Melt and resolve

I feel like hell. According to my mother, I've got whatever Charles Wallace has. Arne was over again, pestering us to read his work for his stupid writing course.
"I can't understand why you kids are sick all the time," he said.
"Maybe it's because Mom's a family doctor. Or maybe it's because your crap fog machine damaged my lungs," I answered.
"Sure, hold a grudge. How could I know that deeply-discounted, used equipment without a warranty would malfunction?" Arne went off to get Charles Wallace to help him log onto his stupid class's stupid website. Duncan phoned, and I coughed a bit at him over the line. He said he's in better shape than me, since he was either in the shower or out with Birnam Wood during the worst of the performance. Mirabell's under heavy sedation, Duncan also said, since he tried to get the nurses at Milborough General into a version of Timon of Athens. When Duncan and I got off the phone, Arne wandered in again.
"You're the only teenager I know," he started.
"And that's my misfortune, not yours."
"Hey, be nice. I'm having a professional crisis here."
"How can you have a professional crisis when you just started working?" Arne said the problem was with the old people at the early shows at the Valhalla.
"I'm a magician, dammit, a master of illusions, and stop giggling. Those old folks think everything I'm doing is real! What's the point of it all?"
"Getting paid regularly?" I suggested. He scoffed.
"My illusions are wasted on them!" I said he could just keep it up until they started to realize he was faking it, and he looked a little happier. I just wanted him to go away.

Like an unweeded garden

I've never had my mother give me oxygen before. It was odd. The Milborough Petfinder ran a front page story about the whole Macbeth debacle, including a joke about how lucky we all were that there was a doctor in the house (and a nurse, too: Mrs. Anderson was busy with the oxygen too). The downside is that since I was one of the last people out (damn Girl Guide training: I found myself helping people out of the building), I'm sick. Charles Wallace had taped the television news coverage of the play last night, and thoughtfully played it for me while I hacked.
"You were falling out of your costume there," he pointed out.
"Thanks, creep. Why'd you mess up the blood?"
"I thought it would be better that way. I guess it wasn't." I would have punched him but my lungs hurt. The next shot was of Mirabell being led away, announcing his plans for an all-elementary school child version of Coriolanus.
My mother had trouble deciding who she was angrier at: my uncle or at Mirabell. As Arne hadn't made me change hair colour, or done any extortion, he got a bye on this one.

What is the sound of no hands clapping

Mirabell just gave us the pre-show pep talk. I think it was a pep talk, since he seemed pretty jittery giving it.
"All right: it's time for the magic of the theatre to begin. Except for you, Fleance, you're just not working and I'll play your part. You just take a free branch and join the forest." Then he did the power circle that he claimed every show started with. It was more of a power rhomboid. Mirabell's out mingling with parents, teachers, unwary students, and the janitorial staff.

The prospect of death concentrates the mind wonderfully

There is a first time for everything, and today I got to see Duncan actually turn down a double double and maple dip at Tim Horton's. He said he was afraid he'd throw it up (it's not like I haven't seen him vomit before). Instead he drank a "steeped" tea very slowly and ate an unglazed sour cream doughnut. I think we're going to be stuck eating dinner, or a facsimile thereof, at Tim Hortons. April's supposed to come by once she's soundchecked. The accountant with the moustache was in here, too. He got a large double double and then rolled up the rim. "Why do I feel like such a loser?" he said plaintively as he threw away the "please play again" cup. Then he walked away, saying, "I have no home," to no-one in particular.
"I guess he really is a loser, Duncan," I said, pulling his other, unrolled, cup out of the trash. I rolled the rim, and sure enough, I'd just won a coffee.
It's weirdly cold for April. We had a frost warning last night. Charles Wallace said it was a sign, but my mother said it's only a sign that the climate's getting screwed up. I think she's reading the latest David Suzuki book again. The world is collapsing: I've been telling my parents that for years.

Waiting for the angel

The play is tonight. I started to be nervous eating breakfast. It didn't help that Charles Wallace kept on saying "Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth!" over and over between coughing fits. At least he's staying home tonight. My mother's told Arne to come over and watch him tonight. (I wonder what relative he'll say is dead this time when he's got to tell Mr. McGuire that he won't be doing the show tonight.)
Due to Mirabell's demands, the cafetorium was closed today. He pulled Jeremy out of his morning classes to start setting up. After school April has to start her sound checks.
We're doing Pride and Prejudice in English class today, and as usual Jane Austen is driving me mad. The stupid teacher asked us what we thought of Mr. Bingley. She said that Mr. Bingley was an honest man, because he trusted Darcy and the gossip he heard. I told her that Bingley was just too trusting and a bit gullible, and why would anyone think he was such a prize anyway? She stopped me before I could start in on Mr. Darcy. I thought the movie was stupid, anyway. They tried to make it interesting by having Mr. Darcy dress like Heathcliff but they couldn't fool me. Jane Austen's too damn happy.

