“Is it loud?” Chuck asked hastily.
“Very,” Michael assured him. “At least I hope so—I followed instructions to the letter.”
“What instructions?” Chuck almost yelped. “Didn’t you just make an ordinary firecracker?”
“Good heavens no! You can’t trust those things. This is very special and safe!”
“Well, put it in an ashcan out on the stairs and set it off there. Be sure you’re careful!” Chuck called after him.
“Don’t worry, I will be.”
The play went unbelievably well. None of the props were missing, everyone came in on cue, the action zipped along, the audience was in stitches at the comedy. The end of Act Two approached and Peggy was onstage with Randy, Chris, Mr. Miller, the apprentices, and June Tilson. They had paced the show furiously, warming up to the big scene. Mr. Miller gave the cue for the explosion. A moment of silence—and then they heard it.
Wham!
It sounded as if the roof of the auditorium had been blown off. Huge, billowing clouds of smoke poured on stage, almost obscuring the actors as they finished the scene amid coughs and tears, with a hysterical audience laughing as if their sides would split as the curtain closed.
The applause was deafening, but the actors hardly heard as they rushed backstage to see what had happened. There stood Michael Miller, black with smoke and ashes, peering at them helplessly from glasses that were absolutely opaque with grime.