Exit Stage Left

by Nall, Gail

  “You’ll get the part,” Harrison says, leaning over Amanda.

  “And Harrison will be the Captain, and it’ll be so romantic. Just think of that kiss!” Amanda adds.

  I almost choke on my tongue. Harrison’s face goes bright red. I’ve had my suspicions about Harrison for a while now. That boy is so far in the closet, he’s turning into last year’s Christmas sweater.

  “See?” Amanda says. “It’s not that bad. It could be much worse!”

  Harrison mumbles something, but I’ve already turned back to watch the rest of the auditions. When Harrison’s called, he does fine, but nowhere near the level of Trevor, who follows him.

  I fight it, but I think I sigh a little when Trevor finishes. Amanda gives me a look.

  “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I can’t objectively acknowledge his talent.”

  “Uh-huh,” Amanda says, as if she doesn’t believe me.

  Trevor pushes his hair out of his face as Ms. Sharp passes him a copy of the script. He reads for the lead first. After the last line where he begs Maria to stay, he looks up with pleading in his deep brown eyes.

  I remind myself that he’s been “talking” to Gabby—and probably more—and if we were together, that’s exactly what we’d be fighting about right now. “So . . . he was perfect,” I say in the most measured tone possible.

  “I don’t know,” Amanda says. “I think Harrison did just as well. And Trevor’s so full of himself.” She glances at me. “Sorry, Case, but you know that’s true.”

  There’s a fine line between self-centeredness and confidence—and I’m never sure exactly where that line is. “Maybe it is, but he’s still the best singer in this school. Harrison is really good, but he doesn’t scream Captain von Trapp.”

  “Hey!” Harrison complains. “Your friend Harrison. I’m sitting right here. You know, the guy who let you copy his chem homework all last year? The one you spilled Mountain Dew on at the zoo in fifth grade and then all the goats kept trying to lick me?”

  “Sorry, Harrison,” I say.

  “Trevor’s hot” is all Kelly has to say. “Am I allowed to say that?” she asks me.

  I shrug.

  Harrison looks like he’s been hit in the face. “And I’m not?”

  “Well . . .” Kelly says.

  Harrison slumps back into his seat. “I need to find some new friends. Maybe I should go sit with the Grimaldi twins. At least Johnny and Steve-o might appreciate me.”

  “We love you, Gunther Engelbert,” I say in my best Grimaldi-twin Jersey accent. “Besides, you’re too short and skinny to hang out with Johnny and Steve-o.” Also, after having been forced to spend time with them by virtue of being with Trevor, I’m pretty sure Steve-o’s after-school “job” is both illegal and very lucrative. And that’s not exactly Harrison’s scene. I don’t even know why they’re in the theater right now—it’s not like they’d be caught dead trying out for the musical. But there they are, stretched out like two oily shadows next to Trevor and Gabby.

  “I really need some new friends,” Harrison grumbles.

  “Is that the last person?” Amanda asks as a tiny freshman steps down from the stage.

  A tall guy with messy-spiky dark hair and a Pink Floyd T-shirt strides past us down the aisle and approaches Ms. Sharp.

  “Maybe not,” I say. “Who is that? He looks familiar.”

  The guy says something to Ms. Sharp, she says something back, and he bounds up the stairs to the stage.

  “Oh, wait! That’s Silent Hollywood Guy!” Kelly says, sitting up straighter.

  “Who?” Amanda asks.

  “Hey—I ran into him in the hall yesterday.” I remember him now. The one who wouldn’t say anything to me. “He is silent.”

  “Yeah, everyone says he’s from California, but I’ve never heard him talk,” Kelly says. “I think he moved here over the summer.”

  Who in their right mind would move from California to Podunk Holland, Indiana?

  “What’s his real name?” Amanda asks.

  “No idea,” Kelly says.

  Silent Hollywood Guy sings “One Song Glory” from Rent. I guess he’s not so silent after all. Ms. Sharp has him read for several parts, which he does with a loud, ringing voice.

  “I’m in love with him now,” Kelly says. “He’s so much cuter when he talks. Do you think he has a girlfriend? Do you think he’s in a band? He looks like he should be in a band. Do you think he’ll give Trevor a run for the lead?”