To scrutinize and expose

Karma, or fate, does indeed work. Charles Wallace has a really bad cold now. He's been on cough medicine all day.
Emily Dickinson wrote about seeing a soul at the white heat, but I actually haven't seen one until this afternoon. Mirabell is on a mission, and taking us all with him. I'm not sure what the mission is, but there must be some reason why Birnam Wood is muttering, "Never get off the boat." The man's been on a Stanislavsky tear. During Act I, he stopped the action and said, "This still isn't working. Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, this isn't working. Macbeth, you have the presence of a pressed wood bookshelf, and Lady Macbeth, if we had scenery, you would have consumed it by now. Zandra, acting isn't like spackling. You can't spread it around to make it even out." Macbeth and I backed away from each other. "JEREMY! Can you light these two to make it seem like they actually like each other?" The rest continued like this. "APRIL: FASTER AND MORE INTENSE!" "Make that Porter drunk! Jeremy--check that lighting!" "I want to see those plants LIVE--Birnam Wood, I'm talking to you!" Luckily I was dead by the time my mother called to tell me she was on duty again tonight, and to ask that I'd make sure Charles Wallace used his inhaler. Duncan's been really nervous all day about the play, so he came over tonight to rehearse. He brought me the darkest red roses I've ever seen: they look like blood, and are wonderful. I'm nervous too: my mother will be there, and she said that my father, depending on the tax returns, might be there too. This is certainly much bigger than when I played Child Number Two in "The Pied Piper of Hamlin" in Grade Three.

Bleak house

I hate my brother. Not only did he hold Duncan's passwords and email addresses for ransom, he swiped April's phone, too. He claimed to be practicing "sleight of hand." At least I was able to bargain him down on the ransoms. He only got $10.00 out of Duncan for his passwords and email addresses, and nothing for April's phone. Of course, I was holding him two feet above the ground while negotiating, and made him an offer he couldn't refuse.
Drama was hellish. Mirabell's been acting like he's putting on a guerrilla production, and only today did he finally say when opening night was. It's Wednesday, and we'll be performing for the school on Thursday and Friday afternoons. He screamed at most of the actors, and threatened to fire most of us. Mirabell told me I put Duncan's blood on all wrong, and dumped most of it on his head. He kept telling April to play "faster, and more intense." He gave Jeremy a third binder of lighting cues, and a second binder of effects cues. Arne delivered the blood late, and Mirabell yelled at him, too (which I enjoyed). It's a good thing Mirabell isn't actually in the play himself, since he looks like he's about to go all Method. Afterwards I went for coffee with Duncan and then walked home (he had to go home since he missed his curfew on Saturday night). Arne was over, asking my mother if she had any family photographs he could pretend were his and write about for his stupid course.

Done with the chart

When I was at Tim Hortons with Duncan and April this afternoon, I asked April if she wanted a younger brother. I'd send him over immediately.
I was preoccupied with Duncan last night, and didn't notice when Charles Wallace got back from whatever he was doing to help Arne. Duncan left before my mother got in from the hospital. I slept in, and must have been right out of it since I didn't notice Charles Wallace poking around my nightstand. When I came down to eat breakfast he was sitting at the table with what he called "evidence." Part of it looked like a cell phone.
"He'll never see this again," he said, shaking the phone, "and I'll tell Mom and Dad where I found it, unless you upgrade my internet access and game access for my BlackBerry." Little extortionist. I didn't have much of a choice, though, since he was about to produce the things he pulled from my trash. Charles Wallace pointed out that his previous vow of silence covered only my relationship with Ed. At least Charles Wallace is still fairly cheap to shut up. I helped him with the stuff he bought from the COC sale, and he released Duncan's cell phone to me.

