The next few weeks were a blur of music and fur as the production of Cats started to come together. Rose arrived to the rehearsal the day before the show with growing anxiety. She had never been involved in any kind of performance before and she was getting freaked. What if she messed up?

She took her usual seat next to Ellie and waited for Broer and Cowdrey to get them all started. The dancers and actors were all already dressed in their costumes with their make up. Ellie made a cute tabby, Rose thought as she sat down. Tommy arrived, long hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing dark jeans and a black button down shirt instead of his uniform. She raised her eyebrows at Ellie, pointing at him.

"It's the dress rehearsal," Ellie said as if it should be obvious.

No one had told Rose about wearing anything in particular for the show. Her uniform skirt seemed to stare back at her as she tried to decide what to do. She leapt from her seat and ran out and up. Once she was in her room, it only took her seconds to swap the skirt and shirt for the nicest dress the dean has chosen for her. It was dark gray with subtle sparkles and a flared skirt. She threw off her converse and socks and slid into black flats, running all the way back downstairs.

She was winded as she slipped back into the room, where Broer was already addressing the group.

"Today is it, this is all the time we have left. We all stay here, twice through the whole thing. After dinner, back again for one more run. Let's go, Rose and Tommy, into the pit, everyone else, places."

Ellie hugged Rose excitedly. She didn't seem nervous at all. Maybe it was because she had the benefit of hiding behind all that make up. At least Rose could hide in the pit. She would be heard and not seen, which was both terrifying and welcome. She skittered down the steps into the dark cave of instruments.

"Ssssss," Tommy sucked air through his teeth.

Rose looked over in concern, thinking he must have hurt himself. His face was red and he held his hand to his chest. She stepped toward him with a furrowed brow, tipping her head to the side and reaching a hand out to help him. He took her extended hand in his and smiled up at her, slight dimples digging into his cheeks. His touch was soft, and Rose had no doubt what it meant. She stepped back, tugging her hand free, and sat at the piano. Her heart pounded in her ears, muting all the clamor around her, and her face went hot and red. She stared at her hands, trying to make sense of this. She was angry.

What a...a... Ugh! Her indignation did a pretty good job of pushing down the flutter in her heart that made her want to let him hold her hand again.

"Yo, Cali," he whispered. "We're on."

She sat up straight, nodded and waited for his count. They began the overture, and it took all Rose had in her to follow his lead. They played through the show twice before dinner and again after, ending late into the night, and still Rose awoke the next morning filled with fear. That night she would have to perform in front of more than a thousand people. She ate breakfast alone and quickly, staring blankly out the window as the melodies for the show swirled through her mind. Her stomach clenched and acid stung her throat. She ran from the dining hall and vomited into the nearest trash can.

««•»»

Alastair had an easy day, he thought at lunch. Last night he had watched the dress rehearsals from different points in the room to make sure the sets were right, and the show had fallen into place nicely. The play itself was cute, and the performers were strong. But, Alastair thought the costumes and make up really made the whole thing work. They were elaborate, modeled after the Broadway production. It was going to be a spectacle.

It was scheduled to begin at seven, and they were expecting a full house of parents and alumni. They would have shows every Friday and Saturday night for three weeks, with two Sunday afternoon shows. It was common for the usual Broadway audience to attend Whitman's spring play, which was well known in New York. Many had gone from the school's stage to stardom.

"Hey, Silver," Raj Sandha called from the hallway as Alastair finished his meal. "You have a call."

Alastair was equal parts confused and concerned. It must be something bad. It must be his mother. He left his tray of food, rushing toward the stairs.

"Who is it?" he asked as he caught up with Raj.

"Dunno, but she sounded hot."

Alastair wrinkled his forehead. "It better not be my mom, dude."

They laughed as they parted ways, but Alastair really hoped it wasn't. He lifted the receiver off of the table in the phone nook of the boys' first floor lounge.

"Yeah?"

"Hi-lo!"

"Huh? Who is this?" Alastair recognized the sarcastic laugh that followed. "Keira."

"So, you do remember me," she smacked.

"Sure. What's up?" he grimaced, realizing how lame he sounded.

"I need a hugemongous favor. Like, ginormous."

"Ok. What?" He really didn't want to know the answer. There was no way it could be good.