  Harrison shakes his head and mutters something about the Grimaldi twins. Silent Hollywood Guy finishes and steps down from the stage. His beat-up tennis shoes make a muffled swishing sound as he shuffles down the carpeted aisle to his seat.

  “Thank you for coming,” Hannah starts, but as usual, she’s interrupted by Ms. Sharp. Why we even have a student director is beyond me.

  “That’s it, people!” Ms. Sharp says. “Check the bulletin board outside the theater tomorrow. Casting should be posted by noon. Remember! There are no small parts, only small players.”

  I roll my eyes. Easy for her to say. Her entire life isn’t riding on this one play. No way will one of Ms. Sharp’s former Broadway director friends recommend someone who lands a pea-sized role. Or worse—chorus.

  We stand up to leave. Silent Hollywood Guy brushes past without seeing any of us. Trevor follows, the Grimaldis trailing after him. I try to look like I’m super busy with . . . picking lint off my top.

  “Hey, Case,” he says in that melting-chocolate voice. “Nice job.”

  I pry off a really stuck ball of fuzz and finally look up at him. “Thanks. You too. I’m sure you’ll get the lead.” It’s stating the obvious, and I say it in as bland a voice as I can muster.

  Trevor’s giving me a look like I just handed him the part along with a million dollars and the key to Broadway and a vocal role in the next huge Disney animated film. “I hope so.”

  False modesty. He knows he’s getting the lead. I’d usually feel the same way about myself, but it takes everything I have to force a smile right now.

  “See you in rehearsals,” Trevor says, grazing his fingers across my arm as he follows the Grimaldis out of the theater. My traitor skin breaks out in goose bumps.

  “I hope I see Silent Hollywood Guy in rehearsals,” Kelly says. “And I hope he’s un-silent.”

  “Ooh, me too,” Amanda agrees.

  As we walk up the aisle, Gabby flies past us, somehow managing to knock my purse off my shoulder. I reach down for it, and when I look up again, she’s shoulder to shoulder with Trevor up ahead.

  Not my problem to deal with anymore. And that makes me smile for real.

  Chapter Five

  I’ve spent the entire lunch period pushing mixed veggies back and forth across my plate.

  Just fifteen minutes until Ms. Sharp posts the cast list.

  Harrison is stirring his soup but not eating it. Across from me, our one non-theater friend, Chris, chomps down on a stomach-turning pile of six peanut butter sandwiches and an entire bag of Cheetos. Amanda and Kelly are chatting away, like they aren’t even the tiniest bit concerned about what parts they’ll get.

  I dump my uneaten lunch into the trash and balance my tray on the towering stack of dirty ones. I glance around the cafeteria. Groups of people talk and eat, like it’s any other day of the week.

  That’s it. I can’t hang around the cafeteria any longer. I go back to the table and grab my backpack. Harrison jumps up and follows me.

  Without talking, we walk across the lobby and around the corner to the hallway that runs next to the theater. The bulletin board holds signs advertising yesterday’s auditions and other artsy projects. Apparently the Objets d’Art Club is hosting a Throw-In, whatever the hell that is, and the ballet company is planning a production of Cinderella. I dump my backpack on the floor and sit against the opposite wall. The painted cement feels cool against my back. Harrison slides down next to me. The hallway is deserted except for us. Sounds
echo from the cafeteria, where everyone is happy and unconcerned about whether my future works out as planned.

  Harrison’s stomach growls. We both stare at the bulletin board as if the cast list will magically appear. I’ve done this so many times now—waiting in this hallway, at this very spot, my entire body a mess of nerves and excitement and dread. Freshman year, I parked here with Amanda and Harrison, having no idea if any of us even got into the cast, much less a speaking role. Amanda and I played endless rounds of MASH to distract each other while Harrison drilled holes into the bulletin board with his eyes.

  At one point, I told Amanda that I didn’t know what I’d do if I didn’t get cast, and she looked me right in the eyes and said, “Casey Fitzgerald. If you don’t get into this play, we will go audition for every show within an hour of here until you do get cast.” And when I asked her how we’d get to all these imaginary auditions, she told me that she’d steal her mom’s car and drive me. Which cracked both of us up because 1) Amanda is incapable of stealing anything, 2) the only thing she’d ever driven at that point was her uncle’s John Deere, and 3) Mrs. Reynolds would have needed hospitalization after the conniption fit she’d have thrown when she found out. Turns out, Amanda didn’t have to steal the car, because I got cast as Marian the librarian.

