The Curtain Call Caper (The Gabby St. Claire Diaries)

by Christy Barritt

  It was replaced by a surge of relief racing through me.

  No one was sick. No one was hurt.

  The show would go on.

  CHAPTER 31

  By the time I got home, it was too late to call Becca. Her parents had a strict rule about no phone calls after 8:30 p.m. I considered telling my dad what happened, but he was asleep on the couch. I was exhausted by the day’s events but when I tried to sleep, I couldn’t. I decided to wait up for my mom, even if it meant being tired for the Big Day.

  “Gabby, why are you up this late on a school night, especially since your play is tomorrow?” she asked as I helped her out of her coat and handed her a cup of tea.

  “Mom, I have something to tell you,” I said. The stricken look on her face made me quickly add, “It’s not bad, really.”

  So I told her everything. Everything except the part about Brandon. She was much more understanding about me not telling her about being kicked out than I thought she'd be, but I could tell she was hurt I hadn’t confided in her sooner. I had a few questions for her too.

  “Why would someone so worried about their girlfriend try to make her sick? It’s creepy.” I wanted to understand. All this time I had idolized their relationship. How had I missed the signs of weirdness?

  “Gabby, I don’t know why. It sounds like the boy has some problems. We never do really know what goes on inside a person’s head.” She rose from sitting on the edge of my bed and tugged my covers up, a sure sign she thought I needed sleep. I nestled into bed for all of two seconds.

  “Mom?” I sat back up. “How do you know . . . about guys and stuff? Like if they are what they appear to be? When it’s the right one? Or if there’s ever going to be one?”

  “Gabby, Gabby, Gabby. One day you’ll have guys lined up wanting to be ‘the one.’ But that’s way down the road from here. Worry about that after you have finished school, college, and have a career. Right now, enjoy being young while you can. Be young while you can.” She smoothed my rebellious, red locks and sighed.

  I nodded slowly.

  “Now go to sleep. You have a show to star in tomorrow.” My mom’s voice, like her smile, switched to light, happy, proud.

  “Mom, I’m just an extra.” I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me in the dim light of a streetlamp illuminating my little room, and laid back down.

  “Yes, but you’re my star and you always will be.” She blew me a kiss and closed my door.

  I shut my eyes but couldn’t sleep. I kept replaying the events of today, especially the part where Mrs. Baker asked me to forgive her and put me back in the play. And the part after that when Brandon, eyes on the floor, handed me a bottled water.

  “This ought to be safe enough. Never been opened.” His green eyes raised just enough to meet mine. “I want to apologize.

  “Apologize?” I’d squeaked.

  Gabby, get control of yourself.

  “Yeah, I acted like a jerk.” Bran stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. “I’m sorry I got so caught up in being in the play and getting accepted by everybody. I completely ignored the two people who reached out to me first. Without you two, I would never have known about Oklahoma. If you guys can forgive me, I’d like to sit with you again during lunch.”

  “Okay.” It was a simple response but what was charging around in my brain was one hot, complex mess.

  Seven hours later, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  CHAPTER 32

  “Deep breath in, deep breath out.” Mrs. Baker was doing her best to calm our jitters, but it wasn’t working.

  I was tense, but I could feel Paulette shuddering like a leaf in a hurricane as she stood next to me. Despite Gail’s constant reminders to wear deodorant but not cologne in close quarters, probably half the cast had splashed something scented on. All the aromas mixing together had to be what made me nauseated.

  I, Gabby St. Claire, do not have stage fright.

  “That’s no way to calm us down,” I wanted to shout, but for once I kept my big trap shut.

  Lana grabbed my hand, squeezing it. It was hard to dislike her since she was the one who had displayed Mitch’s jacket and the incriminating bottle of laxatives. Plus, she’d gone out of her way to include me yesterday and today at rehearsals. Even Gail the Gorilla was super nice when she reissued my costume.

  “Three minutes,” Gail’s hushed tone carried.

  We all whispered back, “Thank you, three.”

  Two minutes.

  One minute.

  Show time!

  The first act was a bit rough but by the fourth number, “I Cain’t Say No,” we’d hit our stride. The rest of the Act I and all of Act II were smooth sailing and, before I knew it, we were taking our company bows. I was exhausted and exhilarated all at once.