"Can you get me some Amp?" She continued quickly, speaking at a pace most people wouldn't be able to understand, "Or, the ingredients to make Amp? Either one would be cool."

Alastair leaned against the door, staring at the numbers on the phone. 2-5-2-8-8-2-4-7. The silence stretched as he spelled his name in numbers, the nerdiest of all the nerds. 8-4-5-9-3-7. He should not agree to this. It was foolish. It was dangerous. It was stupid. He pictured Keira on the other end of the line in her black clothes and messy hair. He pictured her pink bra.

"Hello?" she grumbled, clearly becoming annoyed. Her voice faded away as if she was talking to someone else, "I don't know, he didn't answer me."

Mason Warner strutted through the lounge, grinning like he got away with something. Like he got away with everything. Like he got away with Sarah.

Keira interrupted his thoughts, "I'll give you a hundred bucks."

"Okay," he acquiesced. "What's your number? I'll call you back when I have it."

Alastair knew that this was a bad idea, but maybe that was part of why he did it. He had been the good boy for so long. No more. His adrenaline kicked in as he headed up the stairs to Jackson's classroom.

The door was open, but Jackson wasn't there. Alastair closed the door gently behind him and stepped quickly to the storage cabinet in the back. It was unlikely that Jackson had left any Amp sitting here, or any of its ingredients for that matter, but it was the easiest place to look.

He was surprised to find both the ingredients and the completed potion there on the shelf. Several bottles of it. Why does Jackson need so much Amp? he wondered. He didn't really have time to dissect the reasons, so he grabbed two bottles from the back of the stash and shoved them in his pocket.

He hurried toward the door, but in his haste, he bumped into the edge of Jackson's desk, spilling a tall coffee cup all over the pages and open books.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, leaning down to clean up.

He evaporated away the coffee with a simple cleaning spell, but the papers and books were stained dark brown. The top paper was warm as if the coffee had been fresh, and he castigated himself for agreeing to this, thinking that the risk wasn't really worth the reward. He had been in there too long. Jackson could be back any second, and Alastair would be in huge trouble, like expelled trouble, if they caught him stealing. But he definitely didn't have time to put the vials back. He frantically tried to clean the worst of the pages, a typed note. He became distracted by the words:

We must join forces to fight against these men. We will do whatever we must to stop them, no matter the cost. You have been warned.

Alastair flipped the paper to check the back, wondering who and where it had come from. It looked to him like someone was threatening Jackson, perhaps about the intruders. Alastair stared blankly at the large book on the desk for a few moments, lost in thought. Noise from the hallway startled him, so he shoved the damaged note in his pocket with the vials, closed the book, and exited the room in a rush.

A group of seniors laughed loudly down the hall, and Alastair slipped unnoticed into the classroom wing stairs. He sat down in the stairwell after running up several flights. This day had been nothing like he expected. He had no idea how much worse it was going to get.

««•»»

Rose stared in the mirror with anxiety eating away at her insides. The play was set to begin in just over an hour, and she was already late for their call time. She knew the songs upside down and sideways, yet nervousness had settled into her gut, and like a defiant evicted tenant, refused to leave. Fussing in the mirror was just a delay tactic, but nevertheless, she found flaws everywhere she looked. Her hair was stringy. She combed it through with her fingers. Her dress was too short. She tugged at the hem. Her necklace was askew. She straightened it, pulling the clasp around to the back.

"They say it means someone is thinking of you." Rose turned to find Ellie standing in her doorway. "When the hook comes around to the front. Supposably that means someone is thinking of you."

Rose grinned, wanting to correct her unusually bad pronunciation.

"I can't perform. It's official. I couldn't get anyone on the phone, but Broer said my dad gave the final no," Ellie flopped onto Rose's bed dejectedly. "It's so unfair. I worked so hard. And they have no good reason. 'Dancing distracts me from my studies,' my brother said. Whatever. Dancing is the only reason I study. Ms. Broer won't let us participate without a B average."

Rose sat on the corner and patted Ellie's shoulder.

"Can you believe," Ellie squawked, sitting up, "that they don't even want me to go watch the show? I mean, what kind of stupid stuff is that?"

Rose shook her head in commiseration, wishing she could do more.

"Hey, maybe I could sit down in the pit with you! Yeah. Come on, Rose, whaddya say?"

