The Knife Thrower

by MySoapBox

All-in-all the talent show was going well. The juggler didn't kick over the footlights like he had in rehearsal and the strobe light went off without a hitch during the Michael Jackson tribute dance number. There was only one second of ear piercing feedback during the improv troupe's skit, but that was their own fault for laying down on the stage right in front of the sound monitors. Mrs. Benson made a pretty decent MC, though some of her jokes could use work, but the house was full and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Now, the only act left was the Amazing Francos and Chuck was starting to breathe a sigh of relief.

Becky's Dad took the stage with a swish of his cape and a flourish. Two tricks in and he had the audience ooh'ing an ah'ing in amazement. Chuck had to admit, that while his sleight of hand was a bit slow, the guy had style, and his assistant was beautiful and perfect.

It wasn't until the trick with the disappearing cabinet that they had trouble. Becky got into the cabinet, Mr. Franco waved his cape and tapped his wand on the cabinet door and that was a lighting cue for Chuck, but when he hit the switches, there was a pop and all the lights on the right side of the theater went dark. There was a gasp from the audience and Morgan quickly widened the spotlight to compensate for the darkened area of the stage. Mr. Franco recovered quickly, chuckled to the audience and said "the show must go on," and once the crowd had settled dow he opened the cabinet door to show his daughter was gone. The crowd cheered. Chuck knew from watching their rehearsals that he had about three tricks, including a lengthy card trick involving an audience member, before Becky would reappear "magically" in time for her knife throwing bit, and he wanted to be positive they had full lighting for that.

He jumped up from the soundboard and trotted over to where Morgan was running the spotlight. "It's probably the breaker again. I'll be right back."

Chuck quickly took the back door out of the theater and headed down the deserted hallways to janitors closet where he knew the breaker box to be. He flipped on the light and the door automatically shut behind him. The breaker box was already sitting open. He ran his fingers down the ancient switches as he looked to see if any were out of place, and sure enough, there was the popped one. With a quick flip, the breaker was reset. He dashed for the door and shoved it open, but instead of swinging open like he'd expected, it bounced back at him with a thump and a crash, and someone on the other side let out a squeak of surprise.

"Oh my gosh!" Chuck pushed open the door, slowly this time and saw his victim splayed out on the hallway floor. "Becky? I am so, so, sorry!" He reached his hand to her and pulled her to her feet. "Are you okay?"

Becky started to dust herself off. "Fine, Chuck, I'm fine. I should have been watching where I was going."

"It's my fault; I'm the one that came running out of a closet. Hey, aren't you supposed to be backstage?"

"I am. I was. I mean. Yes, I am. I have to be on stage. I have to go," she said, and she hurried back down the hallway.

Chuck headed the opposite direction towards the sound booth. He felt awful about knocking Becky down and cursed his own clumsiness. At least she was okay. He stepped into the theater and saw that all the lights had indeed turned back on and Mr. Franco was busy on stage pulling doves out of a hat and from behind his cape. Morgan sat at the sound and light board. "Hey," he whispered as Chuck approached. "The lights came back on, but then my spot ight went out. Can you imagine our rotten luck? I guess I shouldn't have had it at full power – circuit overload. Go check the breaker again."

"You've got that plugged into the bathroom right," Chuck asked.

"You got it." Morgan confirmed enthusiastically. "More of my genius."

"Genius, yeah. I'll be right back."

Chuck hurried back out the doors and towards the closet when something caught his eye. Mrs. Benson's office door was partially opened, when he was sure it had been closed when he passed by just a minute ago. Then he saw the flash of a dim light through the window of the door. Chuck knew that Mrs. Benson was MC'ing the talent show and he knew she kept her office locked, so even though he was in a hurry to get back to the soundboard, he decided that he needed to check it out.

Deciding stealth was his best option, Chuck flattened himself against the hallway wall and scooted along until he was close to the ajar door. He stopped when he heard movement inside the office. Very slowly he peered around the edge of the door to try to see through the glass, but it was privacy glass so he only saw a blurry shadow. He flattened himself back against the wall and then counted to himself, one… two… three…. On three he took a deep breath flung open the door, switched on the light and said, "You shouldn't be in here!"

A flashlight clattered to the ground. "Chuck!"

"Becky?" She was standing there, eyes wide, wearing her ruffled shirt, holding a grey metal box. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be getting ready to go back on stage?"

