Chapter Text
It is September, 2009. A perfect time to put on a show.
“Can’t believe Jackie chose Midsummer. Do you know how many times I’ve done Midsummer, Izzy?”
“How many times have you done Midsummer, Edward?”
“Five. I’ve been Puck. I’ve been Bottom. I’ve been Theseus. I’ve been Oberon. I’ve been Theseus and Oberon. What’s left, Lysander and Demetrius? They’re boring, Iz.”
“You know they’ll give you whatever role you want.”
“I don’t want any of them! Fuck! She could’ve at least chosen Macbeth. Haven’t done Macbeth yet. I’d be a great Macbeth.”
“Edward. Stop. Saying. That word.”
“What, Macbeth? Macbeeeeeth.”
“Angels and ministers of fuckin’ grace defend us.”
“Maybe I just won’t audition. For the spring show, either. Probably be some boring shit like Our Town anyway. There’s no challenge anymore.”
“Come on, Ed, the department needs you.”
“Fuck the department.”
“And you love acting. What are you gonna do without the mainstage? Jack’s Mamet thing? The musical?”
“Musical, what musical?”
“Just some fucking musical.”
“But we don’t do musicals. Jackie hates musicals.”
“Jackie’s not directing it.”
“Who is?”
“Some fancy rich boy from some fancy rich school. He was handing out flyers about auditions.”
“Did you get one?”
“Edward, you can’t possibly be thinking—”
“A musical. Now that’s a challenge.”
Stede Bonnet surveyed his territory. It wasn’t much, just a high school choir room, but it was all his from 3:00 to 6:00 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for the next six weeks. There was a piano in one corner, an open space that would do for a stage, a handy whiteboard, and risers filled with friends ready to audition. Well, maybe not filled. And maybe not friends.
The only one he really knew was Mary, his ex-sort-of-girlfriend. She was busy making out with her new boyfriend, Doug, who, as she had taken pains to tell Stede, was only there for moral support, not to audition. The others were recruits from the flyer campaign. Lucius, the sophomore Stede had roped into stage managing, had written their names down as they arrived. Stede matched the names to the faces and measured them against the character list. Pete. Oluwande. Jim, they/them. Wee John, not wee at all. Roach – was that really his name? With Mary, that made six people auditioning for seven roles. Casting would be a tight squeeze.
As always, Stede took comfort in knowing that he was impeccably dressed, this time in a black cashmere turtleneck and crisp black jeans. It was the perfect outfit for an artistic genius. He’d left his last class early to change, deciding at the last minute to forgo the beret. He felt cool. He felt confident. But he didn’t start the audition.
At 3:05, Lucius sidled up to him. “Sooo, are we starting?”
“Not yet,” said Stede. “Let’s give other people a chance to turn up.”
“Other people,” repeated Lucius. “Right. Because they’re definitely coming.”
“That’s the spirit, Lucius!” Stede said, deciding to ignore the sarcasm. He’d gotten a lot of practice doing that at Badminton Boys’ Academy.
As the clock ticked on, the auditionees talked among themselves. They seemed to be more interested in gossip than in the event at hand. “Did you hear that Teach didn’t audition for the mainstage?” said Pete.
“No way,” said Roach.
“Meh, he’s probably just pre-cast,” said Wee John.
“I dunno,” said Pete, “I heard he’s quitting acting.”
Lucius gasped loudly enough that the others turned towards him, and by extension towards Stede. Startled by the sudden attention, he cleared his throat and said, “Who is this Teach fellow?”
Pete stared at him. “You don’t know Teach? Do you live under a rock?”
“He just transferred,” said Mary, coming up for air. “Cut him some slack. On that, anyway.”
“Yes, sorry. Hello, I’m Stede. You might remember me from the, you know, the flyers. How about you catch me up on the hot goss?”
“Oh my God,” whispered Lucius as most of the others snickered.
Oluwande took pity on Stede. “Teach is kind of an acting legend around here. He’s a senior now and he’s been in every mainstage show since he was a freshman.”
