Dramatically Ever After

by Isabel Bandeira

  “Mom!” I yelled in the direction of the open door.

  “Mom’s on the phone with Uncle Mike.” Chloe said, bouncing off the bed and wandering over to my Mad-Hatter desk chair, the back curved to look like it was about to fall over. My uncle was a carpenter and he, Mom, and Dad had spent months making me a room full of awesome Alice-in-Wonderland-like furniture. My light-blue bookshelf curved in and out, a little cabinet peeking out of its side. Meanwhile, the green dresser tilted on a crazy curve that countered my mirror frame’s tilt. I loved this room, down to the glittery yellow walls that were a perfect background for some of my classic movie posters. “She said to come bother you and Wil.” Her expression turned serious, in perfect imitation of Mom. I wasn’t the only actress in the family.

  I snorted. Like we would be doing anything that needed a first-grade chaperone. My baby sister’s perpetually sticky fingers wandered too close to the yellow fabric upholstery on my desk chair and I rushed over and swung her onto my vinyl beanbag chair. “Oh, no you don’t. The last time you touched my chair, I was pulling pieces of lollipop off of it for days.”

  “I don’t have candy today.” She wiggled her fingers to show her empty hands. “Anyway, you still didn’t answer. I want to go to Boston with you.”

  “Sorry, kid-lin, but you can’t. It’s a school thing. Not even Phoebe is going.” At her pouty look, I flicked her nose. “Besides, it’s going to be boring. We’re going to spend every day in meetings. Like school.”

  Her little eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Every day? No way.”

  “Yes way. I told you, it’s a school thing. It’s going to be like when Mom and Dad made you go to my Shakespeare play. You know, like ‘There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you love, remember. And—’” I put on my best Ophelia-gone-crazy voice and mimed handing her a flower.

  “Stop.” Chloe made a face. “Ugh, that was so dreary.”

  “Who taught you that one? Phoebe or Alec?”

  She crossed her arms and automatically fell deeper into the beanbag. “I have my own smart friends, thank you very much.”

  “Then, why aren’t you bugging them, instead of me?”

  “Because I have you right here. And you have nail polish.” She waved those sticky fingers at the little cabinet door perched on my bookshelf where I kept everything I didn’t want her to touch.

  “Boston is going to be awesome. I might actually get some privacy,” I said, sighing as I got up and opened the cabinet. “What color?”

  Chloe swung herself onto my bookshelf to get a better view of the shelves. “Green.”

  I added a mental note to ask Dad to put a lock on my cabinet before I left.

  From: Em (emkatsaros@dmail.com)

  To: Wilhelm (wmeyer@dmail.de)

  Re: Hi!

  Hi sweetie!

  I miss you so much. I hope everything’s okay. Since you didn’t answer Tuesday’s email and your mom interrupted our call, I’m going to dump all my updates in here. How is it going? Did you present your class project yet?

  Well, remember the A Doll’s House auditions? I got Nora, of course. I know you don’t know a lot about acting, but this role is huge. It makes me wonder a little if Mr. Landry chose it because he knew how great it would look on my applications. If I can pull it off, that is, because it’s a really hard part, you know? And I have a guess about what we’re doing for the spring musical, but I don’t want to jinx it, so I’ll tell you when Mr. Landry confirms it. Cross your fingers for me!

  And I definitely didn’t get to tell you that I actually won state in that speech competition! They haven’t told me the details yet, but I get to go to Boston to compete in nationals. I don’t know when yet. I really hope it’s early December so I can see all the holiday lights and decorations. They definitely won’t put it over any holidays, so it luckily won’t mess with any plans I might want to make.

  Speaking of holidays and plans, remember when we went into Philly last year and skated at the Dilworth Park rink and it started snowing? And then you kissed me? It was so perfect, until the guard kicked us off the ice. I wish I could go see the Christmas markets with you in Dresden, or that you could come here. Mom and Dad said definitely no to me flying out there because of the whole Dad’s job and not stressing the budget thing. I’d love to see Europe. Have you thought about coming here? Everyone misses you, especially me, and it would be so awesome to get us all together again. Maybe we could even road trip up to Boston and I can show you everything I’ll see when I’m up there for the competition. I’ll be your personal tour guide ;)

  Tell me you’re flying back here. I miss you so much.