Another senseless tragedy

We just got back from Toronto. I helped Arne unload the car at the Valhalla, and then he dropped me and Charles Wallace at home. Charles Wallace bought part of the set for Bluebeard's Castle. I have no idea why, and it barely fit in the back seat with all the junk Arne bought. Arne had not noticed that the sale was "cash only." He found that out when he was trying to pay for the swords, spears, lances, bodkins, daggers, poniards, quarterstaves, foils, sabres, and juggling balls (the COC swore that they were from the circus scene in Aida) he picked up.
"Shit. Cash only. Hey babe, want to trust me on it and come back with me for dinner?" Not surprisingly the woman at the register didn't go for that. "Hey babe," he then said, tapping me on the shoulder, "how much cash did your mother give you before you left the house?"
"None. She gave it to Charles Wallace, and he's spent it all on scenery."
"All right, I'll stay here in line, you take your cash card and go find an ATM." I hit him at that point. "OK, take my cash card, and go find an ATM." He gave me the card and thankfully he remembered to give me his PIN.
There aren't any ATMs near the Canadian Opera Company's main buildings. I had to walk a few blocks to the convenience store near the Toronto Sun building, and then I had to wait in line with other people who forgot the sale was cash only. When I got back to the sale Arne was talking to a guy who was with Duncan's ex-girlfriend Becky McGuire. Neither the guy nor Becky looked happy. I didn't look very happy myself: it was raining and I was trapped in Toronto with my uncle and brother.
Finally Arne paid for everything and we loaded the car. I made Charles Wallace sit in the back with the weaponry and I sat in front with the juggling equipment. As we drove back on the highway, I asked Arne who the man with Becky was.
"Huskuld, no, Howard. I took his gig at the Valhalla. Now he only does the late show and I'm getting twice the tips. I can't help it if Milborough's got a taste for magic." He spent the rest of the drive back talking about his new game plan. "I've joined that creative non-fiction writing class at the college: women love creative men. Between that and my act, I'll have babes lining up at my door." Kill me now God, please.
Since I started writing this, Arne's come back for Charles Wallace ("urgent practice" Arne said). My mother's on duty at the emergency department at Milborough General tonight. My father's trapped in a sea of tax returns at the office. I think I'll call Duncan. The Leafs are out of the playoffs, so it should be safe.

Shopping for blood

I'm writing this sitting in the back seat of my uncle's car, on my brother's BlackBerry. Uncle Arne showed up at the house first thing this morning to take Charles Wallace out to Toronto to go to the Canadian Opera Company's garage sale. Arne said he needed new props, especially with the increased demands on his act at the Valhalla. My mother said I had to go to keep an eye on Charles Wallace and Arne, especially since I know my way around Toronto better than Arne does. "Don't let Charles Wallace buy any electronic equipment," my mother called when we left.

Practicum

Even though Mirabell hasn't told us when we're actually supposed to be doing this damn play, it seems like we're getting closer to putting on this show. We ran through the whole thing today (and we don't normally have drama club on Fridays) and then Mirabell took notes on what April played and what he thought Jeremy should light. He also kept stopping the rehearsal for the smallest things. He kept telling Duncan he was still breathing (when he was dead, and it was Mirabell's own fault Duncan was dead on stage), harassed Macduff for the way he carried Macbeth's head (rotten cabbage), and re-arranged the branches of Birnam Wood. At the end of the rehearsal, Mirabell announced that he had some new blood. We thought he meant new actors. He meant he had new blood, and he brought in the inventor of the new blood.
"I saw him at the Valhalla this Monday, and was astounded by what he did with artificial body fluids. This is Arne Larson, cast and crew, and he'll be providing you with your blood for the production." Arne looked a bit lost, for once. Duncan looked really unhappy, since he already knew what the blood smelt like (and he'd have to wear a lot of it). Mirabell then started giving Jeremy more notes, and Duncan and I took Arne out. Arne had the car, and we went to the convenience store at Mayes Motors. Arne said he needed coffee, and it was the closest place. When we went in, Dante said, "I'm not even supposed to be here today," and Duncan and I went to the coffee machines. The crazy dentist was there, talking to a guy with a suspicious moustache. Arne was looking at the cars over on the lot nearby.
"Whoa. If I owned that car, I'd be looking for the biggest paper bag possible. Woof!" Arne said. He was pointing at a bloated station wagon with a spoiler. The guy with the moustache turned around.
"That's a 2007 Crevasse Wagon, you know. Top of the line." Arne got a bag of corn-nuts. Duncan took me into the Hostess products aisle and told me that that the moustached man was Anthony Caine.
"The other accountant?" I asked. I knew all about him, or at least the accounting part. Duncan said yes, and started to pull Arne to the cash register. I picked up some mints and we left, leaving Dante to complain about Mr. Caine not paying for the coffee the dentist drank.

