I’m a soldier in his army.
And since I can’t take orders on the field for the time being, I will take orders in the theater, I guess.
I know virtually nothing about theater.
The last time I saw a show, I played the baby Jesus in our church’s Christmas play. I did such a terrible job–and by that I mean I screamed bloody murder and the high schooler playing Mary practically threw me into the manger like a hot potato–that our church hasn’t put on a Christmas play since.
So, I don’t know how he thinks I can help, but I will do what I am told.
I show up at the school theater about ten minutes early.
Inside, it is a frenzy of activity.
They are testing the lights, so the theater keeps changing from blue to green to bright orange and back again.
There are actors running lines in the aisle.
And on stage, there is a giant tree trunk that is being painted by someone in a very bright costume.
And here I am, having no clue where to go.
Thankfully, I am rescued pretty quickly.
“Are you the football player?” a girl asks me as she walks up the aisle in my direction. She shakes her head and says, “What am I saying? Of course, you’re the football player.”
There’s no denying it.
This girl is gorgeous.
She has her strawberry blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail and her lips are naturally deep pink. There is not an ounce of makeup on her and she definitely doesn’t need it. There is paint splattered across her white t-shirt and I don’t even know if she realizes it.
She is effortlessly pretty and there is nothing hotter in my eyes.
I nod. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Blaze.”
She squints at me. I know she wants to comment about my name, but she chooses to brush past it.
“Blaze, okay great. I’m Melissa. And I have a lot of work to do, so I would love help,” she says, desperation in her voice.
“That’s what I’m here for,” I tell her. “Just point me in the right direction.”
Melissa turns away from me and scans the theater.
“Painting. We have alotof painting to do. Will you help me with the backdrop?” she asks.
“Lead the way,” I tell her.
I follow Melissa onto the stage where a large canvas backdrop rests. There are trees sketched onto it as well as stars and a moon.
“This is… ambitious,” I tell her.
Melissa looks at me, and I can tell she is completely freaked out. “I know, right? I wish it were simpler, but this is what the artist gave us. And she’s got the flu,of freaking course, so I have to finish this by next week. Have you painted before?”
“Sure,” I tell her, lying for her sake. “How about I start with the trees?”
“Yes, great idea,” she says. “I’ll start with the night sky.”
She hands me a tub of brown paint and a brush and I am ready to get to work.