“The first one was Cyrano de Bergerac,” added Wee John. “He played Christian and stole the show. Do you know how hard it is to steal Cyrano from Cyrano?”
“I acted opposite him once,” said Pete. “It was amazing.”
Jim rolled their eyes. “You did not.”
“I did! A Midsummer Night’s Dream, at camp the summer after seventh grade. Eighth grade, for him. He played Bottom.”
“And who did you play?” asked Roach.
“Mm, not important,” said Pete.
“Spit it out,” said Jim.
Pete wilted and mumbled, “Mustardseed.”
“Hah!” said Jim. “He’s got like two lines!”
“Six lines, thank you very much! I had the most lines out of all the fairies!”
“Uh, Puck,” said Jim.
“And Oberon,” said Oluwande.
“Titania,” said Mary.
“The ‘Over hill, over dale’ fairy,” said Wee John.
“Fuck the ‘Over hill, over dale’ fairy,” said Pete, with the venom of a long-held grudge.
The gossip turned even more incomprehensible, and Stede went back to staring at the door. At 3:11, it opened, but only to reveal Frenchie, the musical director. He’d agreed to the job when Stede convinced him it would look good on his college resume, and then he’d gone and wangled extra credit out of it, too. Stede gave him a little wave as he went to the piano to warm up.
At 3:15, Lucius cleared his throat. “Stede… don’t you think it’s time?”
Stede sighed. “You’re right. Why don’t you introduce me?”
“But you already… fine. Fine! Attention, everyone!” he said, following the script Stede had given him. Frenchie played a fanfare. “Please allow me to introduce the new kid at Nassau High, your musical maven, Director Stede Bonnet!”
“Hi, all!” Stede said over the lack of applause. “I’m so excited to begin this journey with you. We are all here,” he continued in his grandest voice, “because we wish to worship at the altar of Thespis.”
“I’m here because my mom made me,” said Mary, now sitting on Doug’s lap.
“And I’m here because you said there’d be food,” said Roach.
“Yeah, where is that?” said Wee John.
“All in good time!” said Stede. There was, in fact, a rather delectable-looking cheese platter on ice in his car. He decided to hurry things along and ditch the rest of his grand speech. “Now that you’ve met me, I’d like to introduce my team. Lucius here is the stage manager. Please take any concerns to him.”
“Or not, you could not,” said Lucius.
“And over at the piano is Frenchie, our musical director and pianist.”
“Heh, ‘pianist,’” said Pete.
Stede exercised his ignoring skills again. “As you all know, I have decided to produce Nassau High’s first musical: The Fantasticks. Is everyone familiar with the show?” After a moment of silence, he tried again. “Is anyone familiar with the show?”
“Yeah, think that’s a no, mate,” said Frenchie.
“Very well! I’ll give you a brief rundown of the plot and characters. Now, it’s based on Les Romanesques, a play by Edmond Rostand.”
“The Cyrano guy?” asked Wee John.
“The Cyrano guy!” said Stede. “The first act is a bit of a Romeo and Juliet parody. A boy and a girl fall in love, despite their feuding fathers. But there’s a twist! The fathers aren’t really feuding, they’re using reverse psychology to get their kids together. They arrange for a fake bandit to pretend to kidnap the girl so the boy can save her and end the feud. The act ends with the families united and a wedding in the offing. The second act goes beyond the ‘happily ever after.’”
“Oh, like Into the Woods,” said Oluwande. Jim raised an eyebrow. “What? I like musicals!”
“A little bit like Into the Woods, yes,” said Stede, “but The Fantasticks did it first. The boy and girl find out about the fathers’ scheme and break up. The boy leaves in search of adventure. The girl gets metaphorically seduced by the bandit. But it all works out in the end, and they get another chance at their happy ending.”
“Heh, ‘happy ending,’” said Pete.