It didn't matter to Rose either way. She wouldn't be able to see anything down there, but if it made her happy, why not? Rose's half-shrug, half-nod was crushed by Ellie's excited arms.

"Yay! Oh, thank you, Rose. You are so awesome and totally the best friend anyone could ever have. I would have felt so left out up here all alone."

Rose and Ellie made their way down to the first floor changing room and took the long underground walkway that led to the backstage area. Rose signed in quickly with Ms. Broer as Ellie slunk past, and the two scurried into the pit. Tommy already sat behind his drums, tapping at the air with the sticks.

"What, are you on West Coast time, Cali? You were supposed to be here almost an hour ago," Tommy chided her, but when Rose turned to shoot him an angry look, his grin was so goofy, she couldn't help but chuckle.

She shook her head and sat at the piano. Ellie huddled next to her and breathed into her ear, "Oh. My. God. He's unreasonably hot."

Rose snorted and shoved Ellie away.

"Seriously," she whispered way too loud for Rose's comfort, "and it's, like, so much more intense up close." Ellie scooted down the pit a ways, grabbed a chair, and slid it back next to the piano. Rose smirked as she noticed Ellie repositioning the chair so she could watch both Rose and Tommy at the same time.

The lights in the theater dimmed, then lit up over the seats only. They were in thick darkness in the pit, which was how it would remain until intermission. Rose became aware of her heart thudding heavily as she waited for the darkening of the house lights, which was Tommy's cue to begin.

Alastair and the other student officers were assigned to work as ushers that night, so he slouched next to a fidgeting Maggie as they greeted the students, staff, families and friends.

"Maggie, will you calm down! Why are you so antsy anyway?"

"I dunno. I have a weird feeling. I was up by the locker rooms on twelve, and--" she was cut off by the dimmed lights and escalating music that signaled the start of the play. Alastair and Maggie closed the doors and slid into seats at the back. The play was truly a marvel. He appreciated how an audience adds to a show. When he watched the dress rehearsal, the performances were perfect, but now they were charged with excitement as if someone had given the whole group an electric shock. It was better than ever, the performers seeming to gain power and energy from the crowd watching them.

The music was especially dynamic. Rose captured the emotions of the characters with her orchestrations better than the singers did with their words. It was as if she had been holding back all the Empathy for this moment. Alastair found himself again amazed by her.

For Rose, it felt like the first half of the play was over before she had a chance to breathe in. When the house lights came on for intermission, she breathed out and looked over at Tommy, who smiled brightly.

He stood and stretched, so she did as well. "Good job, Cali. It was perfect," he stepped closer and slid one arm over her shoulders as he spoke. Rose nodded, looking sideways up into his face. His eyes seemed to change color every time she saw them. Tonight they were almost sea green, like glass that's been tumbled in the ocean.

"Rose! Tommy! That was fantastic!" Bennett and his wife walked over to greet them.

"Thanks, man. It was a long haul."

"It sounded amazing. You two make a great team," Mrs. Bennett said, a smile spreading across her face.

Bennett turned to his wife, "You would never know she can't stand him, would you?"

"Aw, why?" she frowned.

Rose gaped at them and shook her head, but Tommy chuckled. "He's just giving you a hard time, Cali," he said into her hair.

"So, Tommy, we're all squared away for this summer. You have your class at NYU in the evening, and you will help at GP during the day. And we've got our guest room all set up for you again."

Tommy extended his right hand forward and shook both their hands. "Thank you guys so much. I really appreciate all you've done for me."

Rose had a brief, desperate thought that perhaps she could stay there too. Maybe if she told Bennett about Avery. It was something to consider.

Alastair squeezed through the milling crowd to the front, hoping to tell Rose how well she had done. As he got closer, he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. Alastair was disgusted to see that Tommy Roarke had his arm around her, holding her like he owned her. What was it with these girls? They always picked the worst guys. They smiled and laughed with Mr. Bennett and his wife. Part of him wanted to turn away, but he was in a troublesome mood. So he went over to them and interrupted.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bennett, I think the dean was looking for you," he lied.

"Oh, okay. Well, great job again you guys. And you, too, Alastair. The sets are phenomenal."

Alastair smiled, "Thanks, and Rose, I actually came down here to tell you how beautiful," he paused as Tommy pulled Rose closer, "the music was."

