Page 8 of Intermission

Hmm. Maybe I’m not the only one feeling like the poster child for “awkward” right now.

“You sounded great,” I offer. “Your vocal was spot-on.”

“Thanks.”

“So...” I’ve embarrassed him. I should change the subject. What were we talking about? Oh! Right. “We’ve established that you likeIn the Heights, but you haven’t told me your favorite.”

“There are so many elements that make up a good musical.” Noah absently rests his hand on Janey’s back. She pants happily. It sure hasn’t taken her long to warm up to him. “Wickedis funny. And it has some really poignant moments, too. A good message. The special effects are cool.”

“Not to mention the music. That last bit of ‘Defying Gravity’? Iconic.”

“Yeah,” Noah agrees. “I love that show. AndHamilton. I mean... wow. Everything about it is just so revo—”

It takes me a second, but . . .

“Oh, no.” I laugh. “You werenotgoing to call it ‘revolutionary,’ were you?”

“Guilty.” He ducks his head. “But it wasn’t on purpose. I wasn’t trying to resurrect an old pun. It’s just... well, it’s true.”

“Yeah,” I concur. “It is. Have you seen it? Live?”

“Ha! I wish.”

Longing escapes on my breath. “Same.”

“It’s definitely a bucket list item. But since I haven’t seen the live production, it wouldn’t be fair to try and rank it yet.”

“True. I love the story and music fromThe Pirate Queen, but I’ve never seen it. And hardly anyone’s ever heard of it. At least around here.”

“I know that one!” He’s nodding. “Short run. Lots of criticism. Some of it valid, I suppose. To be honest, though, I might not have made the connections, the comparisons to the composers’ otherworks, if they hadn’t been pointed out by critics in reviews. But what a great story, right? And I love how the musical style shifts between Irish and English. Very cool use of the harpsichord.”

“Right?” Finally! I’m actually speaking to someone whogets it.

He’s nodding, not in a head-bobbing way but like he’s considering the show, thoughtfully. “I wish I could’ve seen that one, as more than just random clips online.” Noah reaches into his coat pocket and then offers something to me. “Gum?”

“Sure.” I unwrap the stick and inhale the scent of cinnamon. “Big Red?”

“Yep.” In the moonlight, Noah’s bright smile looks ready for a toothpaste commercial. “The only gum worth chewing.”

He continues, “I like all kinds of theatre. Plays, one man—or woman—shows, experimental theatre, all of it. But musicals? That’s where my heart lives. I was raised on them. My mom’s a fan of classics likeFiddler on the RoofandMy Fair Lady. My dad, on the other hand, loves the nostalgia stuff likeRock of AgesandHairspray. Butmyfavorite?” Gloved hands against his knees, he executes a muted drumroll. “Les Mis. Hands down. It has everything.”

I nod. It’s one of my favorites. “It’s a beautiful story. I have that DVD, too.”

“The movie is okay,” he agrees. “But there’s something about the energy and emotion of a live stage production that can’t be duplicated.”

“I haven’t seen it live, but I know what you mean. I have the original London cast recording, and even that is, I don’t know...bigger, somehow, than it felt in the movie theatre.”

“The touring company is coming to Des Moines in a few months,” he offers. “You should go. You’d love it.”

I’ve already asked—no, begged—Mom to take me, to no avail. Big surprise. “Are you going?”

“Not this time.Les Mistickets—not to mention the gas money to get there—don’t fit into my budget right now. I’m trying to save enough money to move to London.”

“London? As in England?”

“The very same.” Noah’s next sigh is heavier. “I guess I should say that I’mhopingto move to London.”

“What’s in London?”