“Hey y’all, let’s square it up,” Kevin Blakely said over the mi1crophone.
“Don’t think,” Lewis Magruder said to the line of a dozen cast members sitting at the edge of the stage, with their backs to the rows of seats that would be filled with audience members next week.
It was a beautiful sort of chaos.
Growing up, Irish step dancing was a staple in my elementary and middle school talent shows. Every year, there would be at least one girl wearing a wig with tight red ringlet curls, a green dress with a Celtic pattern and black shoes with white knee-high socks.
“Hey, are you auditioning for ‘Octets?’”
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