Read Online The Mechanical Theater by Brooke Johnson - Free Book Online

you do that for me?” asked Mr. Niles, narrowing his eyes. “This theater could use your talents.”
    She hesitated a moment before answering quietly, “Yes, sir.”
    Mr. Niles smiled. “Good. Thank you, Miss Ferrier. Treat me with respect and I will treat you equally. Any actor here will tell you the same.” He glanced at each of the other actors onstage. “Now, let’s try this again.”
    The actors ran through their lines again, and when Mr. Niles called the end of the scene, they shared a collective sigh of relief.
    “It wasn’t perfect,” said the theater director. “But it was better.” He gestured to the stairs and checked his pocket watch. “We still have time to move on to the next scene.” He reopened his script and gestured toward the seats. “Miss Kozlowski, Miss Appleton, Miss Lachance, and Mr. Blair, if you will take your places . . .” He waved them onto the stage.
    Dahlia rose from her chair and trudged up the stairs, no energy in her movements. She took her place next to Marion and stared blankly at the wall, her arms hanging limply at her sides.
    The actors began their lines, and Solomon swept his way to the stage, listening to Marion berate the poor actor who played her messenger. The young man quailed under her gaze.
    “ Didst thou behold Octavia? ” asked Marion.
    “ Ay, dread queen ,” said the messenger, his voice shaking.
    “ Where? ” she asked.
    He wrung his hands, and sweat shined on his face. “ M-­Madam, in Rome; ” He closed his eyes and swallowed. “ I—­I look’d —­” He cleared his throat. “ I look’d her in the—­the —­”
    “Oh, come on, man,” said a voice in the audience. “Can’t you read ?”
    Mr. Niles glared at the first row of seats. “Mr. Creighton, quiet.” He faced the young man who was onstage and nodded. “Go on, Mr. Blair.”
    The boy sucked in a rattled breath and looked down at his script, the paper shaking in his hands. “ I—­I look’d her in the f-­face, and s-­s-­saw her —­” He squeezed his eyes shut again. “—­ and saw her l-­led b-­between her brother and—­and Mark Antony .”
    He sighed and bowed his head, his shoulders slack.
    Marion dropped character and gently touched his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous,” she said. “You’re doing fine. You just need to practice a little more and get used to being onstage.”
    “I’m sorry.” The boy stared at the floor. “I don’t mean to be so . . .” He pressed his lips together. “ . . . so awful . I’m ruining it. I know I am.”
    She shook her head. “You did well at auditions, Mr. Blair. I was there. I saw you. Be a little more confident, all right? I know you can do it. I believe in you.”
    “Really?” he asked, raising his eyes to her.
    A few of the actors in the chairs snickered, but Marion ignored them. “Yes. Really.” She nodded. “Now shall we try again?”
    Mr. Blair nodded slowly. “All right.” He sucked in a deep breath and read the lines again, faltering less over the words and even projecting his voice with a measure of confidence.
    “You see?” said Marion. “That was much better. Wasn’t it Mr. Niles?”
    “Indeed,” said the director, his eyes on his script. “Continue.”
    They rehearsed through the rest of the scene, and when it came to Dahlia’s lines, her performance was dull and dry, with no life at all, her apathy slowly dragging everyone else down. Even Marion faltered, distracted by Dahlia’s lack of character. When Mr. Niles finally called the end of the scene, Dahlia looked to have tears in her eyes.
    “Mr. Blair,” said Mr. Niles. “You did much better this last run. Well done.”
    The young man nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
    Then the director straightened and checked his pocket watch. “I think that’s all for tonight. You all should be getting home.” He pocketed his timepiece and flipped through the script. “Tomorrow, we’ll start with act three, scene four, and go through to—­” He