Held Back Theater 2 (Patreon)

After the final bell, Toby arrived with principal McCullen at the “office” of Mr. Sullivan, the head of the drama department, for his first day of punishment. Mr. Sullivan looked as though some drunken wizard had stretched out pieces of playdoh into long, thin, shapes then attached them to a normal sized torso and molded that into the visage of a man and given it life and soul. Sullivan sat hunched over a sewing machine on a too short table. “Yes?” Mr. Sullivan asked hurriedly upon hearing Victor’s knock upon the painted door. “Hello?” He said through clenched teeth as he chewed on pins trapped between his teeth where he always kept them.

“Sullivan, with your increased funding I would have thought could have hired someone out for this by now.”

“Much better things to spend the money on.” He waved his hand wildly, dismissing Victor’s suggestion, “Besides, it helps me think.” Sullivan said, finally looking up from his work and noticing Toby. “And who do we have here?” He asked with a cheerful smile as he stood from the too short desk, throwing his long leg over the machine and crossing the distance with a single step.

“This is Tobias Laughlin.”

“Toby.” Toby quickly corrected, coughing at the mix of chemical odors, paint, and rotted fish that permeated every inch of the backstage at this point.

“Toby!” Sullivan suddenly cheered and reached down to offer his hand to shake the much shorter boy, “Tell me my lad,” he shook Toby’s hand with exuberance which only increased as he went on, cheering louder and louder with every question, “What brings you to our land of magic and wonder? What brings you to our world of myth and fairies? What brings you to our little corner of pathos and eros? What, I say, what brings you to our universe of tragedy and comedy?!”

Shaking hands with Mr. Sullivan reminded Toby of the time a circus clown on stilts sold him cotton candy. Unlike the clown, who was under a large tent, Mr. Sullivan was in the theater department’s closet and forced to stoop due to his height. The last time Toby was in the oversized closet he had thought the ceiling was a normal height, but Mr. Sullivan was being forced to stoop his shoulders to keep from hitting his head against the ceiling.

Toby didn’t consider himself short, he knew he was shorter than Quinten and some of his other friends, or even his dad, but that didn’t make him short, “just shorter than them” as his mom often reminded him after his growth spurt hadn’t been what he expected. Her reassurance didn’t stop him from holding on to hope for a second, much more satisfying, growth spurt.

“Toby is here to clean up the mess he made.”

The smile on Mr. Sullivan’s face dropped away in an instant, “Oh.” he said flatly, “His cleaning supplies are in my office.” He walked past them both and ducked behind a backdrop of mideval venice. After a few minutes Mr. Sullivan came back out with a bucket of cleaning supplies. “Start by cleaning the seats.” He shoved the bucket and a broom into Toby’s hands as he walked away towards center stage where he met much more cheerfully with his students.

“That went well.” Toby frowned.

“It went as well as could be expected.” McCullin added, “Now, again. You are not to leave without Mr. Sullivan’s permission and what you don’t get done today you’ll have to come back.”

“What if I get it cleaned up in one day?”

McCullin chuckled, “If you manage that miracle you’ll have to take that up with Mr. Sullivan.” The bald man checked his watch, “I’ll be back in one hour to check on your progress. They usually wrap up in two hours. You are not to leave until you clear it with Mr. Sullivan. Is that clear?”

“Aye aye, captain.” Toby clicked his shoes and saluted the older man with a smile. Victor simply shook his head and left.

Toby’s smile faded as he carried the bucket to the back row of seats. Thankful that the horrendous smell didn’t appear to reach so far back. He took the small handled brush out of the bucket and swept the dried up silly string and toilet paper to the floor wherever he found it. All in all it took him thirty minutes to get the entirety of the seating area swept.

Toby smiled smugly as he approached Mr. Sullivan, who sat in the center row, watching the theater kids perform some skit Toby hadn’t been paying attention to, “Where’s your can?”

Again he watched as the man’s smile broke down when he looked at Toby, “Backstage.” He said flatly.

Toby clicked his tongue, sucking in air through his teeth. He wanted to say fuck it and leave, not appreciating how Mr. Sullivan was talking to him, but he didn’t need to get into any more trouble than he was already in. “Yeah, so. I’m about done with the seats.” ‘I don’t know why mom complains so much.’ He thought smugly, ‘This cleaning stuff is easy.’  “At this rate I’ll be out of your hair in a day or two.”

