opening night

i am now a high school theatre teacher. our last fall show opened tonight, a serio-comedy by beth henley. the worst part is the last twenty minutes before the show starts. all sorts of doubts come pouring in, and the audience comes trickling in, and someone says "we forgot the egg!" and someone else says "it was advertised as 7:30, not 7!"
i sit in the balcony and watch what we've been working on for the past 5 weeks. not a long enough rehearsal period for me personally. but the kids are stupendous. one has a beautiful beehive that we weren't sure would work -- but it does. another has a tattoo of a ship sharpied on his chest. still another slays the audience without a single word, just a gesture, a grimace, a certain way of peering into a coffin, makes the crowd roar with laughter.
it went so well, and it's just going to get better.
afterwards, amidst the joyful hubbub and greetings and congratulations, one of the actresses is steeped in sullen tearfulness. i ask her what's wrong, "what happened?" and she says, "nothing," putting on her sneakers. i see her again waiting for her dad out in front of school. i ask again and she tearfully replies, "nothing. nothing."