A/N: Hey, guys. Still adjusting to all of this! Oddly enough, I'm writing this chapter as I watch The Producers.

Also, guys, the distinctions between where the story's set haven't been clear, as I've noticed. I will try to fix that. Like I said, still adjusting. Tell me if you think it's good other than some mistakes!

She had always suspected someday it'd come to this. She'd just hoped she wouldn't have walked in on it. She had suspected it when he'd been stealing the dresses she used to wear when they were in high school – she was very into dresses at one point.

"All right, I know it!" A teenage Wade had yelled, storming into her older brother's room. "The jig is up!"

"What are you talking about?" Roger had asked, giving her a weird stare.

"My dresses! I know you've been stealing them to tick me off!"

"Not to tick you off, but rather to protect you. If I ever want to be seen with you, you can't be seen in those ugly things."

She was frozen. "I don't know whether to be thankful or appalled." She squeaked out after a while.

It was a weird memory, but she had always had a sense that he wasn't just being generous.

"Care to explain?" Wade looked up at the ceiling, sighing. Marc was still gawking at him.

"Your brother's in a dress." He shook his head, snapping out of it.

"Yep."

"Why are you not shocked?"

"Marc, welcome to reality."

"I should explain." Roger sighed, walking over to Wade, Carmen behind him. "I'm going to the Choreographer's Ball tomorrow night. There is a prize for best costume."

"We always win." Carmen smiled a bit smugly.

"You know, I design costumes." Marc blurted out, probably hoping to impress a certain somebody. "Wade is kind of my muse. So who are you supposed to be dressed as?"

The thin dark pink dress…the red flower with the black veil below it…

"You idiot," Wade nudged Marc, "he's dressed as Pippa Middleton."

Roger shrugged proudly.

"Look, let's just get dinner over with." Wade shook her head, laughing a little bit.

[Setting: The Hotel...]

"That was a pretty nice dinner." Marc grinned as he excitedly entered the hotel room.

"If you say so," Wade rolled her eyes, smiling as well, "besides the whole Pippa shocker."

"Speaking of." He turned sharply, revealing a kit full of sewing materials, glitter, and broken glass.

"Where did you get those?"

"Kevin gave them to me."

Wade stared at him.

"Borrowed them."

Still no response.

"Okay, stole them."

"What are you thinking about, Marc? Is this a nutty London plan?"

"Wade, we both know you came here for three reasons. One, for a career. We'll find that out tomorrow. Two, to rid yourself of being in your brother's shadow. Three, to be daring and be a whole new you. I mean, the most daring thing I'd ever seen you do was conk me on the head with a toy truck in the sandbox the day we first met in kindergarten."

"That was a good day."

"Point being, you're going to go to that Choreographer's Ball and upstage him."

"But I could never do that!"

"Right. You couldn't!"

"Then why do you want me—"

"Wade Michiko DeBris couldn't do it. But Glimmer Stareagles could! The last name is because you can't be tied down to any one place, like a soaring eagle."

"Glimmer Stareagles? Is that a drag queen?"

"No. It's you. That'll be your alter ego. You'll wear a mask so no one can identify you."

"Who am I going to be dressed as?"

"A naughty schoolgirl." Marc rolled his eyes. "No, only one person could be Glimmer Stareagles."

Wade thought it over for a minute. "That's what the broken glass is for, isn't it?"

"Let's get going, toots, we've got nothing to lose!"

[Setting: Schubert Theatre...]

"I can't believe it." Marc squealed. "We got the parts!"

"I know I was brilliant." Wade twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "I can believe it."

"After last night, you're pretty confident, aren't you?"

"Pretty confident doesn't cut it, sweetheart."

"Wade," Max came up to her, "Marc, how are you guys?"

"Peachy keen, jelly bean." Wade wiggled her eyebrows at him playfully. Marc just nodded. She paused, though.

Did I just tell Max Bialystock "Peachy keen, jelly bean?", she thought remorsefully. Oy vey!

He looked at her, a bit confused, but shook his head and looked her in the eye. "Well, your scripts are somewhere here, if Leo can find them."

"I'm working on it, Max!" Leo called from somewhere in the theater.

Wade giggled. "Well, when he does find them, we'll get right to work, okay?"

Max nodded, rolling his eyes, heading off to help Leo, as did the blonde woman.

