A Shot in the Shadows

A Little Generosity Goes A Long Way

There's probably a really good reason why Zac's standing outside a theatre at about six ten on a Saturday evening. It's already dark out (the sun's not even visible anymore except for a slightly lighter blue above the western horizon). It's September, so it's already getting chilly. In a bizarre twist of weather, the temperature had plummeted during the day. Zac should be at home watching a sports game or killing people on his gaming console or something.

He wonders again why he's out here.

Then Zac remembers that it's because he's been irrevocably in love with theatre since he was four and his aunt brought him to see Annie and then spent the whole show complaining about the lack of "boy orphans".

Sometimes, Zac thinks, life really sucks.

He shoves his hands a little deeper in his pockets and spots a group of people walking on the other side of the road. "Concert tonight!" he shouts. "A showcase of the fine musical talent we have. Tickets sales all go to charities! The show starts at seven!"

No one in the group glances in his direction.

"Brilliant," Zac mutters under his breath. "Of course."

He looks around the sidewalk and frowns. One of the other kids is supposed to be out here with him... except now he's not.

Zac looks around again and slumps against the wall, regretting it instantly as his back freezes. He checks his watch: the show show starts in forty-five minutes, and only a few of the people who had tickets had shown up so far, although there was still was still plenty of time, so Zac had no clue why he was worrying about-

"Hey."

Zac jumps, somehow managing to scrape the back of his neck on the wall. He lets out a strangled sound, twisting away from the wall. Zac's hand flies to the back of his neck as he looks up to see Riley standing on the sidewalk next to him, looking worried.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "I can get Jen or someone out here with first-aid. Do you need it?"

Zac peels his hand off the back of his neck, wincing as it comes off red.

"Oh, wow," Riley says. "I'm so sorry-"

"It's just a scrape," Zac says, gingerly pressing the wound with his bloodied fingers. It stings a bit, but Zac's felt worse. Sure, it will hurt in the morning, but there's really nothing he can do about it.

"What do you want?" he asks Riley, his voice a bit colder than he wants it to be. He's known Riley since forever, first as one of those distant people on the elementary school playground, and then when he became her guide when she'd joined his theatre program. But honestly, he was cold and tired, and injured now as well, and wasn't willing to be patient with anyone: the Devil himself could have risen from the depths of the Underworld and Zac still would have blown him off.

Riley shrinks back, looking wounded. "Sorry," she says again. "I just came to bring you some hot chocolate. And relive you of your shift." Riley 's expression shifted, and some of her trademark snark seemed to make a comeback. "Of course, if you would rather take Harold's shift too and continue standing out here..."

Zac rolls his eyes and walks towards Riley, reaching for the mug she's holding. "Fine, I'm sorry," he says mockingly.

Riley turns and holds the cup just out of reach. "You're not touching this porcelain with those bloody fingers," she says seriously.

Zac has no choice but to duck into the theater and run to the nearest men's restroom, furiously scrubbing the blood off his fingers. He returns to the lobby and joins the gang of teens sitting at the table by the front doors. They're being forced to sell tickets there because tonight's event is not an official theatre thing: the theatre had decided that they weren't going to get anyone to man the box office, and they didn't trust any of the teenagers to root around in there.