The Devil on Kazoo

17: Syl's Burn

"No, you just have to wait
She said love don't come easy
It's a game of give and take
You can't hurry love"

"You Can't Hurry Love" by The Supremes

Syl and Kathy unfurled the largest spool of velvet they'd ever seen.

The emerald fabric caught the light and shimmered as Syl cut her end.

"Make sure to cut it smooth," Kathy commented anxiously as she watched the scissors move across the material.

Syl did as she was told and they hung the fabric over the metal frame that would soon form the backdrop of their stage.

As Syl held it in place, Kathy backed away to observe, tapping her chin and leaning into different angles.

"It'll need to be gathered on the sides," she said, "and the hem simply must be taken up."

She continued to mutter all sorts of sewing jargon that Syl didn't understand.

A few minutes passed by and Syl's arms felt like they were on fire.

"Kath," she said, "my arms aren't made of steel."

"Alright, alright, just a moment."

Finally, Syl was released from her duties.

She came to stand next to Kathy and together they beheld the small stage Bash had built.

It was only a couple of feet off the ground, but its circular shape gave it a more eloquent purpose than if it had been a simple square.

It was a point of both beauty and trepidation for the Crumbs. As they came closer to fulfilling their dreams of performing, they also came closer to the possibility of failing.

One week, Syl thought, casting a subconscious glance at Smiley, who was on the piano, writing down new pieces to accommodate for his lack of a hand.

Nobody tried to discourage him or dared to suggest he not play. So they let him tinker on the keys day and night, silently praying that he'd come through in the end.

At least after the concert they could stop wondering about the outcome.

"Syl?" Bash called from somewhere below deck.

"Coming," Syl called back, then asked Kathy, "Do you need help taking it to the sewing room?"

Kathy didn't hear her. She was already gathering the material in her arms like a greedy miser collecting gold. She'd be busy for a long time to come, it seemed.

Syl found Bash in the boiler room on the lowest deck, tools scattered about the floor as he worked on the pipes that zigzagged around the walls.

Sweat glistened on his tanned skin, where his dark curls were plastered to his forehead.

He drug his arm across his face and Syl averted her eyes, where she noticed Bash's shirt tied around his hand.

She frowned. "Did you burn yourself?"

"Not too bad." He shrugged, then nodded toward a space in-between two pipes.

"I'm trying to flip a switch in that box behind there to get the plumbing working again," he explained, "but me and Smiles are too big to fit our arms between it."