Cursed fate

I've had a look out to the front yard, and happily the coast is clear. Yesterday morning I got rushed out of the house by Charles Wallace, who said he had to do something at school early. Before I could argue with him, Uncle Arne pulled up. He waved us into the car (Charles Wallace insisted on riding in the front, which was good, since I could duck down in the back seat), and drove off, demanding to know where some teenagers were. Charles Wallace, the little twerp, gave him directions to Duncan's house. Duncan looked a little worried when he got in the car. He asked what was going on, and was the cat involved.
Arne said, "It's part of my new job, now that the act's had to change structure." (Charles Wallace threw something at me at that point). "I need to observe real teenagers in order to find some new angle to sate the restless bloodlust of these crazed old people I'm performing in front of." Duncan then told him where his friend April lived. "Stockholm syndrome: isn't it great?" Arne asked.
We ended up at the Valhalla, and Arne set up his gear onstage. "What do teenagers do?" he asked.
I reminded him, "No family, no friends, and no-one who's likely to have expensive lawyers. If any of those three categories are breached, you are not to cause lasting harm or injury to the persons involved, or to destroy, deface, or othewise degrade their clothing, personal effects, and/or means of transport." Arne agreed and then worked on a trick with April and Duncan. I cornered Charles Wallace.
"All right, you little twerp, I won't tell Mom and Dad about this and you keep your mouth shut about me and Ed." He agreed. He actually seemed to like working for Arne.
"It's neat here, Sandra. Do we have Viking ancestors?"
"I'm not sure, but I know that Mom's ancestors spent 200 years hiding from Vikings in Yorkshire." We were interrupted by Arne shouting suddenly.
"No, really, where did the lighter fluid come from?" Duncan's pants were covered in it, as well as with Arne's fake blood mix (which he's trying to patent: corn syrup, red food colouring, ketchup, and rotting beef broth 'for that mortal smell'). The whole uniform had the 'blood' all over it. While April went to help Duncan get the worst of the 'blood' off, Charles Wallace looked very guilty. He tried to run behind the bar, but I hauled him out. He ended up confessing to Arne that he thought the "sawing a teenager in half" trick would look better if there were flames as well as blood. Arne commended him on his initiative then rounded April, Duncan and me up to take us to school. Duncan needed to go change his pants, so Arne dropped him off at his home after he dropped April and me at school.
Otherwise the day went the same way all days go, concluding with drama club. Duncan was late for school because he made the mistake of relying on Arne to pick him up, then he was late for drama club because he had to serve a detention for being late for school. April played the score from Jaws for Mirabell and he loved it. The Porter threatened to quit (again), and two of Macduff's army were allergic to Birnam Wood.

Happy nightmare baby

It's been busy the past two days. Yesterday at school Zapata, Zenia, Zahava and Zainab met me for lunch.
"Zandra, your behaviour has been odd over the past two months, starting with you actually doing something the guidance counsellor told you to do," Zapata started.
"I had to, since it was connected with the ultimate goal of leaving Milborough," I replied.
"That's acceptable. Your sudden hair colour change was borderline, until Zenia pointed out that Magenta has red hair in Rocky Horror," Zahava said.
"And the boyfriend. Duncan is in grade 9, which is a big minus. However, he's a musician, which makes up for a lot. And he looks good in a kilt, which is rare in this high school," Zapata continued.
"So, I still have the approval of my preferred subculture?" I asked. They said yes.
Then, at dinner, my mother said, "Zandra, your therapist called this afternoon."
"Oh, he's back from his safari?" I asked. My mother shook her head, and said that he'd been on a course in London, and that he wanted me to make an appointment. "I'm perfectly normal now. I love Milborough, I love school, and I love Charles Wallace." My mother said good try, but no, I had to go back to my stupid therapist. Luckily right then my dad came in from the office and said that his receptionist said that her father had been to the Valhalla last night and saw the most interesting magic show.
"According to her, it was some big Swedish guy and a dwarf. It was so cute, she said." My father was looking at Charles Wallace. "I suppose you were in bed at the time?" Charles Wallace claimed that I was supposed to be watching him at the time and thus it was my fault. "No, your mother was here, too, I came in before 9, so technically the whole family was here." It was great to see Charles Wallace get in more trouble than me.

Romantic wishcase

It's been a nice holiday. Yesterday Duncan came over, and my parents took Charles Wallace out. Those two things would just make a good day on their own. Duncan brought me a chocolate rabbit. He broke the head off, and took the guts of a Laura Secord raspberry creme egg and used it to re-attach the bunny head. It was so cute. I gave him the various small Easter things I got at the convenience store, and threw in Charles Wallace's bunny (he wouldn't notice anyway). We stayed in most of the afternoon. I asked Duncan if he ever wanted to just leave Milborough. He said no, no yet, but he'd like it if people didn't do things to annoy his parents. "Today," Duncan said, "my dad was going on and on about how it really makes him mad how some people make personal loans for large amounts and only wait for faith to produce something. Money, my dad says, is always finance, and faith is faith. They don't mix, and why don't people use the credit union with its low rates?" That wasn't exactly what I meant, but he was so into it I didn't do anything. I kissed him before he started talking about the Leafs. Duncan left at about the time my parents got back from Toronto with Charles Wallace. They said they liked the parade (they always do), and that it seemed that Becky McGuire was it in, with some marching band. Or at least someone who looked a lot like Becky McGuire, Charles Wallace said. My parents had taken him for dinner at Licks, , so I was left on my own to forage. Charles Wallace went to play with his microscope and my mother went up to read. My father puttered about, complaining that he knew he was going to get a batch of returns to do on Tuesday.
"They keep on doing this. They take their stuff hoping to get it done cheap, and then they have to haul it over to me since Mr. Caine messed it up." I asked him what was wrong with the tax docs. "Well, to start with, they're a mess. And he keeps allowing the wrong things as deductions."
"Mess?" This sounded odd. Charles Wallace once barfed on the family return and we still sent it in.
"They'll all damp." I said that everyone knew Mr. Caine worked with his daughter around his chest in a snugly-type thing. "No, it's him. He cries all the time, I'm told." I don't understand accountancy.

