Welcome to Riverbelle

First Chapter of The Mail Man

"And this is where you die," Laurel said, pointing to the ground, "You'll just kinda—yeah, fall." She watched as Kate pretended to stumble around a forest with a gut wound. The kid fell and twitched for a few seconds before laying still.

"And then stab, stab, stab!" Robert leapt from the floor in front of the stage and jabbed at her with his wooden sword.

"Robert Lewis!" Laurel said. She tried not to laugh, but it was hard. He looked up at her. Perhaps that's why he was one of her favorite students—because he was still small enough that she could pat his soft brown hair. Laurel dropped to her knees and put her hands on the shoulders of his green and grey shirt. "Robert, this is a play. We only have a month. You need to let Kate rehearse this scene. She hasn't gotten to run it completely yet."

"Indeed," he nodded, but his eyes were on her shoes.

"Do you understand me? I want you to have fun, but I also want you to do well," she said.

"Yes ma'am."

"All right, good," Laurel said, standing. She dusted off her knees and looked around the stage. It was pretty much empty. She was waiting on three faux trees to arrive and a few costumes. "All right," she sighed again, "Robert, go sit down, and Kate, go ahead and run that."

Robert leapt off the stage and ran, his arms flailing behind him, up the center aisle of the theater, finding a seat in the very back.

Good, Laurel thought, backing off the stage toward the curtain.

Kate re-set the scene, taking a moment to get into her character. A little burst of pride welled in Laurel's chest. Kate was understanding the art of acting and it was simply wonderful. Now if only she would be able to deliver those pesky lines...

"Laurel. Laurel. Back up." It was Chico, a kid from local Riverbelle High, who was a part of the stage crew. In fact, he was the stage crew. "The lights may bounce off the buttons on your jacket." He took his job seriously.

"Oops, sorry," Laurel backed up without taking her eyes off Kate. The girl's fake limp was good. The way her shoulders bent in toward her chest was perfect.

Oh, turn out to the audience. Maybe she is? I can't see. She moved to the side of the wing for a better angle. Kate's cheek became visible and then the frame of her nose and then—thud. "Oh, sorry, Chico," Laurel said, looking up at the person into which she'd collided.

"No estoy comprendo?" a boy, who was not Chico, said. He held three UPS boxes stacked on each other.

"Oh, ha," Laurel laughed, "Sorry, I thought you were in my stage crew. Are those—."

"Your stage crew?" the boy asked. He was maybe a year older than her—mid-twenties. His chin was well shaven and his hair, short brown. If he hadn't been wearing the brown UPS uniform, he might have been attractive. Even with it—the brown, button up t-shirt and matching shorts landing somewhere above the knee, and those same black boots that every UPS driver seemed to wear—he wasn't bad.

"Yeah—."

"You're the director?"

"And you're the delivery guy," Laurel said, trying not to get defensive. "Are those boxes for this group?" She crossed her arms over her burgundy t-shirt dress.

"Yeah, I think," he said, rotating the boxes over to his right arm while his left moved to his side to get an odd device. It was bulky—yellow and, surprise, surprise, brown. He lifted the device and read the little screen on the front. "737 Riverbelle Theatre?"