Page 70 of Penalty Shot

“I get to hang out with you. That’s all I had in mind,” I answer honestly.

“Hey, Elise,” Marisol, the lead actress, says from the end of the table, “it hurts just looking at your wrist. What do you say we call it a night?”

Amber, who I recognize as Elise’s teaching colleague from Columbus, touches my shoulder.

“You two head home. We’ll wrap up.”

“But—” Elise begins to protest.

“You’re no use to us if your wrist gets worse,” Amber interrupts with a stern glare. Sounds of agreement rise from all corners of our impromptu eating area.

They’re practically cheering for her to go home, and I am here for it.

“Macbethcan wait till tomorrow,” I state, and everything stops.

Everyone. Stops.

No one talks.

No one breathes.

I can hear the radio of a car in the distance, that’s how quiet the group got.

“You can’t say that.” Elise is wide-eyed and more stressed than when she was in the medical examination room.

“Say what? Mac—”

“Stop!” At least half of the cast and crew scream. The rest groans.

“The Scottish play,” Elise says. “When you’re in a theater, you call it the Scottish play.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s cursed,” Kaden says.

“We only say that, um, thatnameduring an actual performance. Otherwise, bad things happen,” Marisol says in a panicked voice.

Are these guys pulling my leg?

“He can undo the curse,” Kaden offers. “If he’s willing and able.”

“There’s no choice. He must try,” Amber pleads, eyes darting between me and Elise.

Elise nods solemnly before addressing me.

“Tradition dictates that you need to spin around three times—”

“And curse in Shakespearean speech!” someone adds.

“And jump! He has to jump!” Another voice calls from behind me.

“While I’m turning?” I ask, trying to keep up, because if someone else gets hurt because of me, I’m crawling under a rock.

If doing cartwheels will break this curse, that’s what I’ll do.

“Yes. Definitely while you’re turning,” Amber nods.

“And seek permission to re-enter the theater,” Elise adds.