What difference does it make?

Duncan was over until late last night. He got wrapped up in the hockey game again, and went from happy to miserable in about 2 minutes, from when the Leafs won to when Tampa Bay won. I hadn't seen him change emotions so fast since the day he got Kimmi's letter. At least Charles Wallace didn't bother us.
My parents went to Faith Lutheran's sunrise service this morning, and then took Charles Wallace to Toronto for the Easter Parade (I think they go more for themselves, to be honest). I've got the house to myself. I went out right after my parents left since I realized I didn't have any Easter-type stuff in the house and that it would be nice to give Duncan something. I ended up at the convenience store at Mayes Midtown Motors. Dante was behind the counter, complaining that he wasn't even supposed to be there today. He always says that. I picked up some Cadbury eggs and some Peeps and walked back home.

That joke isn't funny anymore

I was on the phone with Enid for a while. When I hung up, and went downstairs, I found a note from my parents. They went out for the day and asked me to watch my brother, and they'd be back late tonight. When I was looking in the fridge for something to eat, Charles Wallace came up beside me trailing wires.
"I'm telling Mom and Dad!" he yelled.
"About what? Me talking to Enid for an hour?" Then I realized what he had the debris of all over himself. "Charles Wallace, you know you're not supposed to tap the phones." I could've really killed him, since now he knew pretty much every detail of my short dating life with Ed.
"He sounds like a loser if he'd do anything with you, Sandra. What'll you give me if I don't tell Mom and Dad?"
"Nothing, you idiot. You aren't supposed to tap our phones, and I can stop Mom and Dad from sending you to forensic camp like you want." Charles Wallace sulked a bit and then said he was going over to help Arne. That was good: at least he'd be out of my hands for most of the day. I decided to call Duncan.

Ariel like a harpy

Happiness is strange, isn't it? The world is unfeeling, vicious, and liable to crush you like an iceberg, but then you find yourself happy hanging out in a Tim Hortons. Duncan and his friend April are a lot cooler than I thought. We sat around and April tried out things to play for Mirabell. Mirabell wouldn't know Stuart-era music if it mugged him, so I told April to just go for more of the television themes. I lent her Arne's cd set of themes.
This morning I called Enid and told her about Ed coming back for the summer, She agreed that she couldn't see why he'd come back to Milborough if he had been in Kingston all year. I told her that the idea of the breakup wasn't bad, since our relationship was going nowhere, but the fact that he did it in a letter, with a poem that he thought was an ode but didn't have anything resembling the line scheme, was really tacky. "He'd played on my feelings enough, but that really was the last straw," I told Enid. Enid agreed that the whole thing was doomed, since he was in Kingston and I was here, and 15, and better at English than he was. She said she liked Duncan better, anyway, and the fact that he was a musician was much cooler.

The charm's wound up

Thursday seemed so long. I had tests in French and English, and a quiz in chemistry. I had to wait in line with Duncan to use the utility closet. Only in Milborough would I have to wait in line until my more or less boyfriend's ex-girlfriend finished making out with her current boyfriend to be able to do the same thing with my more or less boyfriend. We didn't have a real rehearsal this afternoon, at least. Mirabell was preoccupied with the costumes. Ross, Lennox, and Fleance had all had their parents buy them kilts, only their parents got them at "All Things Uniform and Educational." And they happened to be St. Bibiana's (the Catholic high school's) girls' uniforms. Luckily Dirne was more concerned about Jeremy's shoes at the time. April played some pieces for Mirabell to consider, but he was really preoccupied. The only thing she played he said anything about was the Green Acres theme (he liked it).
Dinner was early, since my parents were going out for something. "You'll have company at the library again this summer," my father said. "Dirk Gloucester said that his son was coming back from Queens next week."
"Oh," I said. Charles Wallace perked up.
"Isn't he the guy who dumped you?"
"Yes, he was, you little twerp." Charles Wallace smirked. Edmund Gloucester was working at the library the same time I was last summer (the Milborough city council had decided that students were cheaper than adults, so that's how I got to shelve books every summer since I was 14). He was going to be starting his first year at Queens. We went out all summer, and a month after school started, he broke up with me in an irregularly-lined ode. I'm not really looking forward to shelving things with him all summer.
Duncan came over later. We hung out in the basement, but he got distracted because of the hockey game and we ended up watching. Charles Wallace came downstairs saying Duncan woke him up when the Leafs scored and won in overtime. Duncan left soon after that.

