The hard linoleum was cold under her calves as she adjusted her position. Sitting cross-legged among sparse piles of sawdust behind the high school auditorium's stage was quickly losing its perks. Taking a break from pretending to hammer a nail into a two-by-four, she patted her skin, trying to regain blood flow in her numb limbs. Her thoughts were distant from the set design project assigned to her, floating beyond the double doors that were inches from where she sat, out onto the stage. The sound of amateur fingers pounding piano keys, fingers that should have been hers, vibrated through the air. The director's pause to note a flawed line, a line that should have been hers, interrupted the shaky song. And then a faint whimper, followed closely by a husky chuckle, found her ear.
Her interest piqued as she raised her eyes to the double-doors, her hands still flat against her calves. The low rumble of footsteps jogging up the stairs on the other side of the doors pushed her into a slight panic. There was a silent pause, and then a brief knock. The sound of the metal bar releasing the hinge clicked in her ear as the left door pushed slightly open, allowing a paper-thin stream of light to awaken the dark backstage. She crouched in attempt to stand, but her lifeless legs only stung with prickly pain, temporarily frozen in place.
An eye emerged between the two doors. "Hello?" a voice asked cautiously, as hands pushed more forcibly now on the door. His voice. She winced in mild discomfort as the sharp corner of the door nudged her thigh. The eye scanned down to find the object blocking its entry. A sly grin was now visible under the eye. "Excuse me," he whispered. In the same second the left door closed, the right opened. Two eyes now stared down at her, waiting. The grin reappeared shortly, before locks of shoulder-length auburn hair fell before it, covering it from view. He shook his head directing the loose strands back into place, before combing his hair instinctively with his free hand. "Um, I found this inbetween seat cushions out there," he said while placing his hand out in her view, holding a long, slightly rusted black screw. He waited. She stared, her faced flushed in confusion. The grin returned, loosening into a smile. "Well, actually," he started, pausing to glance back toward the hidden auditorium, "Heather found it. She sat on it." He chuckled. The whimper made sense now.
"So..." he hesitated. Her brain jolted to the present.
"Right," she murmured. "Sorry..." She leaned forward and stretched her hand out to receive the metal screw. Rather than handing it to her, he jerked his free hand from his side and clasped hers with his. In a surprisingly smooth movement, he pulled her to a standing position. The blood rushed down into her still sleeping legs. Shock and discomfort fluttered over her face before she regained composure. Act normal, she thought to herself. But the grin, his grin, ruined any chance normalcy might have had. "Right," she said louder now, nodding her head. After brushing off her shorts and smoothing out her shirt, she reached for the screw, realizing her hand was still in his. She pulled it away to take the screw. "Thanks for bringing it back here," she managed, impressed with her ability to speak. "I'll make sure it gets put away." He detected the false importance in her voice and laughed.
"Please, do," he cooed. His eyes, visibly green now, moved together as a look of frustration overtook his face. "You...look familiar," he suggested. Her thoughts ran wild for a brief moment, racking her brain for some non-existent connection that could sustain the conversation. Coming up empty, she shrugged and shyly smiled. He looked down at his empty hands, realizing the screw was delivered and his job was done. He placed his hand back on the door and turned to leave. She shifted her body to parallel his. He coughed. "I'm Jay, by the way," he offered, waiting.
Her lips parted, hesitating while her mind located those two words that should be so familiar by now. "I'm-" she started, interrupted by a loud call from beyond the doors.
"JAY!" The director called. "Line!" Jay's head twitched as he pulled the large door completely open, flooding the backstage in an awkward gold light. As he stepped through, he turned slightly back and grinned.
"See you later, Screw Girl." He chuckled. The dark returned. She smiled, and looked down at the screw in her hand. Screw Girl, she winced. Shaking her head, she stepped forward to throw the piece into a bucket of others just like it. But before she could release her grip, the grin, his grin, flashed in her mind's eye. Smirking, she pushed the screw down into her back pocket and returned to her hunched position over the two-by-four.
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