Lights Up

What Could Go Wrong?

Dia's POV
"Mic check!"

"Has anyone seen a basketball?"

"Who stole my eyeliner?!"

"Jack, get OFF THE TABLE!"

Guess what today is. Tech rehearsal. The entire cast is here, we've already run out of snacks, Jack is standing on one of the cafeteria tables from Status Quo and he won't get off, it's a mess. I'm sitting next to Damien on one of the prop boxes while he plays Steve on his phone, just watching everything. Miss Medda isn't here, apparently there was a mix-up at the office store where she printed the tickets (Her printer's broken), so she went there to try and sort things out. And left Crutchie in charge of running rehearsal. It makes sense, he is the stage manager, but now it looks like he's about to tear his hair out in frustration. Everyone continues yelling about various things as Crutchie tries to get their attention. There's a click as the speaker from the sound booth turns on. Frances to the rescue.

"WOULD EVERYBODY SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO CRUTCHIE, PLEASE AND THANK YOU?!"

Frances had been in the sound booth the whole time, trying to coordinate everyone's mics. I kind of envy her, at least it's quiet in there. Crutchie gives her a thumbs up before addressing the group.

"If you do NOT have a mic, go sit in the front row of seats so you're out of the way and we can fix that. We are going to be running a portion of the ski lodge scene so we can work out the lighting. Can I get Phillip, Dia, and all ensemble members who are in that scene to come onstage? Everyone else needs to get off the stage."

That's me. I've already got my microphone, so I walk over and stand in my place next to Phillip. I don't really know how to act around him since the kiss conversation. And I hate being awkward with him, cause he's one of my best friends. So I just try to focus on Aunt Nina's advice. Focus on Gabriella, not Dia. Troy, not Phillip. We run through the scene, minus the singing, stopping every few seconds so the spotlight can be adjusted. It takes FOREVER. Well, maybe not forever, but it takes a LONG TIME. Finally, we finish, and I go and sit down. Crutchie calls Damien and Grace up to run through Bop To The Top, so I'm left alone on the prop box. Until Jack comes and sits next to me, a curious and slightly suspicious expression on his face.

"What's up with you and Phil?"

"Nothing, Jack."

"Uh huh. If that's nothing, then I'm straight. That boy's got it BAD for you."

"He doesn't like me, Jack. I know that."

"Dia, how oblivious can you be? He literally KISSED YOU."

"He came up to me afterwards and apologized, said that he wasn't thinking. If he really liked me, why did it seem like he regretted doing it?"

"I don't know, Dia. Phil was angry with Pulitzer, and people act differently when they're angry. But I know for a fact that he really likes you, Dia. I can tell. Crutchie is better than me at this kind of stuff, but I can tell. Out there?"

He pauses a moment, gesturing to the stage.

"Out there, when he's playing Troy? That's not all acting. Troy Bolton may like Gabriella Montez, but Phillip Hamilton loves Dia de la Vega. I'm sure of it."

He gets up with a smile and heads over to talk to Crutchie, who's just called a break. Before I can think any more about what Jack said, Frances calls down frantically from the sound booth.

"Everyone, look around. We have a problem. The extra box of mics is gone."

Everyone immediately starts searching the auditorium. Over half the cast still doesn't have mics, including major characters like Chad and Ms. Darbus. We're searching everywhere, under seats, in other boxes, but we can't find the box. Crutchie and Frances are growing increasingly panicked, cause Miss Medda will be back any minute and we lost half the microphones.

"Guys, I found them!"

Dylan came racing back into the auditorium holding a small cardboard box.

"Woooooo!"

"Thank goodness."

"HALLELUJAH."

"Where were they?"

Frances immediately starts putting mics on people as Dylan talks.

"I saw a janitor take a bunch of empty cardboard boxes from the sound booth earlier to put them in recycling. I thought, maybe he picked up the one with the mics in it too? So I went outside to check the recycling bin and there it was!"

Miss Medda came back a few minutes later to a smoothly running rehearsal and everyone in possession of a mic. Mission Accomplished. I haven't had any time to really think about what Jack said, but knowing me I'll probably stay up way too late laying in bed and staring at the ceiling while overanalyzing it. Oh well. We're wrapping up today's rehearsal, though we'll have a few more over the next few days to finalize all the technical stuff. I can do this.

850 words