ACT 2, SCENE 2

THE TOASTER WAS ON FIRE.

To clarify, it wasn't his fault. 

After all, how could Aarav have known that Aadhira would set off a smoke alarm the second he turned his back? He had only been looking through the cabinets for the box of pop-tarts for a minute when his sister tugged on his sleeve to inform him the toaster was 'dying.'

Dying—what an understatement. More like hell's wrath had descended upon their kitchen and claimed an innocent silver toaster as its first victim. 

"What did you do?" he grumbled and yanked her away. A kitchen fire did nothing to ease the pulsing pain in his head. Aarav soaked a dish towel under running water and tossed it over the flames. 

"I just pressed something, like that would turn the toaster on and warm it up for the pop-tart."

"You mean preheating?" Aarav sighed and massaged his temples, trying to wish his headache away. "Toasters don't need that."

"Sorry." With big round puppy eyes, Aadhira blinked and hugged her elephant against her chest. 

Leaning on the counter's edge, he removed the towel and peered inside the slots, where blackened crumbs clung to the metal sides. Parts of metal were warped and burnt, and while the toaster still looked somewhat functional, Aarav now needed to go toaster shopping. 

"There's food stuck inside," he said and patted his sister's head, then draped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about it. It's not your fault." 

"We can dig out the food." 

"Don't bother. We should buy a new one anyway." He was about to unplug the cord when Aadhira stuck a butter knife inside. A pit of icy dread formed in his stomach when she dug it deeper into the slots.    

"Aadhira, stop—"

A sudden white flash seared his vision, followed by a loud boom. Upon instinct, Aarav grabbed his sister and jerked her away, spinning around so that his body shielded her. Slowly, he opened one eye. The toaster had burst open, smoke pouring from it with charred pieces scattered across the ground and counter. The acrid smell of burnt plastic—or evil toast demons—hung in the air. Aside from that, the rest of the kitchen appeared unharmed. Aadhira's lone butter knife lay in the center of the ruins. 

Hell was empty and all the devils had been right inside the tiny electrical appliance. 

"Are you hurt?" Aarav asked roughly. He knelt down and took Aadhira's hands in his, examining the stubby fingers for any traces of injury. In contrast, his were long and thin, marked with hardened calluses and peeling skin. 

"Is that my fault?" she asked. 

Without answering, Aarav grabbed a pair of gloves to pick up the pieces. He hurled them into the trash and tossed the knife into the sink. "Let's keep this a secret from Amma." 

Her head bobbed up and down. "Promise. I'll listen to you better from now on." 

As though on cue, the home phone rang. Aadhira dashed over and picked up the cordless device. "Hello?" Amma's voice crackled with static. 

Aarav slipped off a glove and retrieved the phone from Aadhira, pressing it to his ear. "Hello." 

"Have you eaten yet?" 

He glanced at the empty counter where the toaster once resided. "We were about to." 

"Alright, make sure your sister eats enough too. She's so tiny. All the kids in her grade are bigger than her." 

"Of course, Amma." Aarav hung up.

Setting the gloves aside, he leaned against the counter, forehead resting against the palm of his hand. Unfortunately, the dull throbbing that plagued his head on and off for the past couple of days only intensified now. The pressure often began behind his eyes, pushing outward from the brain, then moved to the front of his head. Aarav released a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. 

"Are you okay?" Aadhira tugged at his sleeve and looked up at him with large round eyes. "You're not mad at me, right?" 

He forced a smile for her sake and said, "No, I'm not mad at you." He adjusted his glasses and headed to the cabinets to look for the aspirin. Aarav dumped about 1300 mg into his palm and swallowed the tablets dry. 

. . .

Kneeling before her, Má flipped Jackie's hand over and pressed a cotton pad to the cut. Blood had smeared across Jackie's fingers, red mixed with soapy water seeping into the lines and trailing down the ridges of her bones, while she left behind shining crimson prints on the marbled counter. 

