Giovanna squirmed backwards out of the tight crawl space. Of course if the lights in the catwalk over the stage went out, she was going to be the one who changed them. She was the smallest, lightest, and the only person who had no qualms about putting light bulbs in her mouth. Not to mention that the full-time stage hands would take full advantage of a high school intern, and were doing so.

She brushed at the dust bunnies clinging to her black shirt. All that happened was that they moved around and covered more area. She sighed and went in search of a roll of masking tape to rid herself of the pesky fuzz wads.

She located a half-gone roll in a pile of safety pins and lace fragments and broken tiaras on a table in a corner. She wrapped a piece around her splayed fingers and began slapping at her shirt with it. She turned back to the main stage area where everyone else was busy repainting the floor with matte black paint. Her gaze was still fixed on her shirt.

She looked up just in time to see the boy before she ran into him. He was just standing there, looking at her with a pair of vivid green eyes. She jumped and gasped.

“Oh gah. You scared me,” she said. He kept looking at her, but with a confused expression on his face now. He had multi-colored hair; dark brown at the roots, bleached out to nearly white on the ends.

“Vanna? Where are you? You could have changed those bulbs ten times by now!” yelled Marcus from the wings. Giovanna spun to yell back.

“I’m coming, keep your shirt on. Or take it off, if that’s what floats your boat.” She turned to apologize to the boy for nearly running into him, but he was gone. She squinted into the semi-dark to see where he went. She didn’t see him at all.

“Vanna!”

“Fine! I’m coming!” She stomped off to the stage. “What?” she demanded when she got there.

“We need help. You can check the rest of the lights later. If there are any others out, we need to fix them.”

“Why the need for light now?” asked Giovanna.

“There’s a concert this weekend. A boy band. They’ve played here before.”

“Oh.” She paused pensively. “Was there supposed to be anyone else here this afternoon?” she asked, trying to sound casual. Apparently, it didn’t work, because Marcus looked up sharply.

“Not that I know of. Why?” he asked.

“There was a boy back there.” She pointed off into the wings in the general direction if where she’d seen the boy.

“He must have been with the band. They said they were gonna come scope it out at some point. Now help us here, Lin’s painted himself into a corner.”

Giovanna sighed exasperatedly and went to help Lin out of his corner.

There were things to be done. The band playing that weekend had finally sent an entire entourage to inspect the situation at the theatre; seating capacity, dressing rooms, sound system, the works. They were already sold out and a full house was going to put stress on al the facilities in the building. Giovanna had to call the plumber and the electrician and make sure there would be three custodians there during the concerts, all four shows. The activity had completely driven the occurrence of the odd boy out of her mind.

She was suspended on the stage wires, pinning steamers up when she saw him again. He was standing on the catwalk just over her, watching her swing on the wires. She started when she saw him and nearly dropped her pliers. She regained her composure and continued to pin up streamers.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. Especially when they’re fifty feet up with pliers in their hands,” she said, waving said tool. The boy didn’t say anything, just sunk into the shadows. “Why aren’t you gadding about being a nuisance with the rest of the troop?” she asked around a mouthful of pliers. “Not that having the show is a nuisance. Just a whole bunch of teenage guys with their agents following all in a little blob is beginning to get harrisome.” She stopped talking and pinning for a moment to look back at the boy. He was gone again. Giovanna said something impolite under her breath.

“Let me down, Lilly!” she called down to her spotter. Lilly let her down to the stage with a slight bump and came over to help her out of the harness. “These people are all mental,” she complained.

“But not nearly as mental as us, it seems. They want us to all wear ‘normal stage hand attire’ at the performances. And what is ‘normal stage hand attire’?” asked Lilly.

“Mismatched articles of black clothing and eye black?” said Giovanna.

“Right. Here at least.”

“That’s what we wear anyway.”

“Tell them that.” Lilly jerked a thumb over her should at the gawking mass of people behind her, now eyeing the streamers critically. One of them opened his mouth to say something.

“Come on,” Lilly grabbed Giovanna’s hand and dragged her away before the man could speak. She stowed the harness on a peg just inside the props room.

“These people would have us making cookies if they could get us to hold still long enough,” said Lilly disgustedly.

“I think it’s just the adults,” said Giovanna. “The actual members of the band seem a little bored with all the hustle and bustle.”

“Well, that’s their life. Run here, run there. I guess they would get tired after a while.”