Mr. Sullivan stretched and looked at the seats behind him, “Did you wash the seats?”

“What?”

“We removed all the fish we could find that you…and whoever…left but the smell soaked into one of the seats. So…was them.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“I gave you everything you’d need in the bucket. What did you think all of that was for?” Mr. Sullivan laughed, which slowly turned into an angry sigh, “I guess you’re one of those I’ll have to spell everything out for you.”

Toby’s face twisted in anger. He wasn’t an idiot! Why did everyone always treat him like he was?  ‘No.’ Toby forced himself to take a deep breath, ‘He’s trying to get a rise out of me.’ This wasn’t his first time dealing with a bully, or even a dickheaded teacher trying to get him into trouble, “I’ll remember to ask you next time.” He said through a clenched jaw and picked up his bucket once again.

“I’ll save me the trouble of you bothering me again. You’re to clean every seat. Not just the ones you befouled with your witless whimsy."

Toby glared at the weird man before clicking his tongue and walking away. ‘Starting to see why everybody jumped on board so quickly.’

For the better part of an hour Toby swept the rows before circling back just to kneel in front of each seat and scrubbed each one. By the time Principal McCullen returned he had only managed to finish three rows.

“Mr. Laughlin.” When Toby didn’t respond, he called out again, “Mr. Laughlin.” Victor noticed the small buds inside of Toby’s ear and quickly pulled one free.

“What the hell?!”

“Mr.Laughlin. You know you are not permitted to listen to music during school.”

“I’m not.” He said smugly, “School’s out.”

“Not for you.” Victor held out his hand, waiting for the other earbud. Toby groaned and took the bud out of his ear and placed it into its case before handing it to Principal McCullen. “You can get this back when your parents come to pick you up.” He said, placing the other bud into the case. “Now, are we making progress paying back your debt?”

Toby glared up at the evil Lex Luthor and said, “Tons.” instead of asking if his eyesight was as vacant as his hair.

“Wonderful. Well keep at it,” he paused checking his watch, “your parents will be here in an hour.” Principal McCullen walked away to speak with Mr. S, leaving Toby alone in the back row.

Without his bluetooth the only thing he could listen to for the next forty-five minutes was the various monologues and dialogue from the so-called actors on stage. Lines were dropped, forgotten, and restarted. Dialogue was shouted with as much force as one kid could muster. Another’s voice cracked painfully as he tried to plead to the heavens. Another ad libbed “ums” and “uhs” into what sounded like Shakespeare. “How did these guys win last year?” He shook his head as he scrubbed the twelfth seat of the fifth row, coming to the conclusion that the ones who won had to have been last year's seniors.

Finally a familiar voice rang out, “Jake Keye, my wonderful scene partner.” Toby stretched to get a better look at the girl. He only caught a brief look at her the night she busted him, not nearly good enough to realize she was actually hot. She still wore paint stained clothes, but without the overalls pressing them down she had a fairly full chest. Toby guessed she was about a C cup. Her green tank top was spattered in the same black and red paint from the mural she had been working on before. Surprisingly she still did not wear shoes, but she did carry a pair of combat boots in one hand and a large M16, “My name is Grace Gardner.” She smiled brightly, her voice much more chipper than it was the last time Toby heard it, “But you can call me Gigi.” Jake busied himself pulling up a small cot to the center of the stage.

Mr. Sullivan chuckled, “We know.” and briefly turned to whisper something to Principal McCullen in the seat beside him, “What scene have you got for me today?”

“Macbeth; act five, scene five.”

“Very well. When you’re ready.” Grace nodded happily and padded quickly to the cot where she hurried to put on the boots. Toby climbed over the row in front of him to sit in one of the dry seats as she finished tying the boots. They looked so out of place on her, with her wide grinning face and bubbly introduction he just heard.

Taking a deep breath her smile vanished as the sound of an explosion caused Toby to duck instinctively. It took a moment, as the sound of gunfire echoed throughout the theater for Toby to understand this was part of whatever she was doing. Grace sat on her cot for a moment, cleaning her gun until there was a loud cry from off stage. She stared in the direction of the sound for a moment before Jake walked across the stage, “Wherefor was that cry?” She asked.

Stopping Jake turned to her, “The queen my lord…is dead.” He said gruffly before continuing to walk off stage.

With a pained look Grace muttered, “She should have died hereafter.” The sounds of shelling and gunfire continued much more muffled as she continued. “There would have been a time for such a word.” As she stood she let the butt of her gun fall onto the stage with a heavy thud.