Her mother's hands, rough and worn from years of working in nail salons and flower shops, with blue-green veins running across the skin, clasped around hers. Pressing, tightening, as though they could absorb the pain. 

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Jackie blinked away the tears welling up in her eyes, ignoring the stabbing pain pulsating through her hand. Má dabbed away at the blood then reached for a band-aid, brown and speckled with holes. Nimbly, she wrapped it around the cut and pressed a soft kiss to the skin, her lips soft, her breath warm. Like Jackie was still a little kid and a light kiss was the cure to all her problems.

"I'll finish the dishes," Má said as she stood. "This wouldn't have happened if you used gloves as I told you." 

Jackie wiped off the remaining blood and let her hand fall to the side. The bright pink latex gloves, lying ignored on the side of the sink, were too large and uncomfortable. "I'll do it. I'm almost done anyway."

A shake of the head left no room for argument. "You should be heading to school for that play."

"You'll be there right?" 

Her mother nodded and stored away the first-aid kit. "Don't forget your phone in case of an emergency." 

She raised her phone and made a show of tucking it into her bag. Jackie headed outside and waited on the doorsteps for Aarav's silver Lexus. He was supposed to pick her up since Madison had taken the Asters' Rolls Royce to go shopping with her friends. She rested her elbows on her knees, chin propped against the palm of her hands. Absently, Jackie ran a thumb over the band-aid, pressing it deep against the cut. 

It was another ten minutes before Aarav's car pulled up to her house, the late afternoon sunlight glinting off the smooth paint. She was only a couple steps from the passenger door when a tiny girl slammed straight into her, wrapping her arms around Jackie's waist. 

"Aadhira," said Aarav, who walked around the front of the car, "you can't just hug random people." 

He tugged the child off Jackie. "Ask her if she wants a hug first." 

"Can me and Flappy give you a hug?" Aadhira asked obediently and held out a worn stuffed elephant with giant floppy ears. 

"Flappy and I," Aarav corrected.

"Of course I'd like a hug."

Once more, Aadhira's arms wrapped excitedly around her, squeezing the elephant between them. Aarav ushered both of them into the car, Jackie in the passenger seat, Aadhira in the back. 

"Apologies for the wait. We had a kitchen issue." Aarav leaned over to adjust the rear-view mirror while he pulled out the driveway. 

"It exploded!" A giant grin on her face, Aadhira kicked her feet and threw her hands in the air. 

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "It was dangerous and we are not going to do it again." 

"Awwww." Her lips twisted into a pout and she hugged Flappy closer to her chest. 

"No, not aw. Yay because you weren't injured." 

"How did the toaster explode anyway?" Jackie asked.

With a heavy sigh, Aarav drummed his fingers against the wheel. "She stuck a knife in it." 

"It was on fire earlier too!" Aadhira chimed in.

Eyebrows raising, Jackie twisted in her seat for a better look at the girl. She and her brother had the same thick black hair, golden-brown skin, and dark eyes. But where Aarav's features were sharp and angular and his gaze hardened; she had a soft, round face with a glittering innocence brimming in her eyes. Aadhira's hair was in two long braids, partially crooked, that were tied clumsily at the ends. Briefly, Jackie glanced at Aarav, who kept his eyes trained in the road. 

"You coming to see the play?" 

The little girl nodded stubbornly. "Anna promised. He doesn't break promises." 

"Do you know what it's about?" When Aadhira shook her head. Jackie leaned forward and in a dramatic voice, said, "There's a princely hero who lost the love of his life. He decides to use magic to bring her back to life." 

"So she's not dead?"

"Not anymore. He has story-spinning magic, so the tales he writes will become reality." At Aadhira's wide-eyed gaze and loud gasp, Jackie grinned. "But there's an evil sorceress with the same type of magic. She wants to control the town and she sees the hero as a threat." 

"No!" Aadhira clung tighter to her elephant. 

"Yes," Jackie hissed. 