  Of course, getting Marian then (and snagging Tracy Turnblad in Hairspray last year, even though I had to drop out) made this whole waiting thing a lot better.

  At seven minutes until twelve, a girl skips toward us like she’s Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz or something.

  “Hi!” she says with a chirping voice. “Are you waiting for the cast list too?! I hope I get in! I so want to be Maria, but I’ll be happy with anything! I’d even love to be in the chorus! Oh, by the way, my name is Danielle. I’m a freshman. What are your names?!”

  I’ve never seen this girl in my life. She must’ve auditioned early yesterday, while I was mentally rehearsing my song. Harrison stares blankly at her. She blinks a couple of times and smiles at him. Then she looks at me.

  My heart melts a little at her enthusiasm about the whole thing. I was exactly like her two years ago. Although less peppy. A lot less peppy.

  “I’m Casey.” Even though I get where she’s coming from, I kind of hope that will make her stop talking. My stomach feels like it did on the roller coaster at Holiday World that I dragged Amanda onto over the summer—the one we rode after I brought the park down with my rendition of “On My Own” while standing in line. Amanda and I had been talking to these really cute guys from Evansville, and they both gave us their numbers afterward. I think Amanda texted with one of them for a while, but I never did, even though I’d just broken things off with Trevor.

  “Casey! I love that name! Were you in the play last year?! I was in all of the plays in middle school! I have a perfect casting record! That’s why I really want to be in this show! Even if it is just the chorus!” Her head bounces with every syllable. She has curly light brown hair pulled back in a cheerleader-style high ponytail. It bounces, too. Every time she opens her mouth, the light from the ceiling gleams off her silver braces.

  Harrison continues to look through her.

  “Casey?! Were you in the play last year?!” Her ponytail bobs again.

  “No. I got the lead and had to drop out because I got sick.” I really don’t want to think about that right now. In fact, I’m afraid I’m going to get sick again. My stomach doesn’t feel so good. I really, really wish she’d stop talking. I need all my concentration to focus on keeping my nerves in check.

  “Oh! That’s awful! I hate being sick! I’m glad you’re okay this year!”

  “There you are,” Amanda says, as she, Kelly, and Chris walk up. “You guys disappeared so fast.”

  “I couldn’t sit there any longer,” I say.

  “You’ve got this in the bag, Case.” Amanda peers into Harrison’s face. “But he doesn’t look so good.”

  He stares at her the same way he did Danielle.

  Danielle keeps on talking. “Hi! Did you guys try out too?! I did!”

  “Um, yes,” Kelly says warily.

  Danielle the Perk Monster steps toward her like a cat backing a mouse into the corner. Kelly bumps up against the wall, but Danielle keeps talking at her. I’m beginning to think her excited chattiness is covering up her own nerves.

  “It’ll be over soon,” Amanda says, joining Harrison and me on the floor. “Then we’ll know, and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  “You don’t even look worried.” I mess with the zipper on my purse. Open. Close. Open. Close. It’s almost hypnotic.

  “I am. I just don’t show it. Besides, I don’t think I have as much riding on this as you and Harrison.” That’s true. Amanda’s got plans for studying classical piano at NYU. No important-theater-people recommendations needed for that. Just big-deal-pianist recommendations, which she already has. “But I really want to be in the play. It’s always such a blast. And no party beats a cast party, right? Look, you don’t have any reason to be worried. And hey, on the bright side, if you don’t get in, you’ll finally have enough time to take your driving test.”

  I smile. Just a tiny bit. Only because Amanda bugs me pretty much every day to get my license already so she won’t have to drive me everywhere like she’s been doing for months. It’s not my fault that her birthday is six months earlier than mine. And that parallel parking freaks me out. And that I was crazy busy memorizing an entire play this summer. And that I kind of like riding to school with her in the mornings. It sure beats getting a ride with my brother.

