Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.
Tina stared glumly into her scrambled eggs. Nathaniel nudged her lightly. "What's got you down?" he asked.
"Nothing," she sighed. "I'm just scared that I won't remember my lines during dress rehearsal tonight. I keep running them through my head and I forget to eat."
"You only have eleven lines," Thad said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. "You'll be fine."
"You can try writing them out," Zooey suggested shyly. "That's how I learn mine."
"You could always paraphrase," Quinn shrugged. "As long as it means the same, I'm sure it's fine."
Thad whipped around so quickly it probably gave him whiplash. "Are you serious, Fabray?" he said. "You can't do that. A playwright chooses each word with precision and care. You can't just…just sum it up."
"The audience won't know the difference," Quinn said. Thad attacked his bacon with a vengeance, grumbling under his breath.
Tina sat up. "Why is the camp director coming over here?" she asked.
Zooey blanched. "Are…are we in trouble?" she said.
The brunette camp director strolled over to them. "Morning, kids," she smiled. "How are things going? Ready for dress rehearsal?"
"Mostly," Thad said, shooting a glare at Quinn. She forced a smile at him.
Evangeline didn't notice. "Nathaniel, I have a question for you," she said. "How would you like to be an ASM for next week's show?"
Nathaniel straightened up. "I'd love to," he said. "Thank you."
She patted his shoulder. "Come to my office during free time on Sunday," she said. "I've asked a girl from the dance cabin as well, so the two of you will be working together. We'll plan out our week then." Evangeline adjusted her thick-framed glasses and smiled at the others, offering a wave. "See you, kids."
Zooey visibly deflated. "Oh my goodness, I thought we were in trouble," she sighed.
"What's an ASM?" Tina asked, curious.
"An assistant stage manager," Nathaniel explained. "See, Evangeline works as the stage manager for every show, and she picks two campers each week to be her ASMs. It's kind of a big deal."
"And then," Thad said, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "for the end of the summer extravaganza, she picks the person that she thought was the best ASM to be the stage manager for the show. And that is a huge deal."
"Congratulations, then," Tina said. "That's awesome."
Thad whirled around, gesturing with his fork. "Tina, what's your cue to enter for your first scene?" he demanded.
Tina stared blankly at him for a second. "Oh my god," she said. "I…I…"
"It's okay, I'll help you," Zooey said hastily, pulling her script out of her tote bag.
"All right, you guys," Shelby called. "Team building time. Everyone excited?"
The Silver Snakes cheered; Blaine joined in half-heartedly. Wes elbowed him. "Stop staring at Karofsky," he whispered. "You're acting like a creeper."
"I can't help it," Blaine whispered back.
"He's not going to suddenly flip out or anything," Wes whispered. "The guy hasn't even said two words so far this week."
"Gentlemen," Shelby warned. "No talking while I'm talking." Francey grinned at them fiendishly from behind Shelby's shoulder; both boys clammed up instantly.
"Now, the objective of this team building exercise is for you guys to cross this ropes course without anyone falling over," Shelby said. "If someone falls off, then Francey is going to tie a bandana on you. If she picks an arm, you can't use that arm. She might tie your legs together. Or she could blindfold you."
Mercedes raised her hand. "Hold up," she said. "Are you trying to kill us?"
"I'm trying to get you guys to work together," Shelby said. "If you see somebody falling, you need to help them out." She clapped her hands. "All right, you guys, line up."
Jo immediately made a dash for the line, dragging Wes behind her. "What are you doing, Joanna?" Wes protested.
"I'm making sure you're behind me, Wesley," Jo said. "If I fall, I'm probably going to fall backwards, and you had better catch me."
"This is too much pressure," Wes complained.
"Hush up, Chang," Mercedes said. She got in line behind him, then beckoned to Blaine. "Mr. Warbler, you're gonna catch me, all right?"
"You do remember my last name is Anderson, don't you?" Blaine pointed out.
"Warbler is funnier," Mercedes shrugged.
Blaine opened his mouth to protest further, but clamped his lips shut as the other campers filed in behind him. Of course, he fumed mentally. Of course David Karofsky would end up directly behind me.
"Stop staring at it! It's not going to bite you!" Francey shouted. "Get on up there!"
She pinched the first camper in line, a lanky guy with shaggy hair. Startled, he hopped onto the first of the tall stepping-stones, latching onto the rope above to keep his balance. "See? Was that so hard?" Francey said. "There you go. Keep going. You, there. Yes, you. Stop staring at clouds and get a move on, you're next."
Blaine gritted his teeth as they moved up in line, ignoring the cheerful argument going on between his friends. He could feel Karofsky's eyes boring into his back, and he resisted the urge to shiver. Or turn around and clock the guy, whichever impulse won first.
Mercedes gingerly took hold of the rope. "Blaine, if you see me so much as lean, you'd better catch me," she threatened.
"I got it, I got it," he said.
She pulled herself up to the first stepping block and hopped to the next one, swinging the rope back in his direction. "Catch!" she said.
He caught the rope easily and pulled himself with one smooth motion. Without looking back he stepped to the next one and swung the rope towards Karofsky.
Ahead of him, Wes wavered atop one of the taller blocks and tipped over. "Jo!" he scolded, sprawled out ungracefully on his back. "This deal was supposed to go both ways!"
"Sorry," she apologized.
"Wesley, guess who gets his legs tied together?" Francey singsonged, pulling a bright orange bandana off her belt and snapping it in his face.
He sighed heavily. "This sucks," he said as she tied his ankles together expertly.
"It sucks for you, but it's more fun for me to watch," Francey grinned.