"Do they win in the end?" 

"Well, that's why you're watching our play. Better watch to find out." 

"Are there elephants?" 

Jackie laughed. "No elephants, but maybe we'll do one with them later." 

"I want a real elephant but Amma said no." 

"And for a fair reason," Aarav cut in. His dark eyes flashed in the mirror overhead. 

"I can ride my new elephant friend to school!" Aadhira protested. 

"And cause traffic jams, no doubt." He pulled into a parking spot close to the school and turned the engine off. Jackie released a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the knots tying up in her stomach, and stepped out of the car. 

"You go change," Aarav ordered. "I'll catch up with you later." 

. . .

Jackie changed into her first costume, set her folded clothes in the corner, and claimed a mirror to adjust her hair. She undid her ponytail and combed it out with her fingers. It was the typical Southeast Asian hair: black and pin-straight with a refusal to hold styling. Nothing too fancy could be accomplished, so she decided to simply pin back the face-framing locks.

She set the gold circlet on her head. In a blue-green dress with her long hair down, Jackie didn't look like herself though she supposed that was the point. Nevertheless, she was still amazed at how effectively costumes could change a person. She was transported from her high school life to the fairytale world of The Clockwork Town. Smiling at her reflection, she curtsied dramatically then headed out to the wings.

Taking a deep breath, Jackie closed her eyes and counted to eight in hopes of settling her nerves—an old trick her father had taught her. Eight was considered lucky, and she clung desperately to that shred of possibility. She could hear the murmurs of the audience even from wings. 

The Vietnamese word for stress, Má once told her, was căng thẳng, literally to stretch straight. Like a string yanked taut by a weight. Just how much weight could the string of human endurance handle before snapping?

"Nervous?" Liam flashed her a dazzling smile and reached for her hand. 

"A little." 

"You'll be great. You always are." He gave her a peck on the cheek, sending a tingle through her body. He was perfect as usual and knew the right words to say, but he did little to alleviate the relentless butterflies in her stomach. 

"Thanks."

Jackie smoothed out the skirt of the dress and absently picked at invisible stray threads. Everything Liam did was so cool and effortless, but she needed twice the effort to be half as great, struggling to even keep up. Even when the play was about to start, Liam still wore his easy grin, his hands still and steady at his sides. 

She fought the urge to peek out at the audience, knowing it would only intensify her anxiousness. Jackie swallowed hard and reached to toy with her red ribbon before realizing she'd taken it off. She'd given it to Aarav for safekeeping, and it'd been exchanged for the golden circlet that was part of Astoria's costume.

"Are you nervous?" she whispered.

Liam shook his head. "Not particularly. At this point, I know all the work everyone's poured in the play. Whatever happens will happen. Besides, worrying is Aarav's job." 

Gently pushing the curtain aside, Jackie peered out at the audience. In the center of the front row was her mother, black hair pulled into a neat bun, jade bracelets glittering from around her wrist. Immediately, she jerked away. If Má was watching, her botching a line would be even worse.

She refrained from biting her lip to not ruin the makeup. Aside from a few touch-ups, it must last until the end of the show. Thus, she distracted herself by playing with her hands and mentally reciting her lines while waiting for her cue. Focusing on her character took her mind off the audience. 

It was strange. Up until the start of the play, she'd been wracked with anxiety. But standing there, under the spotlight, made Jackie forget about the audience. She wholly became the character and was no longer herself. Maybe that was why she loved acting so much. She could be someone else for a while. 

Liam—no, Leon, knelt before the enchanted lake. The set had been exquisitely crafted with realistic reeds and filled with real water. It was silent but for the a slow susurrous rustle of wind rippling through the reeds. Overhead lights created a coruscating kaleidoscope of colors on the still surface so that the water seemed to almost glow from within. 

Eyes closed, he sat cross-legged in the middle of a circle of candles. Dipping the quill into a pot of ink, he pressed it to the paper with steady hands, ready to spin a glorious tale for the one he loved. Leon would give his part of heart to bring his lost love back to life. His humanity for hers. 

