Page 117 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
I stand and approach Matt. It’s killing me not to be able to touch him right now. “For now, can I just say that I miss you and I’m sorry?”
“I’m sorry too, Pennywise. Can we just?—”
“I need a little more time, Matt. Can we maybe plan on talking things out tomorrow night after the kids’ show?”
“You’re still coming?” he says hopefully.
“Of course, I am.” I smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “Tomorrow night, then.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Chapter 32
Matt
It’s chaos in the gymnasium on Sunday night as the kids prepare for the big show.
Prepare is probably too generous a word for what’s happening here.
Currently, my young cast members are running, yelling, snacking, vocalizing, and last-minute peeing. My parent volunteers are doing their best to round them up, as we just got word from our eleven-year-old stage manager that it’s five minutes until curtain.
There have been no signs of Penny yet, and I’m starting to worry she’s not coming after all.
Buck up, Barbera.
You have a show to do.
I clap my hands once, and like moths to a flame, the kids gather around me like they always do for our pre- and post-rehearsal ritual. Only rehearsals are over now. Tonight, it’s the real thing.
“Alright, friends,” I address them all with a big voice that sounds way happier than I feel. “It has been such a pleasure building this with you over the past month. I couldn’t be prouder of the amazing work you’ve all done and how much joy and passion you’ve put into this show. So tonight?—”
The door to the gymnasium creaks open, and all heads—including mine—turn to see who’s coming in.
“Penny!” the kids all shout.
Penny, my heart says inside my chest.
“Hi, guys!” she says shyly. “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to say merde before the show.”
“Merde?” Mikayla’s nose scrunches. “What is merde?”
“Oh, it’s, um—” Penny’s eyes shoot to mine. It’s clear she feels bad for taking the focus away.
“Please,” I say. “Come join the circle. Tell us all what merde is.”
And while you’re at it, tell me what I can do to fix us.
She finds a spot between two fourth graders—far away from me—and says, “Well. In the theater, it’s bad luck to say ‘good luck.’”
“How can it be bad luck to say ‘good luck’?” one of the kids asks.
“I know,” she says. “Kinda silly, right? So theater people usually say ‘break a leg’ instead. But—” she says emphatically, stopping a kid who’s about to say that very phrase. “In the dance world, where I come from—for obvious reasons—saying…” She mimes breaking a leg. “…is even worse luck. So we dancers say merde instead.”
“But what does merde mean?” Mikayla asks from across the circle.
“Well…” Penny winces. “It’s French for poop.”