“And now the characters!” said Stede loudly. “Traditionally, they’re all billed by their types instead of or in addition to their names. Lucius, write these on the board.” Lucius sighed deeply, but uncapped a marker. “First we’ve got the Boy, Matt, and the Girl, Luisa,” Stede continued. “They’re your pretty standard ingenues. Very much in love, although Luisa does fantasize about being swept off her feet by a wicked older man. The Boy’s Father, Hucklebee, and the Girl’s Father, Bellomy. Kind of a vaudeville team. The Old Actor, Henry, a bumbling Shakespearean. The Man Who Dies, Mortimer, an actor who specializes in death scenes. The two of them help out with the abduction plot. The Mute, who doesn’t get a name. He passes out props and stands in for scenery, things like that, but he can also react to what’s going on. With body language! Because he doesn’t talk, obviously. He’s the Mute!”
“Wanna run that by us again? I don’t think we got it,” said Mary.
Stede glared at her. “And finally, the Narrator, El Gallo. He is the true heart of the show, with beautiful songs and speeches that don’t just tell the story, they tell you that he’s got his own story. He also plays the bandit, who is rather dashing. And I,” said Stede, tossing his hair in his most dashing manner, “will be playing him. Unless, of course, the absolutely perfect person…” His voice trailed off as the door opened and the absolutely perfect person walked in.
He was tall, with long black hair and a beard that, for a teenager, was truly impressive. He was dressed in black, including the coolest leather jacket that Stede had ever seen, which made the turtleneck suddenly feel passé. He looked dangerous. He looked gorgeous.
“Holy shit,” said Pete.
Stede was inclined to agree with him. Here was the striking, soulful bandit of Luisa’s dreams – and maybe his as well – in the flesh. All that he needed was the iconic red scarf. Well, that and… “You!” Stede said, pointing dramatically at the newcomer. “Can you sing?”
“Yeah, probably. Haven’t really tried. This the audition for the musical?”
“It is indeed, my good man!” Stede held out his hand. “Stede Bonnet, director. And you are…?”
Something – amusement? surprise? – flickered across the newcomer’s face. It was a very expressive face, Stede noted with purely professional interest. “I’m Ed,” he said at last, reaching out to shake Stede’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Ed,” said Stede. “We were just about to begin. Why don’t you go first?”
“Uh, sure,” said Ed. “Do you want a monologue, or…?”
“Let’s start with a song. Lucius, give him ‘Try to Remember.’ Frenchie, play the melody.”
“Don’t have to do that,” said Ed, looking at the page handed to him by an awestruck Lucius. “I read music.”
“Really! That’s wonderful!” said Stede.
“Yeah, took piano for years. Could I just hear my first note?”
“Yes sir,” Frenchie said, and played it.
Ed hummed until he matched it. “Thanks, man. And… Steve, was it?”
“It’s Stede, actually. Common mistake, no ill will.” At least not for handsome strangers who voluntarily showed up to audition for musicals.
“Stede, right. I’ll remember that,” said Ed, and he smiled. “So, Stede, what is this song, like, about?”
“Ah,” said Stede. He took a moment to recover from the smile. “Well, it’s the opening number. You’re the narrator, inviting the audience into your world and getting them ready to hear a story about young love. Does that make sense?”
Ed skimmed through the lyrics again. “Guess so, yeah.”
“Great! So let’s hear the first verse, please. Frenchie?”
As Frenchie played the opening bars, Ed transformed. His posture straightened, his face opened, his eyes went dreamy. As he sang, he looked at each member of his little audience in turn, barely glancing at the page. “Try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow…”
Ed had a very nice voice, Stede thought. He clearly wasn’t a trained singer, and his breath control could use some work, but the notes were there, along with an appealing raspy quality. Yes, this was an El Gallo worth giving up the role for.
“Try to remember,” sang Ed, turning to Stede for the end of the verse, “and if you remember, then follow.” Another smile accompanied the last few piano notes, and if Stede had any remaining doubts, they were obliterated.