A flash of red light sliced through the actor's body, eliciting gasps from the audience. Heaving, he clutched his chest and a mangled scream ripped from his throat. The lights dimmed. The stage was enveloped in darkness while the sound of thunder echoed throughout the auditorium. 

Leon lifted his hands and there, in his palms, was a glowing crimson gem. As silent as a ninja, Jackie moved under the trapdoor and repeatedly counted to eight. Above onstage, the actor shakily broke the jewel apart and offered half to the heavens. 

A sharp splitting crack of lightning. The overhead lights flickered. The background music switched to a slow, haunting melody with string instrumentals. Notes were eerie, held for unnaturally long. 

An explosion of sparks. The music rose to a crescendo, the unsettling effects increased by discordant strings layered atop one another. Notes became sharper, more staccato, mimicking the hammering of a human heart.

At an echoing boom, bright white light flooded the auditorium. The smell of smoke lingered in the air. Papers swirled around Jackie's body while she was lifted onto the stage. Then, the light faded to reveal the character before the audience—the cynosure of all eyes. She turned her head, eyes widening in horror when she saw Leon's fallen body.

"No! Wake up, please!"

A strangled cry escaped her while she cradled his head in her lap. "He's hurt. He's hurt and it's because of me," she murmured in a strained voice and choked back a fake sob. 

Lifting the figure, she began to carry him off the stage. Her knees buckled and her knees gave way. Ominous laughter echoed throughout the pond and cut through her desperate cries. Green mist filled the air as a pair of black-clad feet appeared before Jackie's eyes. Smoke cleared to reveal the Anahi as the sorceress, who clapped her gloved hands.

"What did you do to him?" Jackie croaked. 

"Ah, I never did anything. This turn of events is all his own doing. Foolish, foolish mortal who suffers for love." 

She covered her face and vehemently shook her head. Tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. No, it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. It must be the witch's fault. Her stories were what made writing a cruel reality, what brought tragedy and misfortune to the town. 

The lights faded completely, leaving everyone in complete blackness, and it was time for the next scene. Jackie stood and dried her eyes before heading backstage, Liam following close behind. 

"You were amazing," he whispered into her ear.

She smiled hesitatingly, her body tingling with anticipation. "It's only the first act."

She had a theory similar to the Vietnamese superstition for Tết, in which the first day foretold how the rest of the year would unfold. Therefore, it only made sense that the first act on opening night predicted the play's fortune.

"You two were great!" Anahi said while hurrying past them to the other side of the stage. 

"Good luck," Jackie called. "Not that you'll need it." 

With a wink, Anahi tossed her hair over her shoulder before walking into her next scene. 

As Jackie predicted, the play continued wonderfully after the first act. She could scarcely believe the thunderous applause that filled the auditorium when it came time for the cast to take their bows. In acknowledgment, the actors gestured to the lighting and sound operators at the back of the auditorium before exiting the stage. 

With a content sigh, Jackie leaned against the dressing room door when it shut. Stepping before the mirror, she undid the barrettes, and her long black hair fell around her round oval face. Now bidding a silent farewell to Astoria, she washed off the heavy stage makeup and changed back into her own clothes. There were still faint smears of mascara and eyeliner that refused to come off, but she figured this sufficed for now. 

Jackie made her way to the bulletin board covered in schedules and contact sheets where Aarav was marking off squares on the calendar. Stiffening, he turned around and raised his eyebrows. 

His face was cast in fuscous shadows, which made his gaze more intense than usual. Aarav's eyes settled on her expectantly and his shoulders loosened. "Do you need something?"

Tilting her head, Jackie gestured to her hair. Eyes alight with realization, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red ribbon. "Right, I believe this is yours."

"Safe and sound." Smiling, she accepted it and tied her hair up in its usual ponytail. "Ready to head out?"

He nodded. "After you."