Page 109 of Top Scorer
He looks so pleased at my promise, I simply have to add, “If you win the next round, I’ll let you pick any name for one of the babies.”
Tristan’s brows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Within reason,” I warn, narrowing my eyes.
His grin turns wicked. “Baby Stanley, after the Cup.”
I groan. “We’ll workshop it.”
CHAPTER 44
TRISTAN
It isn’t easy to be incognito this time of year. The Mavericks are now in the middle of the second round, and the city is humming with high expectations.
My baseball cap is low when I entered the school from a side door Toby had opened for me. It stays that way as I slip into the theater auditorium after the lights have gone down.
Tonight is the last performance of Ligaya’s play. Luckily, it coincides with a night I’m not away or playing.
You’d think the wacko inAlice in Wonderlandwould be the Mad Hatter, but there’s not a single sane character in this quirky-ass play. There are drunk mice and emo turtles, outrageous cats and screaming Queens.
It is so hilariously over the top, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun in a theater. To be fair, I’m no play expert. One of my classes in college forced me to go to a Shakespeare performance. It was impossible to stay awake.
This, however, has the Ligaya Torres directorial magic all over it. Lighthearted but not sentimental, goofy but still satirical, weird but in the best way. I’m so proud of her and the kids.
It’s the last show of the school year, thank god, and I can’t wait for Ligaya to stay home. She’s already arranged for the substitutesfor her English classes but was determined to see this show through. “For her seniors” was a constant refrain.
Those seniors are enjoying their standing ovation now. However, before they vacate the stage, the cast and crew call Ligaya up. She is shepherded to the middle of the stage.
She’s wearing a flowery spring dress—she’s constantly overheating recently—and looks as gorgeous as always. Maybe even more so, if that’s possible. As her stomach stretches to accommodate the babies, everything about her softens. Her face has a sweet roundness, and her curves are sexier than ever.
“Ms. Torres, you’ve done so much for us this year. The way you believe in us has been one of the best parts of high school. We’ll miss you while you’re on parental leave, though I guess we have to share you with your kids now.”
Laughs from the audience, hugs from the cast and crew, tears on Ligaya’s cheeks. It’s a bittersweet moment that makes me understand, in a way I hadn’t before, why she does what she does. These kids are truly changed because they were part of something so challenging and yet undeniably worthwhile.
She looks stunned standing under the lights, cheeks flushed at the cheers of the audience. The kid dressed as a large white rabbit scurries out dragging a chair across the stage, ears bouncing.
“Have a seat,” he announces, planting the chair at center stage. Ligaya lowers herself carefully, her belly resting on her lap when she’s settled in.
Alice—or rather, the kid playing Alice—steps forward carrying a gift bag and a bouquet of flowers she lays in Ligaya’s arms. The Mad Hatter jumps in with a spin, digging into the bag like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. He yanks out a onesie, snaps it open, and holds it over his head for the audience to see.
“Cue the Milk” is printed across the chest. The place explodes. Laughter, coos, applause. Even I bark out a laugh. Ligaya tips her head back and snorts, shoulders shaking.
“And when cues aren’t enough . . .” Alice adds, pulling out another folded onesie.
The Cheshire Cat takes it with exaggerated reverence and unfurls it for everyone to see: “Stage Manager in Training.”
The sound that rolls through the auditorium is halfawwwand half outright cheering. My throat closes up as Ligaya presses a trembling hand over her mouth, the other still gripping the flowers. She looks like she’s about to collapse under the weight of the emotions she’s keeping in check.
Then the Queen of Hearts steps forward, carrying a small ribbon-wrapped stack.
“And because every great production deserves a library . . .” She fans the books out for the audience to see.B Is for Broadway, Maisy Goes to a Show, Goodnight Broadway,andMy First Book of Broadway Songs.
The whole auditorium reacts in unison with another collective murmur of delight. Ligaya’s laugh bubbles up through her tears. The kids in their wild costumes circle closer, grinning as if they’ve just pulled off the best prank of the season.
I didn’t think it was possible to love Ligaya any more than I do, but watching these kids tear up in gratitude is truly remarkable. God, teachers don’t get paid enough for how much they give the next generation.
“You’ve directed a lot of shows,” the Mad Hatter says grandly, “but this next one is your biggest production yet.”
