A girl shrieked, “There’s Joe.”
They all had Journals. A boy on the stage did some steps and sang sotto voce. He paused with one leg back at an eccentric angle. “I see you made the headlines, Joe.”
A very dark, very intense girl said rapturously: “Joe, you were perfect. Absolutely perfect. You ought to be an actor.”
The boy on the stage stopped his dance. “You’d give all the stars something to worry about, Joe.” He sounded envious.
Joe wondered what they’d say if he told them, casually, that he intended to be an actor. Soon he’d have to tell his father and his mother. All at once his throat was dry.
Mr. Sears, teacher of English and faculty dramatic coach, checked his costume. Mr. Sears was engulfed in costumes.
“Who hasn’t turned in a plumed hat—a red hat? Who—Will you please keep quiet?”
The very dark, very intense girl rushed across the auditorium and rushed back with a red plumed hat.
“Joe!” she cried. “You’re not going?”
“Something to do,” said Joe.