  XOXOXOXOXOXO,

  -em

  * * *

  From: Wilhelm (wmeyer@dmail.de)

  To: Em (emkatsaros@dmail.com)

  Re: Hi!

  Em,

  It is good to see your email and all is good. I am very busy here, but good.

  The play and competition are very good news. You worked hard and I am happy for you.

  I do not know about Christmas. It is a very busy time. I have been saving for Dresden, the train is very expensive—about €120. It will be good to see my aunt and my friends.

  Say hello to everyone.

  Kindest Regards,

  -Wil

  “I don’t want to die, Llamaman,” I wailed, and curled myself into a pillbug-style little ball on the ground as the super-hero improv exercise I was doing with Dev dissolved into a ridiculous mess. Dev gave off another llama-call and my sides hurt as I silently burst into laughter, shoving my face into my knees so no one else in the theatre could see. Added bonus: my shaking would look like I was trembling in fear.

  “You are safe with Llamaman,” he said in a classic super-hero-y voice. Then, a sound just like my grandfather trying to hock up spit filled the air and Dev’s next words were muffled as if he had something in his mouth. “Llamaman Spit Attack!”

  “Dev, no, no—Cut,” Mr. Landry yelled out and, thankfully, Dev stopped whatever he had planned. Landry mumbled something about janitors and overtime, then said, “That was good, both of you. Em, I would have liked to see a little more reaction from your character during the second attack. I understand that she was supposed to be shy and afraid, but you don’t want to be too static in the background. Even peeking out every now and again or trying to scoot away a little bit more would have given a little more visual interest—do you know what I mean?”

  I nodded.

  “Great.” He clapped his hands together to get every-one’s attention. “Good job today, everyone. We’re starting A Doll’s House rehearsals this Friday. Em, since you’ll be out, I’d like to walk through some of Nora’s key scenes first. It’s a complex role, and I want you to study the text while you’re out to really understand the character. If she isn’t acted right, it’ll make the entire play fall flat, so I’m depending on you to make it work. Matt, you’ll want to do the same for Torvald, but I can help you through some of the basic characterization next week. Everyone else, read up, we’re hitting the ground running with this one. Dev, I’ll need you to stay late on Friday so we can figure out your Krogstad. You’re all—”

  Maya’s giggle rang through the theatre and we all looked her way as she grabbed Kris’ cell phone and typed something into it before handing it back to him and hopping off the stage. The boy really needed to wait for Matt outside of our practices or Matt needed to get another ride.

  Landry didn’t do anything more than raise an eyebrow at the interruption, then said, “—dismissed.”

  I shook my head at Maya’s exit, then turned my squint back on Dev. “Were you actually going to spit?”

  Dev grabbed his backpack from the pile of bags and shrugged it on his shoulders. “Mr. Landry said to stay in character.” He waved at Phoebe, who was leaning against the wall at the back of the theatre. “You okay with getting home? Phoebe and I were going to the library to study but we can drop you off on the way there.”

  “I’
m good, my dad’s picking me up. Besides, you two don’t need me breaking up the romantic atmosphere of moldy-smelling books and calculus.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “I’m glad you do.” I pretended to buff my nails on my sleeve. “Wingwoman-ing for you guys isn’t easy.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention that to Phoebe while we differentiate equations together.” Phoebe waved again and he nodded at her. “Okay, I gotta go.” Dev pat me on the arm before jumping off the stage in a very “Patrick Swayze at the end of Dirty Dancing” way.

  “Show off,” I yelled after him.

  “No jumping off the stage,” Landry yelled at the same time. Dev just threw us a thumbs-up and a grin on his way out.