She noticed her brother and Carmen talking with a guy in a German helmet and dragged Marc towards them.

"Hello, Mr. German Guy." Wade smiled. "I'm Wade DeBris and this is Marc London."

"Franz Liebkind." The German guy stuck his hand in the air.

"Wait, this guy's a Nazi?" Marc whispered to Roger, who nodded.

"Who are you?" Wade asked him.

"Ze aussor of 'Streetcar!'"

"Oh!" She nodded. "That's interesting! I think I remember you being there at the auditions."

Suddenly, a bird perched on Franz's shoulder.

"Um, Mr. Liebkind, there's a bird on your shoulder." Wade motioned to it.

"Oh, zis is just my pet bird, Adolf!"

She was taken aback. "Okay."

"Don't feel too frightened, dear sister," Roger looked at her, "he does this to everyone."

"Vatch it!" He stormed off.

"Touchy." She sighed.

"Listen, Wade, I have a proposition for you." Roger looked at her. "Would you and Marc like to come to the Choreographer's Ball tonight? Max, Leo, and Ulla will be there."

"Who's Ulla?"

"Oh, that's Leo's wife." He motioned to the blonde woman Wade had been wondering about. "Are you going to come?" He asked her once more.

She and Marc exchanged glances. "We're going to be very busy." He nodded. "Running lines. And there's a Vivien Leigh film festival on tonight that I can't miss. Need to brush up on my Streetcar."

"If you wish." He sighed, a bit dejectedly.

"Luck of the Irish to you, though, Roger!" He beamed.

"Are you Irish?"

"No, but I know a bunch of Irish people!"

"I don't think it works that way, Marc." Wade murmured.

"Roger!" Leo called nervously. "We're going to need your help here!"

"I'm needed elsewhere." Roger nodded at them.

"Wait, would you maybe want my help?" Marc asked, his eyes fixated on Carmen.

Roger glanced at Leo and Ulla, who were tearing apart the theater trying to find the scripts, Leo a bit more frantically. "We're going to need all the help we can get." He started towards them, Carmen shuffling behind him, Marc winking at Wade before he followed.

Wade smiled and rolled her eyes. She then noticed Max, sitting alone, his head in his hands, and nervously headed towards him.

"Are you okay?" She asked, sitting down beside him.

"Peachy keen, jelly bean." He looked at her a bit coldly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I guess this isn't a good time, Wade thought, starting to walk away.

"Wait. Stop. Sit back down. I'm just a bit stressed."

"Nothing's been going right."

"Like what, if you don't mind my asking?"

"First of all, I had to pleasure more old ladies than ever before to get the money for this theater."

Wade snickered. "I'm sorry, did you just say 'pleasuring old ladies?' That's how you get the money?"

"It's what you have to do. I feel bad for you, coming out here so naïve."

"No, it's not that," she laughed, "it's just so hilarious."

"Yeah, you try dealing with them!" She could tell Max was hiding a smile that threatened to explode on his face.

"I'm not going to say that doesn't sound so bad, because it does, but is there anything else you're having trouble with?"

"Well, for one thing, all the negotiations. You know, getting Roger to star and direct and getting Franz to give us Streetcar."

"I wonder why he decided to do it."

"Because the real story by Williams is just so old and outdated. We needed to give it a little pizzazz."

"Hence, the strippers."

"I don't see anybody complaining."

"There's those who don't complain and there's those like Roger, Carmen, and Marc who just don't care."

"Guy like him?" Max pointed to Marc, who was trying to find the scripts and lingering as close to Carmen as he could.

"If he denies it, he's bluffing." Wade smirked. "Anyways, what else do you want to talk to me about?"

"Then I had to fight with Roger about the casting of you two because he didn't want any bad publicity surrounding the show."

"Bad publicity?" She frowned.

"Nothing against you personally, but he felt like some people might think he was casting unfairly because you're his sister and Marc's your friend. Of course, we all thought you were talented, but Leo and I were vouching for you the hardest."

So it was Max who chose me for Sophie, Wade thought, feeling warmth inside of her that she didn't understand. "Well, thank you."

"No problem. And for our latest problem and obviously not last problem, Leo misplaced the scripts, the klutz."

"We've got a five-person team on it right now. They should find them eventually."

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it. Are you going to be at the Choreographer's Ball tonight? Since you're Roger's sister and all."

