that Mr. Newcomb added this afternoon.
I fixed about thirty cues and set several new ones in the two hours I sat alone in the booth. Reading the script aloud for timing helped with the fade-ins, but it still wasn’t as effective as having someone reading with me.
God, I missed him.
My phone buzzed from the table next to me where the soundboard sat. The thin scar from Reed opened again as I read TJ’s text about how the Fulton Hawks won their game tonight. Reed’s team would be playing ours in the championship next week. A game that would not only change my life but his as well.
If Grandma were faced with the same decision as me, which would she have chosen?
You know which one, Eliza.
As much as she was a family woman, she would have always picked those in need first.
Crap.
The Fultons needed this. They needed it so much more than we did.
I inserted my flash drive into the board and saved my latest batch of cues. A small light flickered near stage left, and then something that sounded like footsteps dragged themselves across the stage.
“Hello?” I called into the darkness.
No answer.
Should’ve kept that ghost light on.
The flash drive stopped blinking, so I removed it and powered down the board. A loud CREAK sounded from below, making me jump out of my chair.
What the hell? “Hello?”
Silence.
There’s no such thing as ghosts. There’s no such thing as ghosts…
My hands shook as I draped the board with its cover.
I grabbed an emergency flashlight from one of the shelves next to me and turned it on. Moving it slowly from stage left to stage right, I yelped and dropped it as soon as the beam illuminated a dark figure and face I knew well.
“Ben?” I called. “What are you doing here?”
He raised a hand above his eyebrows and squinted into the beam of light I’d thrown on his face. “Jusssst want to see wha’ tha’ big deaaaaal is mmhere, Erin.”
Erin? Who’s Erin? “Are you drunk?”
He laughed and stumbled a bit to the side. “Maaaaybe.” A brown paper bag wrapped around some kind of bottle hung loosely at his side before he dropped it onto the stage and put a cigarette to his lips.
“You can’t smoke in here!” I yelled. Smoking hadn’t been allowed in this theater since the ’70s. Not to mention, he was dangerously close to the newly stained sets and the bucket of rags that Mr. Newcomb’s crew forgot to take outside.
A second later, a small spark glowed and lit Ben’s cigarette. But he must’ve burned his finger in the process because he cursed and then tripped over the ghost light cord.
“Watch out!” I moved to turn on the house lights so he could see better, but it was too late.
Ben fell.
The cigarette flew out of his fingers and into the bucket of rags, which exploded, some of the flames leaping onto Ben’s pullover. He jumped up and cried out, waving his arm wildly around as he stumbled backward toward Juliet’s balcony.
Her freshly stained balcony.
“Ben! Stop!” I leaned out of the booth’s window just as his burning sleeve made contact with the set piece. Bright orange flames climbed the terrace, igniting it like a twenty-foot torch. A second later, the flames licked the midcurtain and spread across its valance to the other side of the stage.
Oh my God, oh my God.
Ben ran downstage and leaped off it just as another set piece, the entrance of the tomb, burst into flames.
Why wasn’t the alarm sounding yet?
And why the hell weren’t the sprinklers working?
I backed up but tripped over the dropped flashlight. My shoulder rammed into the door to the booth, shoving it closed. Half of the new ruler I had used to prop it open now lay splintered inside with me.
No!
I scrambled to my feet, the heat from the auditorium fire already burning the back of my neck, and shook the doorknob.
It didn’t budge.
Shit, shit, shit…
Smoke started creeping into the booth. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth and kept yanking the door until my arms went numb.
“Help! Somebody, help me!” My throat tightened and my heart raced as I spun around the room for something, anything, to use to break down the damn door. But everything looked so blurry.
I swallowed a scream and gripped the back of the closest chair for a moment, trying to slow my breathing down, regain my balance, and focus, but it didn’t help.
How long have I already been up here? How long can I last before the smoke becomes too much…or the flames…
Cold tears spilled onto my warm cheeks.
I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t want to—
The fire alarm finally rang throughout the building, and the sprinklers over the auditorium seats sputtered and sprayed. But there weren’t any sprinklers on the stage.
I fumbled with my phone and dialed 911.
The operator picked up on the first ring. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“I…” My hand shook so hard I had to use my other to steady it. “I’m on the second floor of the Lyric Theater in Fairfield. In the light booth. The door is jammed; there’s a fire in here. There’s a lot of smoke…” A coughing fit rattled through my chest. “There’s smoke everywhere. I’m stuck!”
“Okay, honey. Stay on the phone with me while help comes. Have you tried breaking down the door?”
“Of course I have!” I yelled and put the phone on speaker while I tried kicking the jammed thing again. It didn’t budge.
