The Fall Musical by Peter Lerangis Page B

fence?”
    â€œThe Charlettes will paint a backdrop.”
    Casey thought a moment then smiled. “I have an idea. Can I show you?”
    â€œI am your acolyte,” Charles said.
    She stood and led Charles into the hallway. They hurried down a corridor to the school’s rear exit, which led outside to a dark, fenced-in area where the trash was stored in three large Dumpsters. Construction debris was piled against the wall, casting ominous shadows.
    â€œIf you want to make out with me, Casey,” Charles said, “I can think of a few sexier spots. Like behind the steam tables in the cafeteria.”
    Casey blushed. Turning away from him, she leaned over a pile of bricks and rattled a chain-link fence. It was enormous, at least ten feet high. “I was thinking . . . maybe this is a dumb idea . . . do you think we can get this into the wings?”
    Charles glanced from the fence to the small school entrance door. “Uh . . . no, it’s not a dumb idea. In fact, I thought of it myself. I even talked to Mr. Ippolito about it, but he didn’t like the idea. And I think he was right. I took a closer look and I was like, ‘Gah, what are you thinking ?’ (A) It’s filthy and rusty, and (B) it would stain the costumes, and (C) I doubt the school has insurance against gangrene, and (D) it would never fit through the door, and (F) it weighs a ton.”
    â€œYou skipped E.”
    â€œI’ll think of something.”
    â€œLook, we could clean off the rust,” Casey said. “There are products for that. And it would look perfect . . . . ”
    â€œYou want to try Mr. Ippolito again? Be my guest. But take some NoDoz before you go. Unless you’re dying to hear about his experience as the Tree in The Wizard of Oz in 1492. Look, doll, the Charlettes have great artistic abilities. At least I hope they do.”
    â€œThey do,” Casey agreed. “But the fence would be more realistic.”
    â€œNo offense—ha, that’s a pun—but don’t get grandiose. It can backfire on you. Personally, I like that in a girl. You remind me of me, which is one of the reasons I see Dr. Fink. He specializes in grandiose teenagers. Now I have to get back. You do what you need to do.”
    â€œOkay,” Casey said, a little baffled. Sometimes she wasn’t sure what Charles was talking about. “See you in the auditorium.”
    Â 
    Mr. Ippolito, the janitor, leaned back, putting his feet on the cracked Formica desk. “Yeah, Chasey, you’re gonna love it here.”
    â€œCasey,” Casey said gently.
    â€œI used to be an actor in this high school, too, y’know. Yep.” He leaned forward meaningfully, as if to give his words proper weight. “I played the role of Cord Elam. In Oklahoma! I owned Cord Elam. You know the role?”
    Casey nodded. She’d never heard of it. “That’s so great. So you really understand us. The custodian in my old school? He wouldn’t let us use a stepladder in Carousel —”
    Mr. Ippolito sat bolt upright. “For the Starkeeper? You gotta have a ladder for that scene.”
    â€œHe banned plastic retractable knives for West Side Story .”
    â€œAwww, no!” Mr. Ippolito groaned. “What’d he expect the actors to do, slap each other to death?”
    â€œI’m glad we didn’t do Godspell there . . . ” Casey’s heart was fluttering so hard, she was sure he could tell. She wasn’t used to doing this kind of thing, but gentle prodding was not nearly as bad as lying, and she had been doing a lot of that lately. If she could get Mr. Ippolito invested in the idea of the best possible play . . . “He would never have let us build realistic scenes. Like in the crucifixion . . . ”
    â€œThat’s a great scene! The movie, with the cop cars in the background, Judas selling him out . . . ”
    Casey swallowed hard. “I know Charles has already