The water was shut off.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," he mumbled. "I'll go at the school."

"You do that. And be home here by four. You'll have to bring in those clothes and go to the market.”

And the water rushed again.

Dick Nelson said, "There's Bob Nickerson." Dave Reece said, "Is that interesting."

From the stage where the monk's cloth curtains were pulled back, the two boys stared out over the empty ranks of varnished seat backs in the school auditorium. It was a large, plain room, with rows of steel-framed windows along each yellow wall. The windows were open to let in the fine warm air of the June morning. Outside could be seen the lacy green tops of jacaranda trees with their clouds of purple blossom, and the red tile roofs and white walls of the other school buildings. The doors at the back of the auditorium were open too. In one doorway he hesitated, in his hand a brown paper bag of sandwiches.

"Hi, there, Bob."

Zoe Kemper tossed away her play script and hurried up the aisle. In her forties, a small, black-haired, black-eyed woman of much energy, she wore black toreador pants and a blouse printed with red hybiscus flowers to match her lipstick and nail polish. She put an arm around him and gave him a warm, encouraging smile, as if he were a much younger child.

"Come on. You've got a big part in this. We've been waiting for you." Gaily swinging his hand she led him down the aisle. She handed him a copy of the play, gave him a pat on the behind, and said, "All right-on stage, everybody." "But who am I?" Bob asked, stumbling up the steps.

"You're Peter."

Nelson murmured, "Oh, fine. Great part. Peter spends half the play hiding in a cedar chest."

"Well," Reece said, "at least that will keep him off our backs during rehearsals."

Nelson was tall, golden-haired and good to look at. Reece had white lashes and brows and his skin was blotched with pimples.

"Oh, he's a harmless jerk," Nelson shrugged.

"He's a pest," Reece said.

Irving Zimmerman leaned toward them, hissing, "Hey, you guys-"

And they became aware that the silence in the auditorium focussed on them. They glanced at Zoe. She tapped her foot in mock annoyance, arms folded, frown severe.

"If you gentlemen have finished your conversation, perhaps you'll permit us to start our rehearsal?"

Maxine Gamble and Phyllis Smith giggled at this. One girl was dark, slender and pretty, and her inseparable friend freckled and fat-hipped. They wore white shorts today, candy striped jerseys and rubber-go-aheads. Irving, handsome and swarthy, glowered at them, threateningly raised his hand, then grinned and winked.

"All right." Zoe briskly thumbed the pages of her script. "First today let's read through. Then, if there's time, we'll block out the first scene."

one