Strange infirmity

I really didn't know what to do about this morning. I felt I had to act like nothing had really changed, so I did the full governess (as Mirabell called it one day) and went to school. Steve Harper was really nasty to me in history class. "Hey Larson, you're picking them young now. Does he have better blood than the last one?" Luckily the teacher started the test at that point.
I met Duncan in the utility closet before my lunch period. Duncan's got to be the best kisser I've known (but then, I don't have all that much to compare him with).
Rehearsal was awful. Mirabell made a few pointed remarks about how he wasn't doing a revisionist Macbeth, so some actors would just have to manage to keep their hands to themselves. Duncan's friend April came to rehearsal and brought her guitar. Mirabell had no real idea what he wanted her to play, so she started off with some classical pieces amped up. Then, Mirabell had decided that she should play something during Banquo's ghost scene. "Something anxious," he said, "that implies ghosts, guilt, and sudden fits." April started what sounded like the next-to-last guitar solo in "Stairway to Heaven," and was really loud. I started muttering about how stupid it was for Mirabell to give such vague directions so that no-one could hear any of the lines. Then I looked over to my right and Dirne was saying the same thing, or at least just the "stupid" part. Mirabell seemed happy, at least. Duncan told me earlier not to mention April's last name, but since he didn't remind me what it was it didn't matter. It sounded like her name was "Smatterbol" anyway. April's decision to use the viola bow on the guitar during the final battle was really good: no-one really needed to hear most of the lines, and Macbeth couldn't emote for his life anyway.

My plenteous joys

It's been a long day. To start with, Blake barfed and I stepped in it on my way down to feed him. I guess he's finally losing his winter coat, or whatever bits of it he hasn't left on me. All of my teachers are fitting tests into this week since it's a short one. I've finally gotten fully used to having red hair, but my history teacher marked me absent because of it.
Drama club was different. Mirabell's really getting odd, now his hate-on for this Michael Patterson person is out in the open. He's setting more and more notes for the cast, and has given Jeremy (that's his name: Dirne corrected me yesterday) a binder of sound and light cues. Now Mirabell wants musicians: he said that if had known then what he knew now, Duncan would be backstage with his bass. Duncan volunteered his friend April to play, but I'm not sure if April would go for it. Mirabell isn't clear on what he wants the musicians to do, besides provide "sound." It's Jeremy's job to provide the fury, and unless Macbeth starts to improve his line readings he's signifying nothing.
In Act II I had my cue to put blood on Duncan before he got pulled back onstage. He was lying so peacefully that I couldn't help myself. He looked so perfect, just lying there, so I kissed him, He was surprised but he got into it too, and we got lost. Next thing I knew Mirabell was yelling, "Has Duncan got the blood all over him?" and Donalbain said, "No, he's got Lady Macbeth all over him." We separated before Mirabell could yell more. I think I'm falling for him, even though he's so nice and normal and my parents know him.

In the dark backward

Drama club is getting weirder every day. I felt kind of embarrassed about the hair colour change, so I wore one of my mother's old hats to school. She said it was a bad idea, and she was right. Zapata and Zenia pointed at me when I walked into English class, and that was the least of the ridicule. I wanted somewhere to hide, or something, so I went to the rehearsal room early. Mirabell was on his cell phone, really loud. I wasn't really noticable with the hat on (the room was dark) and I guess I'd learned something from doing "surveillance" with Arne last week, so I just listened to Mirabell. He was getting really emotional.
"I tell you," he said, "I know this is just a group of high school miscreants, but it's my first step back into theatre, my first step without HIM. You know how he ruined my first leading role: I was set to play Falstaff in the Piecrust Players production of Henry IV, but at the last minute the craven fool of a director came up to me and said he'd had a writer go over the script, "modernize" it, and as a result Falstaff was out! "Kids can't relate to loud drunken men," the writer told the director. Next, after I got out of rehab, I was set to direct a dinner theatre production of Romeo and Juliet. Next thing I know, the theatre manager's got a new "updated" script, and I'm walking! I hate that man! Every time I go into a seedy tacky bar, there he is! I went to a hotel bar on St. Patrick's Day--there he was! Michael Patterson is not going to ruin my last chance at restarting my career-- I don't care if I have to kill my entire cast, crew, and audience!" He sounded even more crazed than usual.
After that, the rehearsal itself was pretty calm. Dirne made faces at me when I took my hat off (I thought black went with red, anyway) and Mirabell decided that Duncan's dead body would get dragged onto the stage after Macduff finds him, so it'll be my job to get him all bloody. I think I've gotten used to having red hair.

