The Fall Musical by Peter Lerangis

running lines right now. We are dancing. Exploring our psychedelic inner seventies flower children! Now, loosen up. Hippify yourself!”
    Brianna watched in disbelief as the actors began jumping around the stage with huge smiles, arms flailing, eyes wide.
    â€œ ‘Hippify’?” Casey said.
    â€œReese’s concept for the show is ‘Hippie Potfest meets Medieval Morality Play,’ ” Brianna said. “She picked up that last phrase on Google. She’s trying to impress Harrison.”
    â€œI see,” Casey said. “Well, they look . . . energetic.”
    â€œThey look like they just escaped from the loony bin,” Brianna added.
    â€œHave you seen the movie? They looked the same way.” Dashiell shrugged. “It’s quite fun to watch. All the Afros flying around.”
    â€œSo maybe our cast, their hair looks . . . I don’t know . . . too twenty-first century?” Casey said. “Maybe we could work on that, I think.”
    â€œWhat are you suggesting?” Brianna said. “Hair doesn’t grow that much in two months.”
    â€œRight. You’re right,” Casey said. “But there are wigs? You know, seventies-style wigs? We had a theatrical-wig store where I used to live. I’m sure we could find one here . . . ”
    Brianna laughed, picturing Harrison with an Afro. “Might work. I like it. And yeah, there is a shop in Ridgeport on Sunrise Highway. It’s called Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow. I don’t know the phone number.”
    â€œBrianna, that’s an excellent idea!” Dashiell exclaimed. “You’re a certified genius.”
    â€œIt was Casey’s idea,” Brianna said.
    â€œI’ll call.” Casey scribbled something on a sheet of paper. “Oh—Dashiell! The school has Wi-Fi, right? What if you rigged the new lighting computer to it? If I keep a laptop backstage, we could network them and both work the cues.”
    Dashiell nodded. “Depends on the software. I’ll check.”
    â€œGreat.” Casey stood up, pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, and made her way across the seats toward the aisle. “Ridgeport, please. The number for Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow . . .”
    â€œShe is the bomb,” Dashiell said, but his approving grin quickly vanished. “I mean, after you. You have, um, the greater bombness.” He edged toward the aisle. “I’ll . . . go check the software now . . . ”
    Brianna watched him go. Lately, Dashiell had been acting like this a lot. Maybe he was crushing on Casey. . . .
    Casey was impressing everyone. She was sharp. She had spine behind that timid exterior. Mr. Levin was beaming. Charles was in raptures. She even forced Dashiell into grammar hell.
    Could this possibly be the same person? Casey obviously had had some leadership experience somewhere. But Brianna didn’t ever remember her talking about it. Which was weird. Wouldn’t it be one of the first topics of conversation?
    â€œPeace and love!” came Kyle’s voice from the stage. “Make love, not war!”
    â€œ Kyle, put me down! ”
    Brianna looked up. Kyle had lifted Lori high over his head and was trying to get her to sit on his shoulders. Brianna fought back the pit-of-the-stomach feeling that said, That could have been me.
    Lori, however, looked scared.
    â€œCut!” Reese called out. “Stop!”
    â€œLet her down, Kyle,” Mr. Levin called out, standing at the lip of the stage. “Look, guys, this play is not just goofy movement, dumb jokes, and nice songs. It’s not That ’70s Show . It means something.”
    â€œGodspell means Gospel,” Lori volunteered. “Good news.”
    â€œWe’re supposed to be like a band of brothers and sisters,” Becky spoke up. “Sharing stuff.”
    â€œStuff?” Mr. Levin said. “What stuff?”
    â€œLove . . . ” Jamil mumbled.