Chapter Text
It was the last day of theater camp, and Robbie was gathering his things for the last time from his cubby in the rehearsal room. He was usually the last teenager to leave, and this day was no different.
“Hey Robbie, don't go yet,” Mr. Gretel, the theater teacher, said. He was sitting on the edge of the practice stage in the small room.
Robbie sat next to his teacher. “I have to compliment you on your performances the past few nights,” Mr. Gretel said. “You were one of the best Billy Bigelows I've ever seen, and believe me, I've directed Carousel many times.”
Robbie grinned. “Thanks a lot, Mr. Gretel! I had a lot of fun.”
“So you've graduated, right?”
“Yep!” Robbie said a little too enthusiastically.
“I'll miss you next year. You really do take your craft seriously.” The teacher paused. “What are your plans now?”
“Oh, you know...” Robbie shrugged. “I got a part-time job bagging groceries a few blocks from home. And I go up top every weekend with my magic show for a few extra bucks. I really wanna break out into one of the entertainment networks.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah!” The excitement shone through Robbie's voice. “Someone has to notice me if I work hard enough, right?”
Mr. Gretel held back a frown. “You've certainly got the talent to be a star up top,” he admitted.
“You really think so?”
“Yes,” his teacher said with a sigh. He placed a hand on the teenager's shoulder. “But, uh, listen. Be careful, okay? I used to work for one of the networks. There's people up there that are going to see what you've got and just tell you want to hear and...” Mr. Gretel trailed off.
Robbie had obviously stopped paying attention once Mr. Gretel had mentioned his previous job. “Wow, you used to work up there? What made you come back here?”
Mr. Gretel looked away. “Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have mentioned it. But you'll be fine, I'm sure. Take care of yourself, okay, Robbie?”
Robbie checked his watch. “I will! I better get home... my mom's waiting.” He smiled. “Thanks for everything, Mr. Gretel.”
---
One night after long hours of taping his game show, Bob Sparker came home to a message on his answering machine. A voice Bob had almost completely forgotten warbled through the speaker when he pressed play.
“Hey, Robbie, it's me, Mr. Gretel. Your old theater camp teacher? You have no idea how hard it was to get this number...” There was a sigh. “I almost didn't recognize you on your show, and you've changed your name, but, uh, congratulations. It looks like you got what you worked so hard for, huh?” Mr. Gretel's tone was unenthusiastic at best.
The recording was quiet for so long that Bob thought it had ended before the voice spoke up again, almost in a whisper. “Listen, kid, I'm worried about you. All those shocks can't be good for you, right? I'm sure you've made friends up there in Top Tier... don't they care what you're doing to yourself? I...doubt you're going to call me back. I'm sure you have better things to do than talk to your old teacher.” Mr. Gretel let out a humorless chuckle. “But if you need help, or someone to talk to, I'll be here for you, okay? No questions asked.”
There was a beep as the message ended for real. Bob pressed replay on the answering machine and sat on his couch, his head in his hands.
Mr. Gretel was wrong, Bob concluded as the message finished again. He frowned as he rubbed his hands together flat against his palms, sending a cascade of sparks through the air.
His friends did care about him.
It was just that he couldn't let them get too close.
Bob got up and stood in front of the answering machine. He pressed one of the buttons on it.
“Message deleted,” the machine intoned.
Bob was filled with instant regret. Luckily he was able to pull up the number through the caller id and wrote it down on a notepad.
The next morning, he dialed Mr. Gretel's number.
After a moment of exchanging pleasantries, Bob asked, “Didn't you say once you worked for one of the networks? I wanna know what happened.”