Ever After

As The Night Unfolds

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This chapter is in Mark's perspective.

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I was terrified – petrified. I didn't know the least bit of what was happening, where we were going, or what was going on, as if I'd entered a completely alternate universe as soon as Jack had commanded the plan was in action. I'd completely blanked, losing sight of every ordinary thought and query, claiming numerous new questions and worries of what was to come (in spite of fear of not knowing what was to come).

I glanced down at the cracked phone screen, letting it sink in for what felt like the hundredth time that this was happening, that this was actually happening. Somehow, I'd managed to transform from super geek to pranking (and sex) master over the course of less than four months, a transformation that made me feel as if I were a Decepticon that'd turned into a Autobot, Jack (a.k.a. Optimus Prime) leading the rest of us into battle.

And who was "us," exactly? I mean, he'd never truly described to me who this "back-up" was, and he'd never hinted at anything, either. It could be anyone – after all, he could've rounded up his dozen-or-so-siblings for all I knew. The possibilities were endless, as were my dreads of what was about to happen – I was nowhere near ready for what was going on, and yet I was forced to be, for Jack's hand soon clung about my wrist like a bracelet once more, tugging me deeper into the depths of backstage.

It was an odd area, one that was a maze to me, and yet he knew his way around – I tried to imagine that this was because of our Shakespearean performances rather than some secretive Broadway play I had yet to know about.

It was seven o'clock (according to my phone screen), meaning that the early-arriving students would already be out and on the dance floor – this was when it mattered the most, when we could either succeed at keeping our presence a secret, or we failed miserably and were caught red-handed before every twelfth-grade student. I could see it now, the principal shaking his head in disappointment, the students pointing and giggling, and my father bellowing at me for managing to screw up yet another part of my life.

I'd memorized every word of Jack's thus far, hoping for a greater explanation as to what we were on our way to do. However, I didn't need wonder for more than a moment, for it only took a quick second for Jack to find his way to a small, wooden door, one squeezed in the back corner of the stage. Before I could open my mouth and wonder why the door was so seemingly important, Jack thrust the door open, tossing me in before joining quickly afterward, clicking it locked behind us with his master key.

"Jack –"

He placed a finger to his lips.

"Don't." A sigh. "Sorry – it's just that all of the faculty are roaming around backstage, and even the slightest whisper can get us caught."

I nodded, being sure to keep my questioning words to myself as he unlocked access to a strange control panel hooked up against the wall, fitted with numerous switches and chords that I didn't understand. Whispering (and breaking his own rules), he said:

"This control panel will help us shut off the lights," he said.

"Why don't we just shut off the spotlights?" I questioned. "I mean, it'll be pitch black when we do it, so no one will be able to see Felix and Naomi get covered in paint!"

"Yes, great plan, Mark," he said sarcastically, "but how do you expect us to access the spotlights? It's not like we can run into the control room and hold a gun to the tech nerds' heads while commandin' they put on a show for us."

I nodded again, feeling foolish for assuming.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, sex master," he joked, eyes aglow from the light above. "We can't all be masters at everything."