"You know, you're right. I have to go." She made to pass Chuck who was standing between her and the door.

"Wait a minute," Chuck said. "What do you have there?"

"This? Nothing. I just needed a bandaid. I was grabbing the first aid kit." She tucked the box more tightly into her arms.

"That's not the first aid kit."

"Sure it is. Mrs. Benson said that it'd be right here in her office."

"The first aid kit is in the janitor's closet. I was just in there resetting the breaker. You know it's white, with a big red cross on it. You can't miss it. You wouldn't want to use a bandaid out of that thing anyway; it's like fifty years old."

"Oh then, it doesn't matter." She put the grey box back on the desk. " I'm fine anyway. Just a hangnail. Let's get back out there. Don't you have a soundboard to run?"

Chuck wasn't going to be distracted. "How did you get in here, Becky? I know for a fact that that door was locked." He saw her eyes flicker to the door and then to the grey box. Something just wasn't right; he knew in his gut what it was, though he didn't want to believe it. "What are you doing?" he asked in a softer and lower tone.

"I… I was just…" Becky put one hand out placating. "Look, Chuck, it isn't what it looks like."

"It isn't?" Chuck scoffed, "Because it looks like you were trying to steal the auction money. Tell me it isn't true. Tell me that that isn't what is happening here."

Becky sighed and her shoulders fell; she took a step back. "I don't have any other choice, okay? My dad will kill me if I don't come back with the cash box." She looked at her watch, "and I only have, like, two more minutes before I'll miss my cue."

His head was spinning and his heart broke just a little bit."What do you mean Becky? Is your Dad some sort of criminal or something? Is he forcing you to steal for him?"

"Something like that." Her eyes grew hard and her whole countenance changed. "That's why you have to let me go. Pretend you didn't see me. Don't say anything. Just stay out of it." It sounded a little like a threat.

"I can't do that," Chuck said, gathering his courage. "That money is for the community center. They need that money to stay open. For lots of people, this is the only good thing they've got." He crossed his arms and blocked the door.

"But you've seen my dad. You know how angry he gets. I don't have any other choice."

"You always have a choice." Chuck took a deep breath. He needed her to trust him. "Look, we'll call the police. You can hide at my Dad's house or something."

"And go into the system? I don't think so. He's all I've got. "

Chuck dropped his arms and stepped towards her slowly, like he would a wild animal. "There must be a way."

Becky's posture softened. "Look. Here's what I'll do." Becky reached down and pulled the empty liner from the garbage can by the desk, and then opened up the cashbox and started emptying the contents into the garbage bag. "I don't want to steal from this place either. I'll take the cashbox and give it to my dad. He won't open it until we're gone. When it's empty I'll say I didn't know. That they must have moved the money. Then you can find the money somewhere and you can be the hero. We all win."

Chuck takes the bag she hands him. "But how about you? You're not safe with him."

She smiled a forced smile and then patted him on the arm. "Don't worry, Chuck. I can take care of myself. But I have to go. Now!" As she went to go, the grey box tucked discreetly under one arm, she stopped right in front of him. "Please don't say anything, Chuck. Please." And then she sprinted out of the office and towards the backstage door.

Chuck reached the tech booth just in time to raise the lights for Becky's surprise entrance. Becky's knife act went off without a hitch and the crowd roared with approval and gave them a standing ovation. And while Chuck watched Becky smile and take her second bow, so beautiful, so wonderful, with that crooked smile that he had grown so fond of, the conflict he had felt since their encounter a few minutes ago resolved, and he knew what he had to do.

xxoo00ooxx

When Chuck was done collecting all the microphones the last of the audience well-wishers were headed out the theater doors. He saw Becky shake one last hand, and the turn to head backstage. Her eyes met his, and they both froze for a second. Then Chuck approached her. "Can we talk?"

Becky bit her lower lip, but nodded, and followed Chuck up to a dark and empty corner of the theater.

A beat of silence passed between them where they couldn't meet each other's eyes and then Chuck said. "I'm not going to say anything."

"You're not?" Becky narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

Chuck shrugged. "The way I see it, you didn't take the money. You almost did it, but you didn't. And that's got to be worth something."

"Oh, Chuck!" She threw his arms around him and hugged him tight. Her hair tickled his nose and he knew he'd made the right decision. "Thank you. Thank you so much," she mumbled into his shirt. "I didn't want to do it."

"I know you didn't," he said, reaching up to stroke her hair.

