DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE by Larissa Reinhart Page A

Some were marked
     for the girls and boys facilities. Others were labeled for props and costumes. All
     locked. Which I knew because I’m snoopy.
    Someone should have drawn me a map. Or Laurence should have been more obliging. If
     he was indeed Tara Mayfield’s brother, Tara must have hoarded all the helpful genes
     in that family.
    And why wasn’t Laurence in class? As I pondered the differences between my own and
     a Peerless education, I found the back entrance to the stage.
    Hearing voices, I followed them until I encountered Tinsley holding class. With the
     cape draped around him, he sat cross-legged on a table, in cool teacher mode. Below
     him, the students adopted his cross-legged stance on the floor of the stage, gazing
     up at the Dali Lama of Theater.
    He descended from his table to introduce me with grand, sweeping gestures that put
     Vanna White to shame. “Ms. Tucker will design our set and assist our set technicians
     in creating our underwater alien planet of Verona.”
    I smiled and waved. The students flicked an unimpressed gaze on me, then switched
     to adoration for Tinsley.
    “The back drop’s been delivered. Primed, flameproofed, and ready to paint.” He pointed
     to draped fabric attached to a thick metal rod spanning the back of the stage. The
     drop had been suspended by wire from ceiling rigs, but lowered to my approximate height,
     puddling the extra length of fabric on the floor. “However, I’ve been thinking that
     we should also use periaktoi. I’ve eight prisms constructed from our production of Lysistrata . I feel Shakespeare would approve of our Greek scene device.”
    The students nodded.
    I felt as sharp as a bowl of J ell -O . “Do you paint these periaktoi? I don’t know what they are. Sounds like some kind
     of dinosaur.”
    Two students rolled their eyes and one snickered.
    “But if I can paint them, I’ll figure it out.” I eyeballed the snickerer.
    “Of course . ” Tinsley waved a hand at a group of tall, flat sided pillars. “They are placed together
     to create a backdrop. Each one rotates for three easily interchangeable scenes. You
     just need to paint over them.”
    “I can do that.” I walked over to the prisms and pushed on one. Moving on wheels,
     it turned to reveal two more painted sides. “Painting these will be faster than building
     a set.”
    “Excellent. We will have some side sets, but I also have the stairs and balcony pieces
     from previous plays.”
    I strode to examine the backdrop, moving around a caged lightbulb hanging from an
     upright stand with a heavy, ornate base. “Is this a prop?”
    The students sucked in their breath, and Tinsley calmed them with a gesture.
    “You have much to learn about the stage and we look forward to teaching you, don’t
     we, darlings? That, my dear Miss Tucker, is our ghost light. We use it to light the
     stage when the theater is blackened ,” Tinsley said.
    “Ghost light?”
    “One of our many superstitions. We always leave a light on for our theater ghosts,
     who detest the dark. And it prevents us from tripping backstage. See, fantastical
     and practical, just as theater should be.” Tinsley stroked his beard and rocked back
     on his heels. “Now my puppets, we have visualized our concept of Verona as a beautiful
     water world divided between the antagonism of two houses. Capulets to be represented
     in blues and the Montagues in greens.”
    Eager to have the limelight off my ignorance, I pulled a sketchbook from my messenger
     bag, noted the colors, then moved to sit with the students.
    “Mr. Tinsley, I don’t understand this setting.” A slight girl with straight blonde
     tresses stood and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Two ruling houses at war in an
     underwater planet doesn’t make sense. There would be no family loyalty in a water
     world. The species only instinct would be survival.”
    “Tell that to Aquaman.” I leaned toward a nearby student. “How does she know this