“Here’s the story,” she says briskly. “We need you girls for choir”

“Rena and Baylee,” Miss Weller announces at the end of class. “Will you come see me in the props room during recess?”

Baylee and I look at each other, surprised. If Miss Weller is usually busy, then three weeks into production she’s ten times busier. The play, the props, the costumes, the technical details — she’s constantly busy with the production heads, the play heads, or all four at once, with another six girls clamoring for attention behind them.

“What does she want from us?” I ask Baylee, as we pack our books away.

Baylee gives an elaborate shrug. “Maybe something to do with our parts in the play?”

“What’s there to say about them?” I mutter, but then I wonder...

Could it be that Miss Weller wants to change something? Give us different parts? Give me a different part?

My mind flashes back to rehearsal: Maybe Chani’s given up her part? She needs a new Maria? But what about Baylee, why is she also being called in? What if something had come up for Mindy — Lucia? A wedding in Eretz Yisrael, a cousin’s simchah... maybe she was backing out? Ugh, no, it couldn’t be, no one would give up such a part, not for anything in the world.

More likely she wants us to help out backstage or something. Do the playbill or help with scenery. Perfect for the girls with only 20 lines in the entire play.

The props room is actually a small office that’s usually used for tutoring sessions, except for two months a year, when it gets transformed into a treasury of weird and wonderful items: an elaborate, carved armchair, an inkwell and feather, a heavy, wooden chest. Miss Weller is sitting on the armchair, the only seat there is in the room, so Baylee and I stand near the door, awkwardly.

“Here’s the story,” she says briskly. “We need you girls for choir.”

My mouth drops, and my heart goes with it.