Doubts even here

I feel so tortured. Between last night and this morning I washed the black dye out of my hair. My mother suggested that I wait a bit before putting in the red. I think she really just wanted to see me look like a little girl again. I felt so depressed I went along with it. I even put the pink Hello Kitty or whatever it was sweatshirt on my grandmother sent me for Christmas. My mother got a few photographs in and then I went out for coffee. I saw people I knew at the Second Cup so I decided that since I was so abject anyway, I'd just go to Tim Horton's. Nobody noticed me, which was good. Then Duncan came in and found me. We talked about yesterday (he went with me to Mount Pleasant and helped with my cousin Enid's project, and then we met up with her weird record collecting boyfriend) and then he said he'd walk me home since he was really good at going through people's backyards. It was really nice of him. We got to my backyard and he hugged me goodbye. I hadn't noticed that Charles Wallace was out there, too. Unfortunately Charles Wallace noticed us. He went up to Duncan and said, "Are you going to sleep with my sister?" Duncan stuttered a bit and then ran, then I ran after Charles Wallace. My mother stopped me before I could do much damage, and reminded me that I had to do the red.
The red doesn't actually look that bad. Charles Wallace said I looked sort of like Agent Scully, if she were taller and geekier. My mother sighed: I used to watch The X-Files with her when I was little, and once I said I wanted to be a pathologist. My mother thought that meant I wanted to be a doctor, and she was disappointed when I decided to be an English major.

Sharper than a serpent's tooth

Finally, Arne is leaving. My mother and father threw him out last night, when Charles Wallace mentioned the "cans" remark. Between that, and the "surveillance," they'd had enough. If they'd only asked me, he'd had been out sometime before St. Patrick's Day. Charles Wallace is predictably upset, as his current career goal is to be an evil mastermind and he thought Arne was giving him good experience. Arne's staying with Ivar until he can get an apartment. I'm imagining what a perfect apartment for him would look like, but imagination, and the limits of the Criminal Code, are running short right now.

Hot pink distorted

Friday had every indication of being a not totally horrible day. For one thing, I didn't have to go to drama club. When I was on my way to the library after classes, though, Mirabell stopped me in the hall.
"Is your hair permanent or wash-out?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" I said. He replied that he knew it wasn't my real colour. "How do you know?"
"Public school photographs are part of your Ontario Student Record. So, can you wash the colour out?" I said yes. "Good. I need you to be a redhead by Monday." He walked away quickly after that. He didn't seem quite so much like an extortionist back in February. When I got outside, Arne and Charles Wallace were waiting for me, with my mother's car.
"Oh hell, not again!" Arne had me get into the driver's seat, and directed me over to the medical building. It seems Charles Wallace had explained to him that private detectives often use multiple cars in surveillance, so Arne asked my mother if he could borrow her car for the day, claiming that he was going to teach me to parallel park. "If I'm going to have to play detective again, I get to go to the drugstore. I need hair colour." I left the two of them next to the elevator bank while I bought hair colour. I thought about asking someone for help, but the only person there was the pharmacist and anyone with a bowl cut couldn't possibly help with current styling questions. When I got out to the hall way, Arne looked disappointed. The dentist had gone early, or something, and wasn't in. We got into the car and drove over to the LCBO. While Arne was inside, Charles Wallace started smirking.
"Mike Pearson said his brother's in the play with you..."
"Right, his brother plays Macbeth."
"Well, Macbeth said you were really hot and told Macduff that he wouldn't mind breaching his recognizance with you, if you know what he means, or something like that." Great.
"You know, I'm beginning to hate drama with the power of a thousand suns." Charles Wallace always gets science similes better than regular ones. Arne came back into the car with three bottles of something cheap. He started talking about the Milborough retirement circuit.
"I'm getting into some good information here. Did you know that there's an absolutely hot babe in this high school Shakespeare? Some geezer's grandson talked about her all during his visit last night." I turned red.
"Can't people in this miserable excuse for a town find something other than my cleavage to talk about?" At that, Arne turned red and apologized.
"You know Milborough: everything gets around. First it's the guy who took down the hundred teenagers at the Valhalla, now it's your cans. I should go to the Valhalla--they must need a.."
"An idiot?" I asked.
"No, I was thinking they needed a magician. I wonder how Thorvald McGuire feels about Swedes..."
Enid says I'm really lucky I don't have to do anything like in the Macbeth film she had to see for class. Due to my sudden change of hair colour, going to Toronto Sunday evening is off, so instead I'm going in Saturday early to help Enid with a photography project at Mount Pleasant. I should call Duncan to see if he wants to come too.