“Oh, you are hired,” Stede said breathlessly as the others applauded.
“Really great work, Teach,” said Frenchie.
“Teach?” said Stede. “As in… the Teach? The legend of the Nassau mainstage?”
“Duh,” said Pete.
Ed ducked his head. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“And you want to do my musical?” asked Stede. He faltered. “This isn’t a joke, is it?” It wouldn’t be the first time someone had feigned interest in his pursuits for a laugh.
“No joke, man,” said Ed. “I wanted something different, and here you are, doing something different. That okay?”
“Oh, that is more than okay. Welcome to The Fantasticks, Teach!” Stede paused. “Or Ed? Which would you prefer?”
“Ed’s fine.” His eyes were sparkling – definitely amusement this time, Stede thought.
“Well then, Ed, feel free to take a seat, and we’ll get on with the audition.” As Ed settled in next to Pete, who looked like he might pass out, Stede scanned the risers. “All right, let’s start with Luisa. Mary and Jim, come on up!”
Mary reluctantly stood, but Jim stayed seated. “You want me to audition for someone literally called ‘the Girl?’” they said.
“Well, you are the only other, um, person who might be able to sing— you don’t have to be a girl to play a— never mind, then,” Stede said as Jim glared daggers at him. “Would you like to read for the Boy?”
Jim studied the character list on the board with narrowed eyes. “I’ll be the Mute.”
“Ah. Wonderful! So that leaves only one candidate for Luisa. Congratulations, Mary.”
“Fuck you, Stede,” said Mary.
“There’s a story here, I just know it,” muttered Lucius.
“Moving on,” said Stede, “do the rest of you have any role preferences?”
Pete, Oluwande, Wee John, and Roach looked at each other and shrugged. “The Man Who Dies sounds pretty badass,” Pete ventured.
“He’s not, but noted,” said Stede. “How about you all come up and we’ll do some reading and singing?”
“And then the food?” asked Roach.
“And then the food,” agreed Stede, and the others cheered.
The rest of the audition went well enough, Stede thought. The boys could all sing, more or less, no matter what Lucius’s scrunched-up faces implied. Mary refused to read with anyone, but Ed was happy to step in as both Luisa and El Gallo. He actually seemed delighted by the whole process, and while he laughed a lot, Stede never felt that he was being laughed at. It was exhilarating to have someone truly on his side. He drew out the audition as long as possible, even reading himself just for the pleasure of it.
But by 4:45, there was really nothing left to be done. Mary and Doug were long gone, and most of the others were starting to look bored. Jim had even fallen asleep, sprawled across three chairs with Oluwande’s beanie over their eyes. Roach was nursing a bruised knee, the product of an overenthusiastic death scene. It was cheese platter time.
“All right, great work, everyone!” said Stede. “That’s a wrap on auditions. The cast list will go up tomorrow, but don’t worry, you all made it.”
“Not like he had much choice,” Lucius said to Frenchie in a just-loud-enough whisper.
“Our first rehearsal will be in here on Wednesday,” Stede continued. “I can’t wait to read through the show and have a blast as a cast!” Silence, except for a chortle from Ed. Stede cleared his throat. “Now, if you’ll just sit tight for a minute, I’ll get the snacks. Ed? Would you mind giving me a hand?”
“Yeah sure, no problem,” said Ed. He stood and followed Stede out of the choir room. “Hey, could you—” he started.
“I figured—” Stede said at the same time. They laughed together, and Stede said, “You go first.”
“Was just gonna ask if you could explain the plot,” said Ed. “I got some of it from the scenes, but I think I’m missing things.”
Stede smiled. “I was going to suggest I do just that. So, the first act is a bit of a Romeo and Juliet parody…”
“You’re doing the musical?”
“I’m doing the musical.”
“You’re doing the musical.”
“I’m doing the musical.”
“You’re doing. The fucking musical?!”
“What is this, Meisner class? I’m doing the musical, yeah. The audition was fun. And I got the lead.”
“Of course you did.”