Rose beamed, her dark eyes shining like obsidian in the bright lights. She took Tommy's left hand and pulled it off her shoulder, stepping away. Alastair smiled back, and reached forward to hug her across the railing. He raised his eyebrows at Tommy over her shoulder, who glared and shook his head, seeming to grow angry. It was funny; he didn't have any interest in going out with her. She was... well, she wasn't Sarah. But he cringed at the thought of Tommy dating her. Rose was too good for him. So if this pissed Tommy off, made him think they had something going, well, great. Maybe then he would leave her alone.

Alastair pulled away and waved a silent goodbye before heading up to the back doors to welcome the audience back at the end of intermission. He slumped in his chair, brooding and stewing over the way Tommy had cuddled up to Rose. But why should Alastair feel that Tommy was in his territory? It's not like he loved her.

But there was something about Rose, a connection that made him feel both protective and drawn to her at once. She was beautiful, for one thing. Even Maggie had the hots for her. But she was also special. Powerful. And she had used that power to save him. It wasn't love that he felt--she was too young, and he would never stop loving Sarah--but it was something. Something more than just friends.

As the crowd settled into their seats, the house lights dimmed, leaving the theater in darkness so complete it made anxiety dig into his sides. And that worry was justified. Where music should have emanated from the orchestra pit, the auditorium was instead filled with sounds of drums crashing and girls screaming. Then silence. Alastair felt his breathing accelerate and noticed Maggie shifting in her seat next to him.

It was a moment or two before the crowd began to murmur, realizing that this was not part of the show, and another minute before the lights came up.

"They're gone!" someone shouted down front. "No wait, Roarke's here, but he's knocked out."

The volume doubled as people began to panic. Alastair ran to the front, pushing past crowds as he went. The dean and Mrs. Bennett were attempting to revive Tommy, who had a huge red lump on his forehead, adding to the bruise that still glowed on his face from when Alastair accidentally punched him instead of Mason. Alastair would have felt bad if it were anyone else. Except Mason, he thought. Bennett and Cain were heading onto the stage as Coach Jensen tried to break down the obviously barricaded door to the underground walkway. Rose was nowhere to be seen.

Rose had been ready to play when the lights went down, but instead of Tommy's soft clicking of sticks, the door behind him had been thrust open. Three men in nice suits walked quietly in, lighted by the hallway behind. Rose assumed they were lost.

Tommy must have had the same thought. "Hey, you can't be down here," he whispered, standing up.

One of the men pulled out a pistol and slammed Tommy in the face. His eyes bugged out a bit before closing, and his body slumped with a crashing thud as he knocked over the high-hat cymbals on his way down. Rose stood. Ellie screamed. The men grabbed them both. Rose kicked and fought, but she and Ellie were dragged out into the underground passageway.

The two larger men carried Rose and Ellie, one hand each clamped over their mouths, one arm wrapped around their waists. They turned right instead of left, going away from where Rose and Ellie had entered earlier. After a couple of turns, the group of five ended up in a small storeroom lit by a single overhead bulb, where another man waited. Rose recognized him instantly. Even though he had worn a mask at the museum, she would never forget those eyes. They were gray and cold and gleamed now with satisfaction.

"Hello, Rose," he said calmly. Rose had the impression that he meant for that to scare her. Like, ooooh, he knows my name. Instead, it pissed her off. Rose was angry. She had enough of this. She bit down hard on the hand over her mouth, drawing blood.

"Aaaagh! Bitch," grunted the muscled man. Then he punched her cheek, a short, quick jab, clearly holding back some force. It hurt, it would leave a bruise, but nothing was broken. When he cocked his fist again, Rose ducked and shielded herself with her arms.

"Settle down, Torres." The man holding Ellie released her to stop Torres from hitting again, which was his first mistake. Ellie screamed. People thought Ellie was loud on a normal day. They had no idea. She screamed now like she was auditioning for a horror movie. She screamed like you wish you could in the nightmares where you can't scream at all.

The boxer went ahead and punched her too, which had the desired effect of stopping her screaming. But now she was sobbing.

"We're not using names, remember, Roberts," he growled at his partner.

The gray-eyed man raised his hands in a calming gesture at his two associates.