Vision thing

Why I even bother to get up some days astounds me. After a predictably boring day in classes, drama club hit. When I entered the practice room, Mirabell said, "Zandra, Dirne's been helping me find your costume. Try this on." He handed me a hanger with what looked like a garment bag. I took it to the washroom and put it on, then walked out to Mirabell and Dirne. Mirabell said, "Very bold, Dirne. The classic black suits the sombre mood of the play, and the neckline says 'latent evil.' But I'm not sure about the backlessness--we're not all that sure that Lady Macbeth had a tattoo. Maybe for Antony and Cleopatra..."I hated the dress, and felt so exposed, and told him so. "My dear," Mirabell said, "what on earth do you think's keeping Macbeth with you? It's not your English grades. We need to convey your sexual manipulativeness, and the classic little black dress was, I thought, the best way." I scowled a bit. Mirabell sidled slightly closer to me. "I think it'll work for the coming fall's Antony and Cleopatra. And, I dare say, Sandra, this fall you may still have that overwhelming urge to go to university, and you'll be able to convey that frustration via the Bard. Again." I went back to change, and bumped into Duncan on the way. He started to apologize, realized it was me, and then started staring at my chest. I guess it's more of that controlling from beyond stuff.
After the practice, I went out front since my mother was going to take me home. Instead, Arne was out waiting by the passenger side of his car. I asked what the hell he was doing, and he said he was on a job, and needed me to drive since he was undercover. He couldn't have been that undercover since Charles Wallace was in the back seat. Arne had me drive around downtown a few times, then follow a Bushwhacker very, very slowly. "He'll never see us coming," Arne said.
"No, nobody ever notices a blue and yellow 1988 T-Bird going 20 klicks coming," Charles Wallace said. At least the little twerp was enjoying himself. After a few passes around the block after the Bushwhacker (which really was circling a little house on a big lot), we slowed down even more as the Bushwhacker pulled into a driveway. "It's the dentist!" Charles Wallace yelled."Is he dangerous?" Arne asked."Only if you pay attention to anything he says," Charles Wallace answered. He had to see the crazy dentist once, with an emergency. The dentist told him that talent was dangerous, since it led to ambition and loneliness. Charles Wallace asked him if he was happy being a talentless dentist then. After that, the dentist took to hiding from Charles Wallace. We finally got home, and I went to my room and played The Downward Spiral until I cheered up a bit.

Cold comfort

Mirabell says my costume is a surprise. I don't like the sound of that. The boys in the cast get to find their own costumes, more or less. Duncan looks pretty good in his kilt, for one thing. We got a new Donalbain today. The old Donalbain finished probation, and so now Officer Luggsworth's little brother Brent is in the cast. Duncan wasn't happy about that, since he and Luggsworth have some issues. I looked in on Duncan after Macbeth killed him. He seemed so happy.
Dinner was quiet. My father's at the office doing the accountant thing, and my mother got a phonecall during the meal. "Oh yes, Nigel, I'll tell Don about that. He's in the office now, if you want to drop everything off." It was Mr. Anderson, leaving a message for my father about his tax documents.
"Have you ever felt compelled to do things you don't want to?" Arne asked after dinner. I said no. "Well, do you want to?" He's planning a hypnosis trick, since he's getting bored with what he does on the sunset circuit. "They keep calling me Malcolm--I don't get it," he said. Then he said, "I've got some hush-hush work on the side, anyway. Top secret." Charles Wallace asked him what it was. "Damn! Well, you tortured it out of me. I'm watching some crazy guy in a Bushwhacker. It seems he's been stalking the brother of someone at the Memorial Home, and they want to know why. I can't understand why anyone in an obvious car would stalk some old guy's house, but go figure." Then Arne ran out and took off in his car. Much later, my father came home and said to my mother that it had to happen that the year he does the Anderson's taxes for free, they have foreign investments. My father really gets wrapped up over accounting.

Sound and fury, signifying nothing

I really, really hate drama club. Yesterday Jerome had some girl help him with the effects and lights, and at one point she kept lighting my cardigan rather than my hands. "Stop, stop," Mirabell said. "Can the lights. Right now you're making it seem that Lady Macbeth just wants to clean her catfur off." Then he looked at me. "Zandra, we really need to think about your costume." I told him I'd find something myself. "No you don't," he said, "I don't need Lady Macbeth looking like a cheap Edward Gorey governess." Then he went to yell at Macbeth a bit.
Duncan looked depressed all during rehearsal. His old band is trying to get itself together again, and he said it wasn't working. He said they all seem to be playing different stuff at once and it sounded awful. Actually, it sounded pretty good to me, and I told him that. Maybe he should focus on some lyrics that express his frustration with being manipulated by things beyond his control. "That happened yesterday," he said. "For some reason I just wanted to stare at Eva's chest when April brought her when we were jamming." Maybe that's why Jerome keeps staring at my back. It's not like you can actually see my tattoo under my shirt and cardigan.