Chain Letter

Chapter Six

Brenda handed Alison the early edition of the Times the following Monday morning and sat down without comment beside her in the fifth row of the theater. Alison opened to the classified section and searched for a minute before finding the ad.

B.P. Mr.H. Worst Director World Front Everyone

"You cannot tell Mr. Hoglan that," Alison said, not really surprised. This was only number three, but in a queer sort of way, she was already getting used to the Caretaker's messages. "It would hurt his feelings."

"I'm not worried about his feelings. I'm worried about getting kicked off the play."

"But you hate playing Essie."

"How can you say that? Or are you just so anxious to run the whole thing?"

"Right. I'd look real cute on stage answering my own questions." Alison was getting a might fit of Brenda's jealousy. "So, are you going to do it?"

"Do I have a choice? I don't want a brick wall to fall on me." Brenda glanced at the door, thier sleepyhead cast stumbling in followed by their bright-eyed teacher. She added, "I just hope the jerk gives me half an excuse to chew him out."

With the opening night of You Can't Take It with You rapidly approaching, Mr. Hoglan wanted them to run through all of act one today, finishing the other two acts Tuesday and Wednesday morning. Everyone seemed comfortable with their lines. Unfortunately, Fran had yet to return the props--God knew what she was doing with them. So far, Fran had been able to stall Mr. Hall. She didn't want to repaint Teddy until she was sure the Caretaker was through enjoying the goat. Kipp thought she should go ahead with the job, collect the money, get another command to restyle it as a pig, received another request to fix it, and keep collecting the money. Fran did not think that was funny.

Alice did not appear on stage until approximately ten minutes into the play so Alison sat in the seats not far from Mr. Hoglan and waited to see if Brenda had the guts to carry through.since there were few nondrama students present, she briefly wondered how the Caretaker would know if Brenda had committed the foul deed or not. then she had the disturbing idea that the Caretaker must be present. She scrutinized the six people unconnected with the play who were watching the rehearsal--three girls, three guys-- and didn't recognize a single one. They must be either freshmen or sophomores, aspiring actors, too young, so it would seem, to be behind such a complex scheme. Then she realized that if Brenda did tell Mr. Hoglan off, the whole school would know about it by break, and the rest of the city by lunch. One way or another, if he or she had listening ears, the Caretaker would know what had gone down.

One thing you had to give to Brenda, she didn't hesitate. She had hardly appeared on stage when she began to do Essie's idiotic stretching exercises in an unusually obscene manner--spread-eagled and the like. Mr. Hoglan called for a halt.

"Brenda," he said kindly, wattling his way to the front, tugging thoughtfully at his gray beard, not knowing he was about to have a professional qualifications severely questioned. "This is not an audition for Hair. Why are you being so . . . suggestive?"

"I don't know what you mean," Brenda said.

Mr. Hoglan did not like to argue. "Could you please perform Essie's limbering exercises as you have done for the last three weeks?" He turned back toward his spot in the last row. Brenda stopped him with a word.

"No."

Mr. Hoglan paused. "What did you say?"

"I'll do them the way I feel is best. You're the one who's always telling us to be natural on stage. Well, that's exactly what I'm doing, letting it all hang out. Although I don't know why I listen to you at all. To tell you the truth, I think you're the worst director in the entire world."