"Rose, Rose. It didn't have to get violent. I just want to talk," he said. "Tell me, what did you mean when you told your grandparents, let me see," he flipped open a folder and read from it, "How did you put it, 'I have pretty goo dripping out of my finger'? What did you mean by that, Rose?" He closed the file and looked at Rose expectantly.

Rose stared back defiantly. Even if she could answer him, there was no way in hell she would. She spit the blood from Torres' hand in his direction, wiped her mouth and glared at the man like she would like to bite him as well.

"You will answer me eventually. Let's take them both with us," he instructed the others.

As they stepped back into the hallway, they were surrounded by black mist.

"Run," growled a voice. Rose hesitated, but Ellie pushed past her and disappeared beyond the dark swirls. Rose knew that voice, but she didn't know from where. She didn't really care right now. All she wanted to do was get to safety, so she ran, not really sure how to get back to the main hall. As she scrabbled forward, she found the under-stage trapdoor. There was a compartment there that was used for magic tricks, like in Vegas shows. Rose decided she might be better off hidden, so she slid into the cupboard and waited in the darkness.

Alastair was tempted to run after Cain and Bennett, wanting to find Rose, but the dean called him over to help clear the auditorium.

"Send them home, Alastair. Avoid causing a panic, but get these people out of here."

He nodded and passed the word around to the other SOs. They began to herd the crowd out to the main hall, and most went without a fuss. Before long, the theater was cleared of all the family and guests, and the younger students were accompanied by their teachers to the dorms. A small group of performers, teachers, and SOs milled around in the front hall waiting for answers. It was disturbingly quiet and still.

Then a cloud of black mist, shouting voices, and twisting forms appeared from the classroom wing. It was difficult to discern exactly what was going on, but Alastair knew one thing for certain: there were dark practitioners inside the school. He just hoped Rose wasn't one of the many bodies carried along in the mist.

There was a loud crack and a glass display shattered. The crowd screamed and ducked.

Dean Whitley shouted, "Gun!" Another two pops echoed as more bullets found places to lodge.

Most of the people ran from the hall and up the stairs, but many just flattened themselves to the ground. Alastair found it hard to breathe. The bloom of dark magic had some kind of choking spell in it, squeezing the air from their lungs. Then, suddenly it was gone, and air flooded back into his lungs, burning like when he would hold his breath too long in an over-chlorinated pool.

Rose heard what sounded like a series of gunshots, and without a blink of hesitation, she clicked the button that would lift her up to the stage. If someone were hurt--because of her--she had to go help. The trapdoor carried her up and out, and she ran through the deserted theater to the front hall.

As she rounded the corner, she saw a puff of black mist fading into the air near the front doors. A small crowd was gathered underneath it, and she heard murmuring. It sounded like they said "Bennett." And "dead."

But no. No, that couldn't be.

The whispers grew into mournful cries, and Rose knew it was true.

She bolted towards them, trying to cover the distance as quickly as she could. Yet it felt like everything was moving in slow motion, like a bad dream.

Whitley called out from her left, "Stop her!"

Rose was caught around the waist by heavy arms, and she kicked instinctively, remembering the arms that had held her against her will just minutes ago. The force of her velocity slammed against his strength, and they were spun. Tommy sank low to the ground with Rose still clutched in his arms, crouching on one knee with his other leg up as if to shield her. The crowd parted, and she saw. Bennett had been shot in the gut, had bled what looked like gallons all over the lobby's white marble floor. His wife held his face in her hands, and she wept.

Rose wept. Tommy reached his right hand up and across and pulled her face toward his. "Don't look," he whispered into her ear. His large thumb dabbed at the chubby tears falling. She sobbed. This was her fault. Those men were here for her, to take her. And now Bennett was dead instead, surrounded in blood. Her body began to shake, as if it could not contain her emotion. Tommy pressed his face into her hair and cheek. Rose felt his hot, wet tears smearing with hers. "I know, Cali, I know. It's okay," he whispered hoarsely. His lips softly brushed her cheek, then again more firmly. And again. Was he kissing her?

Rose peeled his arms away and stood up angrily. She looked back at him in disgust. Seriously? Now? She shook her head and walked away, up the stairs, to her dorm. Ms. Steele was there with the 8th and 9th graders.

"Thank god, Rose," she said. Then she saw Rose's tear-streaked face. "What is it? What's happened?" What could she say? Nothing. There was nothing to say.