“Hmmm…” agreed Giovanna. With half a mind to take a nap, she took her leave of Lilly and wandered toward the green room, which was, in fact, green. The walls were covered in a collage of swirls and dots that reminded Vanna of being in a tree. Especially with the worn armchairs and sofas and brown carpet.

“Catch!” hollered one of the people lounging on the sofas inside. A wad of crumpled paper flew out of the open door and landed at Giovanna’s feet. She picked it up and smoothed it out. Four boys were standing in a very posed-looking group with tie-dye colors in the background. The one on the far left was the boy she had seen. Hair and eyes made him very distinctive.

“Sorry. We didn’t mean to,” said a male voice. Giovanna looked up into the face of the person who had come to retrieve the make-shift ball. He was the one who was in the middle on the poster. He would make most girls swoon, a fact Giovanna was acutely aware of. “We were bored and, well, we found the poster behind the sofa, must have been left from last time. Sorry.” He blushed to the roots of his tawny hair.

Giovanna smiled and handed the poster back. He crumpled it in his hand, still looking decidedly uncomfortable. Suddenly his face brightened.

“Let me introduce you to the guys,” he said.

“Okay,” said Vanna. She followed him into the green room.

All at once she was very aware of the fact that she was wearing the pants she had used during that project on European food where they had to experience wine by making it. There were purple stains all around the hems and patches over the worn-through places. Being surrounded by upwards of four cute boys had that effect on a person.

“This is James, Carlos, Will, and Evan,” said the boy pointing to each in turn. “And I’m Zach. Guys, this is…” he trailed off, realizing her hadn’t asked for her name.

“Giovanna,” she supplied. “But you can call me Vanna. Everyone else does.” She examined the boys sprawled on the furniture. None of them even remotely resembled the boy she saw earlier, and some of them hadn’t been on the poster-made-ball at all.

“Is this everybody?” she asked Zach. Zach nodded.

“I thought there was another…” she stopped at the murmurings of the boys. “What?”

“That would be Bane,” said James. Giovanna raised an inquisitive eyebrow. None of them looked ready to spill a story.

“Well,” said the boy identified as Evan. “When the band first got going, it was just four of us. Me and Zach and James and Bane.” He swallowed hard. “And we got real good and went in for an audition for an opening show and got picked up. We were all psyched. We got our own concerts soon, and we had our third one right here.” He was looking hard at a spot on the carpet where someone had spilled something red. “Right after we called intermission, Bane was hanging out in the wings, and checking stuff on stage, he was a little bit of a perfectionist. Only he didn’t hear when the hands called for raising front curtain. He was tuning a guitar.” Evan stopped and James took over.

“He was hit by the falling sand bag. It broke his neck. We just pretended that he got food poisoning and cut the show short. Let it go just long enough for the ambulance to get out. He died the next day.”

Giovanna felt her stomach plummet to the orchestra pit. She was sure she had seen this guy, the one on the poster, seen him with her own eyes, nearly run him over. How could she have imagined something like that? Could it just be a coincidence?

“And we wanted to quit the band, it wasn’t the same without Bane, but they said we had too much talent. So we revamped and got a few new people. It’s still not the same, though,” said Evan. All of the boys were silent and broody now.

“That’s awful,” said Giovanna. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” Her insides were still seized up into a cold knot.

“No, it’s okay. It never hurts to remember things like that. Keeps the rest of us on our toes,” said Zach sadly. There was an uncomfortable silence after this pronouncement. Giovanna glanced at her watch.

“Bugger!” she said.

“What’s up?” asked Zach.

“I’m supposed to be doing something. I gotta go, talk to you later?” She did have things to do, but she mostly just wanted away from this odd line of conversation.

“Sure,” said Zach. The rest of the boys nodded.

“Great,” said Vanna, beaming her best hundred-watt false smile at them. She waved and dashed out.

The house was packed. The opening act of a bunch of hysterically giggling girls was doing well, the lights and pumped up bass were creating an atmosphere of rock concert destined to be great. Giovanna’s clothes were black, her face smeared with eye black, and her hair twisted away from her face.

She was in charge of cuing the snow cradle. She was perched carefully on the catwalks and ladders over the stage and waited for the opening act to end so she could send the cascade of sparkling confetti down to mark the main attraction’s entrance.