I pounded my fist against the door again and again before sinking to the ground. I couldn’t even cry because it felt like thousands of needles were stabbing my eyes over and over.
A voice called from the end of the hallway. “Eliza? Eliza, are you in there?”
Reed?
“Reed! I’m here!” I jumped to my feet and rattled the knob. “I’m locked in!”
The 911 operator’s voice came through the phone again. “Ma’am? Are you okay? Has help arrived?”
I hung up as Reed tried opening the door. “I’m gonna go grab something. Hold on!”
I didn’t know what he was doing here, but at that moment I didn’t care.
I crouched down on the floor to wait, but an old reflector spotlight pushed into the corner behind the soundboard gave me a better idea.
After yanking some chords out of the wall and scratching my cheek with one of them, I tugged the fixture toward me.
Jesus, this weighs a ton.
I stood and brought the light above my head with shaky hands and slammed it down onto the doorknob, making two of the screws fall to the floor.
Okay. I can do this.
I grunted and lifted the warm metal above my head before yelling, bringing it down with twice as much force on the spot where the doorknob met the frame.
The knob clattered to the ground.
Yes!
I dropped the light and flung open the door. Reed stood there with a metal stanchion from the lobby held above his head, his mouth opened in shock.
“You’re here,” I said before I had a coughing fit.
He dropped the stanchion and stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around me and resting his chin on the top of my head. “Thank God you’re okay.”
Something crashed from below in the auditorium, and Reed pulled away.
“We gotta get out of here.” He tugged my arm and pulled me down the hallway and then the stairs as they filled with smoke mixed with the warm sprays of the sprinkler water.
What felt like only seconds later, I collapsed onto the grass near the sidewalk outside of the Lyric, coughing so hard I wasn’t sure I could stop.
Reed ran his hands over my arms and legs before lightly touching my cheek. I winced at the sharp sting.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, panting, his eyes frantic.
I shook my head and pressed my hand against my chest. God, my lungs felt thinner than tissue paper. “Ben…Ben’s in there,” I gasped.
“Ben?” Reed coughed into his elbow. “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
Reed stared at the burning building for a moment and then pressed his forehead against mine. “Stay safe,” he whispered.
And before I could stop him, he sprinted back into the building just as the fire trucks and a police car pulled up.
“Reed, no!” I crawled toward the building as he disappeared into the smoke-filled doorway, the windows of the main floor now glowing with fire.
Come back, come back, come back.
A fireman hurried over to me, but I pointed toward the theater. “There are two boys in there. Hurry!”
The fireman spoke into a radio clipped to his chest and then hurried inside the building with another. I slowly got to my feet, but then my knees shook and everything started spinning.
Someone gripped my elbow and guided me back to the ground. My eyes stayed glued on the theater as the flames continued to spread.
Please, please. Where are you?
The theater wasn’t that big. What was taking him so long?
Whoever crouched next to me spoke, but all I heard were the sirens coupled with my pounding heart.
A window popped, and glass rained down to the flowerbeds below. More smoke poured out of the building before billowing higher and higher into the sky as two ambulances drove up.
Come on. Come on.
Why couldn’t they find him? Where—
Finally, the two firemen who had gone into the building came out, one carrying Reed draped over his shoulders and the other carrying Ben.
Oh God.
Four EMTs hurried over with two gurneys as the boys were lowered to the ground, where they didn’t move.
No, no, no.
I tried to stand again, but another EMT appeared at my side. She held my wrist and timed my pulse with her watch while I stared at Ben and Reed being wheeled into an ambulance. Reed’s hand hung loosely to his side.
No, God no. Not him. Please, not him.
“You’re lucky.” The EMT took off her stethoscope and shined a bright light into my eyes. “A few more minutes and we’d have had to take you in too. I’d like to clean that cut before we let you go though.”
“But— Re— What’s going to happen to him?” I pointed toward the ambulance.
“They’re taking both boys to the hospital. Probably had some bad smoke inhalation.” She took out a kit and began blotting something that stung onto my cheek. “Don’t you worry. I’m sure they’ll be okay.”
A loud BOOM came from the theater and shook the ground. Like something out of a movie, the roof of the Lyric collapsed. Flames shot skyward like rockets. A crowd had gathered nearby, all of them pointing and yelling and filming the destruction of one of the oldest buildings in town.
One of the best connections I had left to my grandmother.
Gone.
The ambulance’s sirens started up before it sped away toward Clairview, and my head fell into my hands.
Inside that bus lay the boy who had done nothing all summer except try to save his family’s legacy. The same boy who just risked his life to save mine. I’d never forgive myself if he wasn’t okay.