As she walked the gun dragged behind her, scraping against the wood stage, the sound drowning out the gunfire and explosions. She stopped, and stared off at something in the distance. “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and…tomorrow. Creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time.” Stomping her boot in time as she lifted the gun and slammed the butt of it beside her foot she immediately lifted it and pulled it against her shoulder before taking aim at Toby before slowly pulling her head away.

“And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.” Her voice was soft as if she were considering her own words as she twisted the gun in her hands, her distant and blank stare shifted as she glared at the gun in her hands. “Out, out, brief candle!” Dropping the gun at her feet she slumped onto the cot. Her fingers seemed to dig their way into her head as she shook her head before suddenly she stopped and looked up at her audience once again. “Life's but a walking shadow,”– she chuckled, her bright smile returning as she stood–“a poor player,” –she giggled–“that struts and frets his hour upon the stage,” she said with a laugh as she too strutted back and forth across the stage, picking up her gun once again, “And then is heard no more.” Anger filled her face once more before she smashed the gun to bits on the stage, screaming,“It is a tale told by an idiot!”–turning once again to face the audience– “Full of sound and fury!” Her gun smashed, she pulled at her own hair, “Signifying…” her screaming rage died out as she stared up at the ceiling, her eyes filled with tears and she collapsed to her knees sobbing quietly “...nothing.”

For several seconds no one spoke, Toby wasn’t sure if there was more or not, until Jake returned and Grace stood to her feet with a hop, her same bright smile returned. “And scene.” She said taking a bow. Toby fell back against his seat, not realizing he had been sitting on the edge of his seat.

"Thank you Ms. Garner."

"Thank you Mr. S!" She cheered and followed Jake off of the stage. Mr. Sullivan whispered with McCullen for a moment as a stagehand swept up the remains of the shattered prop on the stage before looking back at Toby. Toby quickly ducked under the seats and pretended to be cleaning as Principal McCullen passed by silently.

‘Wait!’ Toby’s mind shouted, “Shit!” he swore and chased after McCullen, “Mr. McCu-”

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Mr. Sullivan shouted before Toby could reach the door.

“I–I was-”

“I believe you are not allowed to leave without my approval.”

“Yeah but-”

“No butts unless it’s you getting yours back to work cleaning the mess you made!” Toby glanced between the small troupe and the door which Principal McCullen left. He would’ve caught him if Mr. Sullivan didn’t stop him! Toby groaned and walked back where he left the bucket and continued cleaning. The rest of class, it seemed like every single student made some excuse to walk by or look in the seats for something Toby knew for sure wasn’t there between one monologue after another. One short eternity later, and the class was finally over and Toby was waved away when he went to speak with Mr. Sullivan which Toby of course took to mean he was dismissed and rushed out of the theater. He had hoped he could catch Principal McCullen before he left but there was no such luck. Determined to get them the first thing tomorrow he simply went home.

The next morning he was informed that Principal McCullen had taken ill and wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week and none of his secretaries or vice principal knew where he kept the things he would confiscate from students. After his miserable morning of being forced to pay attention in class he was much happier to be at practice with the rest of his team. Or he was until they met the coach on the football field. Hearing about what Toby had done to the theater department he decided to punish not just Toby, but the entire team. Toby was actually luckier than the rest since his punishment was laps and speed drills while the rest of the team had to do much more, starting with running suicide drills. “Since none of you seem to know who helped Toby…you all get to share in the punishment for throwing a fellow teammate under the bus!”

“How come sprout don't have to do all this shit?!” Quentin shouted after touching the 50 yard line with his hand.

“Because unlike the rest of you, he didn’t betray his teammates. Now get your ass movin’!” Coach Crawford shouted and Quentin ran off immediately, touching the 60 yard line before running back to the 50 and repeating the action. Turning to Toby, “What you did was still stupid.” Seeing Toby frowning, his face slacked. He always liked Toby, what he lacked in power he made up for in sheer grit. You had to admire that. Unlike his own son, Billy, who currently was on the 40 yard line, heaving. As his daddy was fond of saying, that boy’s got a world of quit in him. “It’s only for the rest of the week.” He said, turning back to Toby and slapped him hard on the back, “Until then, man up.” He blew his whistle suddenly and screamed as he walked away, “Billy! Get your ass in gear!”