  Amanda checks her phone. “Only two minutes left. She should be here soon. Um . . . Harrison?”

  I give the zipper one final tug before I look up at Harrison. He’s sitting with his head between his knees.

  “Dude, are you going to puke?” Chris squats in front of Harrison.

  “Go away.” Harrison’s voice is muffled.

  “Yeah, just don’t puke, okay? I have a weak stomach.”

  Amanda laughs. I manage another faint smile as Gabby wafts into the crowd. She looks more like she’s arrived to accept a crown and scepter than to check a casting list. Trevor follows with the Grimaldis. I swear I can smell Johnny Grimaldi’s hair gel from clear over here, and it’s not helping my stomach. Or maybe it’s the way that Trevor is talking to Gabby. I squeeze my eyes shut. Nothing matters right now except the cast list.

  “Here she comes!” The Perk Monster jumps up and down. A crowd of students follows Ms. Sharp down the hallway. She’s like the Pied Piper of the theater program. Amanda and I stand, and then reach down to pull Harrison up. He gets to his feet, swaying slightly.

  Ms. Sharp fights her way through the crowd. “Excuse me. Ex-cuse me!” Brushing students aside with her elbows, she reaches the bulletin board. “First rehearsal, which is a read-through only, is tomorrow after school.” With that, she turns around, tacks the cast list to the board right smack over the Throw-In notice, and pushes her way out. Everyone swarms the bulletin board.

  Gabby’s right in the front. She checks the list, and when she turns around, she’s not smiling. My heart does a leap. That’s good.

  “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. I will never ever in my entire life ask for anything else.” I say something that resembles a prayer under my breath as we move toward the board. I spot Trevor’s head near the front of the crowd. He reaches the bulletin board, reads it, and breaks into a smile. Johnny Grimaldi slaps him on the back.

  “Oh no,” Harrison mumbles.

  We continue to push our way forward. I grab Amanda’s hand as we get closer. I squint, but I still can’t see the names. Finally, after what seems like hours, we get to the board. Amanda puts her finger up to the list.

  “Oh wow,” she says.

  I look over her shoulder and read:

  Holland Performing and Visual Arts High School’s Production of

  The Sound of Music

  CAST

  Maria: Amanda Reynolds


  Wait, what?

  Chapter Six

  This is not happening. I blink hard and look at the list again. My name is not next to “Maria.” Amanda is Maria. Then where in the world am I? My eyes fly down the list:

  Captain von Trapp: Trevor Blakeman

  Baroness Schraeder: Gabby Butler

  Max: Oliver West

  Liesl: Kelly Hutchinson

  Rolf: Harrison Kaelin

  Mother Abbess: Casey Fitzgerald

  No. Wait a minute. No. Mother Abbess? Mother freaking Abbess? I’m cast as a nun. Is Ms. Sharp insane? I’m not Mother Abbess, I’m Maria!

  “Case, I didn’t expect . . .” Amanda says. She doesn’t finish the thought. I feel her looking at me, but I can’t drag my eyes away from the cast list.

  Amanda. My best friend. She of the preppy clothes and long blond hair and light soprano voice and insane piano talent. Not me. Amanda.

  I look back at the cast list. I can’t believe it. I completely blew my chance at getting into NYCPA. Sure, there’s a musical next year, but that’s way too late if I want to be considered for a full scholarship. Which I need, because the only thing my parents can afford is community college—which probably doesn’t even have a theater program. And NYCPA is the only theater school that, if I wowed them at an audition, would offer me a full ride even with my less-than-stellar grades. What was Ms. Sharp thinking? I mean, Amanda’s a really good actor, and she had a perfect audition, but there’s no way she can carry an entire show in the lead role. Not like I can.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t think that way about my best friend. I shouldn’t. But this role was everything to me. How can I possibly be happy for her when everything I’ve worked so hard for is just . . . gone?

  Forget New York. Forget NYCPA. Forget Broadway. I’ll have to give up my dream of acting and become . . . what?

  I have no idea.

  “Hey!” I say as someone pushes me aside.

  The rude person is Silent Hollywood Guy. He mumbles something and runs his finger down the cast list. I peek over the shoulder of his ratty Black Sabbath T-shirt. His finger is resting just below the name Oliver West.