Chapter 17: The List

The whole company looked at me.

Delphine waited with her hand on her heart. Her lawyer waited with his briefcase.

"Read it," I said. "I'll be there."

She blinked.

"Front row," I said. "Take your time with the fire part. I know how it ends."

The man who played our father laughed out loud, and then looked horrified at himself.

The director sat back down.

"Places," she said. "Ms. Sorrell, you're late."

That was Day 17.

I had thirteen days left, and a list in the back of my notebook with two lines still uncrossed.

I wrote three letters that week.

I wrote them at Goldie's kitchen table after she'd gone to bed.

One for Goldie. One for Briggs. One for Birdie, for her birthday.

I sealed them and wrote the names on the front and hid them in my script bag, under Mara's blue dress.

"Host," said the System, while I licked the last envelope. "Twelve days, two hours."

"I know."

It was quiet for a moment.

"I will note your absence, Host."

I put the envelope down.

In ten years it had never said anything like that.

"Thank you," I said. "That's nice."

"It is not nice. It is accurate."

Tech week started on Day 24.

On Day 26 we ran the kitchen fight with full lights for the first time.

I came on for Mara's last speech, and the light hit me.

A big lamp on the side rail was off its mark. Somebody had swung it down to chest height.

At my scarred side.

The heat sat on my shoulder and my neck.

For one second I was twenty-two, under a makeup counter.

Upstage, Delphine waited for her cue with her face very calm.

The lighting designer swore into his headset. "Who moved number nine? Hold..."

"Don't hold," I said.

I didn't step out of it.

I turned my bare shoulder full into that lamp and played the speech straight into the light.

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