A sudden chill ran down hr spine and caused her to turn around. Balanced on the rafter behind her was Bane. He was watched the proceedings below with a small smile playing about his lips. Vanna opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get any words out, he pointed down.

Giovanna looked down, giving herself a brief feeling of vertigo. He was right, the girls were cart-wheeling off stage and the music was changing. As the curtain opened, she let the ticker-tape fly to roaring cheers. Giovanna turned around, expecting Bane to be gone, but checking anyway.

He was still sitting there, much to Giovanna’s surprise, with the same half-sad expression on his face. She took a deep breath and switched off her headset microphone. She sidled a little closer, curious. Bane didn’t move.

She stopped right beside him, as close as she could get without putting her weight on the rafter. She directed her eyes to the same spot as his. The top of the lead guitarist’s head.

“That’s where you would be, isn’t it?” she asked softly, though loud enough that she knew he would hear.

“Yes.” His voice was low, emotionless, stating only fact.

“They miss you.”

“No they don’t. They got on without me just like nothing happened, replaced me, moved on,” he said in the same deadpan voice. Giovanna looked at the side of his face. It was not unearthly, though this close up she could see some of the curtains on the other side of the stage through his cheek.

“I talked to them; they were all shaken up to be here again. Why don’t you ask them yourself?” she said. Surely he could just ask them, talk to them, get the info himself.

“No, you’re the first one ever to see me, let alone hear me. And they would panic.”

“You’ve been here, in the theatre the whole time?” asked Giovanna, astounded.

“Yeah. I couldn’t leave, and I didn’t want to bog them down, they didn’t really deserve it, even though they forgot me.”

“Oh,” said Giovanna. She returned her gaze to the musicians below.

“I just watch,” said Bane.

“What?”

“I watch the performances. They make me feel… fuzzy inside.”

“What’s your favorite thing to see?” asked Giovanna. Bane seemed to think for a moment.

“The merchant of Venice,” he said finally. “I like Portia.”

“I like Shakespeare too,” said Giovanna, grinning from ear to ear. Bane gave a smile too. A genuine smile, if not a big one.

By now, Giovanna knew that she had been forgotten by the rest of the stage crew, and rather than get mixed up in the mess below, she decided to make herself comfortable up here. She leaned on the guardrail and let her legs hang over the edge.

The two of them sat through the performance, not saying another word until the last chords of the last song died out and the screaming swelled. Zach took up the microphone.

“Thank you, thank you, we’re very glad to hear your enthusiasm. Before this party really ends, we want to thank someone who has left us. He was great and helped us get off the ground. This is from all of us to Bane,” he said. Everyone in the crown raised their voices louder.

Giovanna shot a sideways look at Bane. His eyes were wide and his face was pale; like he’d seen a ghost.

“Bane?” she asked, reaching out a hand and hovering it just over his elbow. He turned wide and haunted eyes to her.

“They didn’t forget,” he said.

“No, I tried to tell you that,” said Giovanna. Bane shook his head and his face cleared.

“I always wished that they would, knew they couldn’t be that heartless, but there was never any proof…”

“You never looked for any,” said Giovanna. There were tears running down Bane’s face now, they dripped off his chin and evaporated before they touched anything.

“I can go now,” he whispered, joy permeating his form.

“Go where?” asked Giovanna, worried that he might do something stupid.

“Vanna! Get your butt down here! We need hands! Why didn’t you answer when we called you on the headset?” Marcus and Lilly were both standing at the foot of the ladder looking livid. Oh well, not like they could fire her or anything.

She turned to apologize to Bane for skipping out on him like that, but he was nowhere to be seen. She scrambled to make her stiff muscles comply with the urgent and angry summons of her co-workers and pushed Bane to the back of her mind all together for the rest of the evening.

Later, she looked for Bane, but he was nowhere to be found, though previous data in no way suggested that he could be summoned at all. She carried out her sentence of mopping after shows for two weeks, lessened due to her dead batteries plea, without complaint.

She finished her training, took a job at the theatre, and in later years became the kind of eccentric person expected to find at least one of in that sort of occupation. Through all her years working there, Bane never reappeared to her. But she made a point of giving lectures to new recruits on the dangers of silly teenage performers and how they don’t pay attention.

And though no other ghost was ever spotted anywhere near by her or anyone else, sometimes when the local drama club rehearsed Shakespeare, she imagined there was a dark figure standing in the rafters over the stage, just watching.