Blaine laughed as Wes struggled to get back to his block, both Jo and Mercedes stretching to help him. He was still keenly aware of Karofsky's stare; he scratched the back of his neck as though he could get rid of the strange crawling feeling that way.
He took another step forward, swinging on the rope with his feet high above the ground. "Yeah, get it, Tarzan," Mercedes teased.
He grinned and let out a mimic of a Tarzan yell, making Jo laugh. "Come on, Babbie, stop showing off and keep going," Francey said.
The tips of his ears flushed red. "You can't call me that!" he said.
She swatted at his butt affectionately. "I can do whatever I like," she said. "Keep it moving."
He rolled his eyes. "Keep an eye on your teammates," Shelby called. "Don't let anybody fall. You're doing good so far."
"Hey, toss the rope?"
He glanced over his shoulder to see Karofsky behind him, waiting to move. Without thinking Blaine let go of the rope. It swung back, but not far enough for him to reach. Karofsky leaned too far forward and stumbled to the ground, earning a disappointed cry from the campers behind him. He looked up at Blaine.
"Oops," Blaine said.
But he regretted it as Karofsky dropped his head and Francey moved to tie a green bandana around his wrist. He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have been so childish.
Kurt's going to be disappointed in me, he thought.
Puck jogged down the path. "Quinn," he called. "Hey, Quinn, wait up."
The blonde glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes shielded by large dark sunglasses. The other girls walking with her stopped; the tiny brunette quickly hiding behind Quinn. "Hey, Puck," Tina said.
"Hey," he said. "Listen, Quinn, can I talk to you?"
She shrugged. Tina glanced from her to Puck and took the tiny brunette by the arm. "Come on, Zooey," she said. "We can go work on our lines. Q, meet you in the dressing room?"
"Sure," Quinn said, still looking at Puck. She waited for the other girls to disappear further down the path before speaking again; Puck shifted his weight anxiously. "So what do you want, Puckerman? We've got to get to dress rehearsal."
"It's important," he said. He took her by the elbow and steered her towards the shade of a tall tree. "Really important."
She folded her arms. "What kind of important?" she asked warily.
Puck took a deep breath. "Shelby Corcoran's one of the counselors here," he said.
She stared at him coolly.
"Well?" he said.
"Well, what?"
"Well, I don't know, aren't you supposed to…react or something?" Puck asked.
"Why should I care that the old Vocal Adrenaline coach is here?" Quinn said, one finely sculpted brow arching over her sunglasses.
Puck gaped at her. "Holy shit, Quinn," he said. "Don't you care?"
"Care about what?"
He took a step towards her. "Shelby has our kid," he said. "Don't you want to know how she's doing? I mean, she's a year old now. She's probably walking and talking and-"
"Puck, I don't want to discuss this with you," Quinn interrupted sharply. She turned away from him and headed down the path.
He followed her. "Come on, Quinn, don't you care about her?" he pressed. "Don't you ever think about Beth? Our Beth?"
She turned around sharply. "This isn't up for discussion, Puck," she said, her voice rising. She stalked away from him, her blonde ponytail swinging rapidly back and forth. He stood in the middle of the path, shoulders slumping, and watched her walk away.
Finn fumbled through the darkness of the wings and tripped for the umpteenth time. "Ow!"
"Sorry, sorry," he apologized.
A blurry figure stood up in the darkness. "Finn?" Rachel whispered.
He paused and grinned. "Hey," he said. "You sound really good tonight."
"Finn, I was only in the chorus," she said.
He shrugged. "I can always hear you," he said.
Her smile shone in the dark. "Really?" she said hopefully.
"Yeah," he said. "You always sing so loud and stuff."
The smile faltered. "It's called projecting," she said. She glanced towards the stage as a boy and a girl sang their romantic duet. "That was the part I was supposed to get."
He followed her gaze. "They sound all right, I guess," he said. He nudged her lightly. "You would have been better."
She ducked her head; he could practically see her blushing. He sidled closer. "So…you and Jesse aren't…"
"Aren't what?'
"Aren't…you know, dating," he finished awkwardly. "God, I didn't mean to just blurt that out."
"No, we're not dating," she said. She sighed. "I don't know what's going on in his head lately. He didn't talk to me after Nationals, and now he's just…everywhere."
Finn frowned. "I don't like him," he said flatly. "He's no good."
Another figure materialized in the darkness. "What my brother means is that Jesse's no good for you, and he would be much better," Kurt whispered between them. "But you two will have to finish this conversation later, because Rachel and I have to go sing."
"Dude, why aren't you in costume?" Finn asked.
"They're not done altering them yet," Kurt said. "Believe me, though, you do not want to see me in it. It's horrendous." He tugged on Rachel's arm. "Come along, Fraulein Maria."
Kurt propelled her to the edge of the wings in preparation for their cue. Finn could see her take a deep breath and close her eyes. He leaned against the rigging, watching her mouth her opening lines.
A hand reached out and smacked him across the back of the head. "Out of my flies, Hudson," Lauren said as she passed by.
Finn straightened. "Sorry," he whispered loudly.
Author's Notes:
Sweet lord! I'm already behind!
Please forgive the lateness of this chapter; I spent yesterday at my parents' house celebrating Father's Day early and spent today ripping organza fabric into strips (my job can be weird sometimes). But hopefully I'll be right back on track soon enough!
Have any of you ever been an ASM before? That job nearly gave me a heart attack, not going to lie. I ASM'd a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat once. Gah. Never again. I was not cut out for stage management.
And also it is late and I am tired, so this is a brief author's note. Keep reading; I'll try to update soon!
(Although I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't ask me when I'm going to update. It stresses me out like whoa, man!)