Toby’s personal torment continued for the next hour before he was allowed water while the rest of the team spent the rest of the two hour practice running the same drills. The first evening practice ended in silence, Billy was merely the first of the boys to lose his lunch, but far from the last. You could hear a pin drop in the showers as the other boys were dead on their feet and Toby felt too guilty to say anything. ‘Thank heaven for small favors.’ Toby thought as he quickly showered and changed. Toby had liked Coach Crawford, he took a chance on the shortest kid in his class and encouraged him when everyone else just laughed at him for trying.

By Friday and the end of his third day, and after enduring hours of monologues ranging from good to torture reserved for the cruelest of terrorists, Toby had completely scrubbed every chair clean ridding it of the rotten fish smell. Mostly. Mr. Sullivan gave him no breaks of course and told him to get started on the pit. Toby never felt so mutually hated as he walked backstage to pick up the bucket and paint thinner. Two dozen eyes stared at him in pure hate and anger. Climbing into the pit was a relief, even if he had to stare at the large neon slurs, at least he didn’t have to deal with their hate.

“Alright my little thespians,” Mr. Sullivan cheered a few minutes later, clapping his hands to ensure he had their attention, “I have decided on our top three winners for this year’s contest.” Toby paused and sat in the orchestra pit and continued to listen out of sheer boredom, “Now, first I want to say you all did splendidly and the fact you are not one of our three is not a reflection on your skill or talent as actors.”

‘What else would it be a reflection on then?’ Toby thought with a chuckle.

“But we have had soooo many…fantastic performances this year. Now the rest is up to you. For my first years, who don’t know, this means you will vote on your choice of the three and he or she will present us with the play which we will be dedicating the rest of our year.” The small group of actors applauded eagerly, which turned to quick chatter amongst themselves before Mr. Sullivan cleared his throat. “Anywho. In no particular order, we have Nico Capelli–” A high pitched shriek that could cut glass split the air followed by several people applauding and congratulating the voice–“Lian Kan.” Toby braced himself but instead of a single ear splitting scream it was a multitude of voices cheering for Lian. From what Toby remembered of her performance she was really good, he couldn’t really follow the…plot but she had even sang as part of it and her voice was beautiful. “And finally, last but not least, Gigi.” Excited chatter filled the air and a shorter but just as loud high pitched squeal joined the noise above.

‘Guess that must be Nico.’ Toby thought. ‘Jeez talk about; out loud and proud.’ he chuckled. His eyes settling on the homophobic slur in giant neon letters in front of him forced his smile away and silently he continued to scrub what he could get before the final bell rang.

After putting his supplies away Toby found himself at Principal McCullen's office Toby frantically attempted to beat down the locked door. "Come on! I bought that with my own money." Slapping the door as hard as he could, "This is bullshit, man!" he swore loudly in defeat. Turning to leave he swore again and nearly jumped out of his skin. “Shit!” He yelled, as the sight of Grace had suddenly filled his vision, “Sorry!” He panted, trying to catch his breath, “I thought you were McCullen for a second.” He laughed nervously.

“Well that’s just rude.” she glowered.

“Sorry. I meant cause…not that you look like…an evil Lex Luthor.” Grace continued glaring at the frightened boy silently, “Y-yeah. I imagine Superman wouldn’t hate Lex so much if he looked like you.” He cleared his throat, “I really liked that…thing you did earlier…with the gun?” More silent staring, “What movie is that from?” She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she turned to leave, “I…don’t suppose you have a key?” he asked desperately.

“Why would I?”

“Well…you must’ve had one to get in the school the other night so–”

“You and your friends are the ones who trashed our stage.” Toby wanted to say something, but the pained expression on her face was like a claw around his throat. A small part of him wanted to argue that she was an actor and was no doubt pretending to make him feel bad…but it didn’t matter.

He simply nodded and walked away. “Congratulations on winning the thing.” He said softly and returned home.

The weekend passed by at a snail’s pace. Normally he would go hang out with his friends or his girlfriend, if she wasn’t busy, but due to being grounded he was trapped at home. Without friends or entertainment he was almost eager to return to school on Monday.

Monday afternoon meant more scrubbing and listening to more overblown discussions about how to act in whatever scene they had chosen for that day, “What does my character want?”

“You're selling oranges.” Grace answered, annoyed. “You want to sell oranges.” Toby couldn’t help but let out a laugh before he was able to swallow it back inside. It was clear that the first half of class was simply busy work. Still he kept to himself and avoided looking at anyone as much as possible. Unfortunately he didn’t see the three boys break off from the group on stage listening to Lian explaining her interpretation of Les Miserables as told by the empty chairs and empty tables.