  I heaved my own overloaded backpack onto my shoulders and headed for the stairs, which Matt and Kris were blocking as Kris flipped through his phone. “…you tell her this time?” Matt asked, eyebrows raised. “This is what, the third time this week? Dude, if you and Maya—”

  “Hell, no. I just said I accidentally deleted her number and I don’t answer unknown calls. If I’d known she came to your rehearsals and didn’t need her to operate the sound board for Spirit Week, I’d wait outside for you just to avoid her.” Over his shoulder, I saw Kris delete Maya’s number from his cell. “I’ll just put up with her until November.”

  “Typical,” I muttered, as I pushed past them with a barely polite “Excuse me.”

  They didn’t stop talking, but I could clearly hear Matt say, “What’s wrong with her?” as I made my way down the aisle to the exit.

  “Drama divas. I have no idea how you tolerate…”

  I pushed through the double doors before I could Kris go on his inevitable “artsy people are useless and overreact to everything” rant. I didn’t need to be sucked in to a fight, and definitely didn’t need any more stress in my life at the moment.

  Boston was going to be bad enough, even without him.

  Vice principals usually didn’t call students out of first period for good news, but it at least got me out of hearing Ms. Singh drone on and on about derivatives. My heartbeat sped up as I hurried down the hall towards the office and clicked through all the possible reasons why MacKenzie wanted to see me. I wasn’t failing any classes that I knew of and I hadn’t cursed off any teachers like the one time Evan lost it in Chem. Maybe one of my parents were in an accident, like the time Mike Lyons was called out of English, or maybe something happened to Chloe… the pounding in my ears matched the fast clack of my shoes on the floor.

  I had to hold back the urge to vomit.

  Instead, I grabbed the office’s door handle and forced myself to keep propelling forward. Without even saying a word, the office aide smiled at me and waved me towards MacKenzie’s open door. Smiling was good, right? This was the nice aide, who I knew wouldn’t smile if anyone was hurt, unlike the crankypants old lady who loved to deliver awful news.

  “Is everything okay?” I blurted out as I skidded into MacKenzie’s office.

  The balding vice principal was talking with a guy in a familiar grey sweater, and, mid-sentence, let out a loud bark of a laugh. The boy shifted in his seat as he joined in and I realized why I recognized the sweater—it was the same one Kris had worn in homeroom that morning. Worry about Chloe or my parents was replaced by a new fear when the boy turned around to grin at me and it was Kris. They must have made a mistake when they announced the winners. Kris and MacKenzie were probably laughing over the absurdity of me even thinking I could possibly be a state winner.

  MacKenzie cleared his throat and gestured towards the other empty chair in front of his desk. “Everything’s fine, Ephemie. Come on in.”

  “Em,” I said in a tiny voice. MacKenzie wasn’t the type to take corrections lightly. I dropped into the chair, gently setting my bookbag on the floor next to my feet. Dev would totally make fun of me for feeling so timid around him.

  “Em,” he repeated, then smiled at me. “I called you in here to—”

  Tell me I need to go back to being Eliza Doolittle and forget about playing the part of an upperclass speechwriter?

  “—congratulate you on winning the speech competition. All of us here at PCHS are so proud of both you and Kris.”

  Kris smirked his superior smirk at me, like he’d been reading my mind. “Thank you, sir,” he said, smooth as James Bond, while I probably looked like I was in the middle of a fish impression, gaping mouth, big eyes, and all.

  MacKenzie didn’t seem to notice my mental flail. “The state committee told me they were impressed by the quality of both your entries. They said they hadn’t heard speeches of this caliber in years, and especially not from the same school.”

  “That’s…great,” I squeaked out. I still hadn’t gotten over the shock of not being told I sucked.

  “I have the lucky privilege of filling you both in on the specifics.” He slipped on his glasses and looked down at the paper in front of him. “The US Youth Change Council will be flying you both from Philadelphia to Boston. You’ll spend a week in a youth summit and, on the last day, will both give live speeches to the judges. In your free time, the summit organizers have set up tours of Boston,” he read aloud, then looked up to add, “I don’t have to remind you that you will be representing not only this school but the entire state of New Jersey. I expect exemplary behavior from both of you.” There was the MacKenzie we knew and loved.