"I didn't know what else to do."

"You did the right thing."

Becky pulled back. "Thank you for that."

"I'm just glad I was there when I was. But how about you? I'm worried about you."

Becky straightened her shirt. "I'll be fine. I know how to handle my dad."

"But you were so scared before. Is there someone you can talk to? Like your aunt?"

"My aunt?" Becky asked.

Chuck nodded, "The one in Las Vegas. Maybe you could talk to her, maybe she'd let you live with her for while."

Becky looked like she was thinking about it. "I'll talk to her," she conceded.

"You will?"

Becky smiled "Yeah. I will." She reached out and put her hand on his arm. "I think this is going to all work out. Don't you worry."

Chuck felt relief wash over him. The last thing he wanted was for Becky to be in danger, and her dad seemed like a dangerous man. But she seemed happy and she seemed confident, so he would trust her. He didn't know why, and he couldn't imagine what kind of life she was living, but deep in his heart, he trusted her.

"And how about you?" Becky continued. "Do you know how you are going to give them back the money."

"Yeah, I'll stash it somewhere backstage. They should find it soon enough and no one will know how it got there."

Becky squeezed his arm. "That sounds great, Chuck."

From across the theater came Becky's dad's voice. "You about ready there darlin"?"

Becky turned and yelled, "Coming dad." Then she turned back to Chuck. "I've got to go."

"Yeah," Chuck said. He couldn't stop the sadness from seeping into his voice.

Becky reached up and put her hand on his check. "Listen. I want to thank you for everything. You're a really amazing guy, Chuck. And I'm so, so sorry… for everything, truly."

Becky stood up on her toes and leaned in, and Chuck's heart started to hammer in his chest. Part of him wanted to pull away and run, but the bigger part of him, the part that won in the end, wanted him to lean in and meet her half way. The kiss was soft, and brief, and when Becky pulled back, Chuck realized he was trembling.

"Goodbye, Chuck," she said with a forced smile.

"Goodbye, Becky"

And then she turned and started walking down the aisle.

"Becky," he called after her. She stopped and turned. He still felt breathless. "Call me. When you are at your Aunt's. I just have to know you're safe."

Becky just nodded and walked away.

xxoo00ooxx

It was another hour before Mrs. Benson discovered the cash box was missing. Chuck was packing away the last of the microphones in their boxes when he heard the police had been called. It was Morgan, of all people, who discovered the small trash bag with cash in it, where Chuck had hidden it, tucked between some boxes behind the stage.

Everyone gathered to see the police dump out the contents and count the bills. When they counted out a little less than five hundred dollars, far short of the nearly twelve thousand that was collected at the silent auction, everyone was disappointed but Chuck collapsed into a chair in shock. He begged them to count it again, told them to look for another garbage bag. They must be missing something. He had seen it. He was sure. He had seen all of the money from the cashbox go into that bag. Hadn't he?

When it was confirmed that only $473 had been recovered Mrs. Benson started to cry and Chuck's heart broke. And even though his head was spinning and he felt like he might get sick, Chuck knew he had to do the right thing. It was then that the story came pouring out of him, consequences be damned. His dad was called and Chuck spent the next hour giving his statement to the police. He told them everything. When it was over, he wiped his eyes dry with his sleeve and presented his upturned wrists for the handcuffs; he was an accessory to the crime, after all; he was a patsy, a mule. But instead, the officer patted him on the back and thanked him for coming forward. In the end,his shame would be his only punishment.

It was late when his dad offered to drive him, but Chuck insisted on riding his bike home . He told his dad that he didn't want to risk leaving it over night. The truth was that he needed time.

When he reached his bike and started to unlock it, a small paper jammed between the frame and his gear box caught his eye. He unfolded the paper and something fell out. He looked down and saw a red and white friendship bracelet made out of a thousand little crisscrossing knots lying at his feet. He picked it up and, after examining it, he shoved it deep into his pocket, next to the other that rested here. He then read the paper written in rushed scrawl:

C-

By the time you read this you'll know the truth. I'm sorry. I have no other defense than to say that you showed me a life - family and home and good friends - that I want so desperately. This will help me have that. I want you to know that I didn't lie about everything. I didn't lie about the important stuff like our friendship and how I feel about you. That was real, at least to me.

-B

Chuck crumpled the paper and shoved in into his pocket next to the bracelets. This time he didn't bother wiping his eyes as he peddled off towards home.