The Stairs (continued)

By Kira Rodriguez, Creative Writing

I looked around for Skyler, expecting her to be on the stairs again. She stood chatting with her friends in the corner, laughing and ignoring the scene on stage. It was a different sixth grader. It was uncommon, but it happened more than it should. I joined the girl on the stairs. She was upset about her cheating boyfriend, who apparently kissed some seventh grader, and just found out. I listened to her and gave her advice, then stood up and coached her through a breathing exercise before doing my usual dance. She laughed and thanked me, joining her friends backstage. I followed her closely behind, stopping to shoo away the thieving sixth graders and fix my props. 

“I have a question,” Skyler said, sneaking up behind me. “Why did you do your dance for that other girl? It’s our thing.”

“It isn’t just our thing. I do that dance for anyone upset.”

“But it’s our thing!”

She stormed off and sat on the stairs, acting like she wasn’t looking at me. I ignored her and joined Grace backstage. The chatter grew louder, drowning out Mrs. River’s directions. The lights consumed the actors on stage. A group of sixth–grade girls stood around my cart, placing necklaces around their necks and twirling around. The pounding of running feet echoed the deafening gossip. I looked at Grace, and she looked at me. She was right. My blood quickly boiled.

“Everyone, quiet!”

For once, silence.

“Some of us want to know what is happening on stage, but we can’t hear! And please, put the props down!”

I looked at Grace, and she looked at me with a thankful smile. I sent a weak smile back before fighting my way through the crowd of murmuring kids. I took a seat on the now–empty stairs, and there I sat, knowing no one would come and calm me down, knowing no one would give me advice, knowing that no one would do a goofy dance for me.

It was always me. The mama bear who eased the tears of anyone who sat on the steps. It was never the crew or anyone else in the cast; it wasn’t Mrs. Rivers or the choreographer, who were here voluntarily. They were too busy standing at the bottom of the stage. It wasn’t those who worked in costumes and makeup, even though they walked past the stairs more times than the leads were on stage. 

Just me.

Grace stepped through the doorway that led to the steps, a smile absent from her usually rosy face. 

“Mrs. Rivers wants everyone on stage.”

I followed her out, joining everyone on stage. The white light was dimmed so we could see Mrs. Rivers. A frown rested on her face. She began her speech about how backstage was too loud, how the actors on stage could barely hear her directions. 

“This can not happen during the show.” She shook her head as she eyed the sixth graders before shifting her gaze to everyone. Her eyes landed on me. “We don’t need to yell at everyone either.”

She was right. I shouldn’t have yelled, but what other choice did I have? I was mama bear, the one everyone went to because the adults were too busy, and the high school crew that volunteered their time to help the middle schoolers couldn’t care less. It looked good on an application. I shouldn’t have yelled, so I stopped. 

I stopped it all.

It was a relief, a weight off my shoulders. Grace could see the stress evaporate off me as I watched the chaos unfold. The crying stairs were someone else’s problem for the next week.