He didn’t see two of them following him into the bathroom while another ran off down the hall. He didn’t see them lock the door as he poured out the bucket into the toilet. The sound of his own toilet flushing drowned out the sound as one of the boys opened the door and hurried another boy in carrying a small cooler. Like most guys he ignored the sounds emanating from the stall adjacent to his own as he decided to use the bathroom since he was there. With his back to the stall door he didn’t see the third boy blocking the only exit while one of the boys quietly stood on the rims before dumping their red contents onto Toby’s head.

Thankfully he ducked and covered his head rather than looking up at the assholes attacking him as he shouted obscenities. Blindly he grabbed at the knob as he screamed he failed to open the door as he heard two voices shouting as they fled. Finally out of the stall he slipped on the bloody floor. Scrambling to his feet he finally made it out of the boys room. Instead of finding his attackers he found Grace and just narrowly missed colliding with her and slipped and fell on the floor again.

“What the hell happened?!” She yelled. Toby desperately tried to wipe away the blood that had now covered his face but only succeeded in spreading the mess further.  “Hey. Hey…calm down.” She spoke softly as Toby’s attempts to clean his face became more and more furious to the point he was only hurting himself. “Hey, you’re okay.” She managed to take hold of his wrists. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up okay? Just keep your eyes closed for now.”

“How do I know you’re not part of this?” Toby spat.

“If I were, I’d let you keep on hitting yourself like an idiot. Just trust me.”

Several minutes later, Toby stood under the warm water of the shower in the locker room, having cleaned the pigs blood off of his face and out of his hair he was finally calming down. Shutting off the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist he walked out of the shower stall.  “So are you gonna tell me what happened now?” Grace asked suddenly from the bench she had been sitting on in front of a row of lockers.

“What the hell!” Toby shouted, throwing his arm over his chest and gripping his towel tighter.

“I wanted to make sure no one dunked more pig's blood on you. I know we’re supposed to be a bunch of drama queens but this was a bit much. Where would you even get pig’s blood anyway? That’s really above and beyond for a little petty revenge. Also are you gonna just stand there?” She asked, finally acknowledging Toby hadn’t moved from his spot.

“You’re…in front of my locker.”  Raising an eyebrow she slowly shifted along the bench until Toby started moving. “You’re gonna stay?”

“I won’t peak at your johnson. Scouts honor.” She smiled, throwing three fingers up to her forehead.

“Whatever.” He scoffed and opened his locker. It wasn’t the first time he had dressed with a towel still wrapped around his waist. True to her word she didn’t look, not that she could see anything as Toby slid his gym shorts on.

“So anyway, who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, it’s total bull what you did but you didn’t deserve this.”

“Thanks.”

“So who did it?”

“Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. I’m no snitch.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

“It’s a guy thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Grace shook her head for a moment, before smirking. “Did you really like my soliloquy?”

Toby stopped, and glanced at her chest before blushing. “I…I have a girlfriend.”

Mouth agape she stared at him for a moment before it dawned on her what he was thinking, “My monologue…my performance last week?”

“Oh. I did.” He blushed again, for an entirely different reason now, and put on his sweaty gym shirt before sitting on the bench across from Grace.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Trash the theater.” Toby frowned and simply shrugged. “This…stupid guy thing, is that why you’re cleaning the theater by yourself instead of your friends?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you and your friends running away that night. If I got a good look at them you can bet your sweet ass they’d be here with you.”

“You think my ass is sweet?”

Grace rolled her eyes and smirked. “Shut up.”

They sat there quietly for a moment before Toby spoke again. “Rosco’s butcher shop.”

“Huh?”

“You can get pig’s blood at a butcher shop. Closest one is Rosco’s. My mom goes there to get the ham for Christmas.”

Grace smiled and nodded. “Okay.” She said with a heavy sigh as she swapped benches to sit beside Toby, “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, so…wanna start over?” She held a hand out for Toby to take.

“Why?” asked, glancing at the perfectly painted nails of her fingers.

“Because despite all of…that, I don’t feel like you’re a bad person.”

“Okay.” He smiled, shaking her hand. He stared at her nails for a moment, “Your nails look…really pretty.” He stared at his own still paint stained nails, “How do you remove the paint?”