"No. Marc's making me stay home so we can run lines and watch the Vivien Leigh film festival."

"Interesting." Max narrowed his eyes at her. "Hey, did you ever think about changing your name?"

Why? Is my name not…" Wade struggled to find the right word, but her thoughts were interrupted.

"No, your name is great, but it's a man's name, Wade. Have you ever considered that? You could be a Rachel or a Diana or a Charlotte."

Rachel Michiko DeBris. Diana Michiko DeBris. Charlotte Michiko DeBris. To her, they all sounded better than Wade.

"I'm not pressuring you." Max jumped back a bit, thinking that the reason Wade hadn't responded was because she was offended. "I was just thinking out loud. But I guess I'd better keep my big mouth shut."

"No, it's fine, Mr. Bialystock."

"Max, please."

"Um…Max," she blushed a bit, "now that you mention it, I did think a lot about it when I was younger. High school especially. There was a girl, really popular, name of Lisa. She would always mock me because of my name. She'd call me 'Fem Boy' and pretty soon everybody else did."

"I'm no stranger to that kind of thing. Everyone used to call me 'Fatso.'"

"That's terrible. I'm sure, being where you are now, you definitely feel better about the mocking. I mean, are any of those people anywhere near the social rank you're at?"

"I guess not. What about that girl?"

"Lisa? Haven't gotten her back yet. I haven't really thought of ways to and Marc is just encouraging me to let it go, but I can tell he really wants me to get her back based on what they called him in high school." Wade thought for a minute. "Lisa, she used to have a crush on my brother. I think I should send her a picture of him in the Pippa clothes with Carmen, see how she reacts."

Max chuckled. "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

"As I've learned."

"Max!" Leo exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the theater. "I found them! I found them!"

"You did?" Marc rushed over to Leo, accidentally on purpose brushing against Carmen.

"I guess I need to go take care of that." Max got up. As did Wade. "I'll see you tomorrow. Read your script and get up early."

"Will do." She nodded, looking happy on the outside. But on the inside, she thought, No, don't go! I want to talk to you more!

It felt pathetic to her, the longing of wanting to talk to Max more. But it stayed inside of her.

Wade shook the feeling off and headed up to the stage to talk to Marc about the script.

[Setting: The Choreographer's Ball...]

"You feeling good?" Marc asked in the car on the way to the location Roger had said the Choreographer's Ball was the other night.

"I'm dressed as Lady Gaga, competing against my brother dressed as Pippa Middleton to win a prize for the best costume." Wade grinned, looking at Marc, though he couldn't tell since she was wearing dark shades. They had thought of a new plan: instead of a mask, she'd wear shades for the entire night to make her look more like Gaga. They'd gone for the mirror dress, which is why she was wearing glass shards and sparkly grayish fabric. "I'm feeling great."

To tell the truth, what Wade was most worried about was running into Max there. Since their conversation at the Schubert Theatre, where Streetcar was being performed, she'd been thinking about him all day. Marc didn't know what was up with her, but for all Wade cared, he could take it up with Carmen.

"That's an attitude I like!" He squeezed her shoulder. "Are you ready to make an entrance, you nut?"

"Only if you are." Wade took in the sight of Marc: he was wearing all black, a bit like Carmen, and had shades on just like her so no one could identify him and put two and two together. He had chosen to be addressed as Elliot St. James, although he had added, "Though I'm anything but a saint, if anyone asks." Though she doubted anyone would, Wade agreed to pass the message on.

They both stepped out of the car. Wade got a few glances, but everyone there was dressed crazily and she was no big deal.

Good, she thought. I want to stay out of sight until I'm called onstage as the winner.

"I'm really thirsty." She sighed once she entered. "I'm going to go find a drink. Go entertain yourself, Ma—Elliot."

"Will do, Miss Stareagles." He nodded at her.

As she made her way over to where the drinks were, she giggled. Miss Stareagles, she smiled. I like that. Miss Glimmer Stareagles.

While she was drinking, she noticed a familiar face, somebody who wasn't in costume, but who Wade knew wasn't going to be.

"Max!" She called, but she covered her mouth at the last minute.

Max turned in her direction and walked over to her.

Oh, God, he's going to find out who I am and I'm totally gonna be busted and my brother's gonna hate me and Marc's gonna hate me and Max will think I avoided him and—

"Do I know you?"