Toward the end of the play (Caitlin, and open to Sasha and other reactions)
Sasha had enjoyed being a princess. It was clear from his brief speaking parts that he wasn't an actor at heart, and although he did his best with the singing, his voice wasn't quite high enough to do the role justice. But he'd tried. Since he'd wanted to play Rapunzel as a boy some aspects of the musical had to be reworked (which Ms Edouard had helped with), but it had still been a good experience. Pretending to be someone else was fun, especially when that someone else was a princess.
Maybe he would do this again.
Perhaps next time he would go for a bigger part and work a little harder on his acting skills. Not everyone in the play was a brilliant performer, so that gave him hope for the next school production. And of course he'd pick a character who didn't die before the end. Maybe it would've helped to watch the play first, or at least the movie version of it...
His last scene as part of the story played out as it had in their multiple rehearsals, up until he pulled away from his prince. There was a slight pause before he turned to exit stage left, and that was when Caitlin exacted her revenge. He gasped, a sharp intake of breath as something cold and wet hit him, coating him from head to toe. The bucket clonked against the floor to the right of him as he used the sleeve of his frock coat - once pink, now a greenish black - to wipe his eyes.
For a few seconds everything seemed to slow down and Sasha down at his costume, which was now ruined. His frock coat was a luscious light pink piece inspired by pinterest boards, and whilst the ideas for the rest of his ensemble (minus the hat) had also been sourced there, some of the actual items had been found on eBay. Instead of a wig he'd used long, clip in extensions which he'd braided together with his own sunshine yellow hair for the second act, not that it really mattered now. The hair clung to his back, wet and heavy; it felt disgusting. It was disgusting. Everything, including his skin, felt sticky and oily and there was a smell, a sickly, greasy smell like...butter? Fat? The half demon couldn't place it, nor did he really want to.
And then time caught up with him again and he looked out into the sea of faces; the whole school had just seen that happen. Sasha couldn't tell if they were really laughing or if it was all in his head, but the urge to leave the stage before he threw up and made the spectacle even worse was impossible to ignore. Turning from the audience he bolted stage left, leaving an oily slick in his wake as he headed backstage. He made eye contact with no one as flew past waiting actors and stage hands, tearing off his coat and trying to pry the extensions out of his hair with oily hands. He didn't care if some of his own hair was pulled out with them, as long as he could get out of here fast.