  “Lambertfield couldn’t have better representatives, right, Em?” Kris prodded me with his elbow. “It’s a given, considering we’re from one of the best schools in the state.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes at his obvious suck-upishness and, instead, tried to play his game. It seemed to work with Vice Principals, at least. “Class President and Theatre Club star extraordinaire.” I gave a mini-bow with a flourish of my hand. “We’ll put those other states to shame with our model citizenry.” I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at Kris like a five-year-old.

  “Right. Just don’t get into trouble,” MacKenzie said, then handed us both manila envelopes with our names scrawled across the top in permanent marker. As usual, my last name was misspelled. I looked over at Kris’ and took way too much pleasure in the fact that they spelled his first name with a “C.” “Those packets contain all of your information, including a parent permission slip. Since you’ll be under the supervision of the conference organizers, there’s also a code-of-conduct sheet I expect you both to memorize.” His practiced stern expression smoothed back into a smile. “Oh, and some important information on prizes. By default, as state winners, you’ve both already won one thousand-dollar scholarships.”

  One thousand dollars. That was a drop in the bucket for college tuition, but it would definitely help. And if I won first place at nationals, I’d get thirty thousand dollars, enough to cover freshman and maybe a little bit of sophomore year. Dreams of hanging out on Rutgers’ campus and maybe even being a part of their Shakespeare intensive danced through my head. “I…” I paused, unsure of what to say, and defaulted to, “…thanks.”

  “Eloquent.” Kris winked at me, then stood and reached across the desk to shake the vice principal’s hand. “I can’t wait to show Boston what Pine Central has to offer.”

  I waved weakly at MacKenzie with my non-packet hand. Kris grabbed my elbow and steered me out of the office and into the hall. Once we were out of hearing, I shook free of his grip. “Eloquent? Really?”

  “No, not really. Maybe your sarcasm meter is broken.”

  “We’re supposed to play nice, you know. This isn’t one of your elections.”

  “I am playing nice.” He leaned so close to me, I could see the dark-brown ring around the honey brown of his eyes. “If I wasn’t, I would’ve already found a way to get under your skin and freak you out so much that you wouldn’t even remember what a speech is. It would be so easy, because this is my world, not yours.” I blinked and took a step back, which made his eyes crinkle in a smile. “But, like I said in homeroom, I want us to
corner first and second place. Do you realize how awesome that would be?”

  “It would be more awesome if you stayed three hundred miles away from me instead.”

  Kris snorted and turned to walk down the hall. “Keep dreaming, ‘theatre club star.’”

  I sucked back the urge to throw my bookbag at him and collected myself. There was no way he was going to psych me out.

  I kicked the nearest locker and headed back to pre-calc.

  The second time I was called down to the office that day, I was more worried about another extended “make nice” session with Kris than any potential family disasters. But when the aide waved me into MacKenzie’s office, the other chair was empty and the vice principal’s desk phone had been pushed to the center of his desk. He gestured for me to sit and followed it with the cheesiest thumbs up ever. The man was the epitome of the middle-aged balding vice principal trope. “Okay, she just walked in.”

  “Is this Ephemie Katsaros?” The older woman’s resonant and strong voice sounded familiar through the speakerphone, but I couldn’t place it.

  I slipped into the chair, my forehead crinkling as I stared at the phone. “This is Em.”

  “Em, this is Dr. Lladros. I was one of the judges for our state for the Change Council speech competition.”

  My eyes grew wide and I found myself bracing my hands against MacKenzie’s desk as I leaned closer to the phone. I pulled on every acting bone in my body to keep my tone as even as possible. “I know who you are. Thank you so much for picking me.”

  “You earned it. Your delivery was beautiful and you really managed to capture the attention of the entire judging panel in a very memorable way.” She didn’t let me finish my squeak of thanks before saying, “You were at the acting intensive at Mason Gross this summer, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought your name sounded familiar.” I held back an excited squeak at those words. Dr. Lladros remembered my name from the workshop. Of course, there weren’t a lot of Ephemies in the world and especially not people my age, but still. “Anyway, I really wanted to call you to congratulate you on winning at the state level and look forward to seeing how you do at nationals. I can only imagine you’ll get better with the coaching they provide during the competition.”