  As friends and family members came backstage to congratulate cast and crew, Bran grabbed my hands and pulled me to a smiling couple.

  “Gabby, I want you to meet my parents.”

  Bran’s mom shook my hand first. She was tall and willowy like Brandon but had dark hair and eyes.

  “Brandon has told us so much about you,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for making his first day at school such a smashing success.”

  “Glad to be of assistance.” I practically glowed at her sincerity.

  Bran’s dad had green eyes, blond hair, close cropped, and wore a tie with a U. S. Navy tie clip.

  “Where are your parents?” Bran scanned the mass of humanity that pressed around us.

  “I dunno,” I said quickly.

  I hadn’t even considered that angle. If they came backstage would I have to introduce them to people? Would my dad be sober?

  Just then an unfamiliar man and his female companion squeezed through the knots of people. He held out his hand to Bran.

  “Geoffrey Knight. From the Governor’s School for the Arts. I thoroughly enjoyed watching you.” He handed Bran a business card. “I hope you’ll consider auditioning for us next year.”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Brandon smiled brightly.

  “He’s got another year before he’s eligible,” Bran’s dad inserted.

  I noticed he had the same leather and sandalwood scent as Brandon did.

  “I know,” said Mr. Knight. “I made inquiries. But it’s not too soon to be thinking about it. Plus, some of the serious performers do summer school after seventh grade and apply for early admission.” He waved and they turned to leave but not before I heard his companion say, “See, it worked out. Tonight wasn’t a total wash after all, even if that girl they wanted you to observe was dreadful.”

  So that was the big “Hollywood agent” the Diva raved about. And he thought she was dreadful. I chuckled out loud, the sound lost in the din.

  Brandon was introducing his parents to some of his high school friends, and I suddenly felt alone in the crowd. All around me, fellow actors chatted to their adoring friends and families, received flowers, posed for photos. I felt a pang of loneliness and headed back to the dressing room to change.

  “Gabby! Gabby St. Claire!”

  I turned, looking for the owner of the familiar but unidentifiable voice. It took me a moment to recognize Mr. Harold without his custodial uniform.

  “Nice job!” said the woman on his arm. She too had gray hair and a wide, welcoming smile, the kindhearted grandmother type.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “These are for you.” She held out a small bouquet of three yellow daisies. “I enjoyed the preview yesterday so much that we came together tonight. That was thoughtful of you to give him that ticket.”

  “This is my wife, Mildred,” Mr. Harold inserted. “Great show. You did well, Gabby.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Their words and the trio of flowers drove the sad feelings away and I was once again a part of the flurry of activity.

  I bet she bakes fresh chocolate chip cookies for her grandkids and tells bedtime stories.

  “Keep up the good work, Gabby
,” Mr. Harold said.

  The couple blended into the crowd, and I went to change, feeling grateful and special and included. I was halfway to the dressing room when Paulette, carrying an armload of roses, caught my arm.

  “Daddy, everyone, this is Gabby, one of my real friends.”

  While the others mechanically shook my hand and congratulated me, her father looked at me hard, steel and granite in his gaze, before his eyes softened, and he clasped my hand.

  “That’s good. You keep an eye out for each other,” he said.

  My father chose that exact moment to find me and clap Mr. Zollin on the back like they were old war buddies or something. In his semi-inebriated state, he’d missed the unsmiling look of disdain from Mr. Zollin and pretty much begged for a job.

  I wanted a trap door like the one they had on stage to open up and swallow me. It didn’t happen. My mom had to tug dad away, trying to smooth things over as she did so. Before Mr. Zollin steered her away, Paulette had leaned over and whispered. “I’m not my dad. You aren’t yours.”

  I hope those are prophetic words.

  EPILOGUE

  Life is funny sometimes. My out of work, bottle-loving father considered me a failure as an older sister. The richest man in the city, maybe the state, considered me bodyguard material for his Princess. Go figure.

  Plus, life had changed.

  When the local media crowned the whole Oklahoma intergenerational theater experiment as a huge success, Principal Black couldn’t volunteer Oceanside Middle School as the location of Mrs. Baker’s summer drama program fast enough. The Zollins were funding it.

  And I, Gabby St. Claire, am sure to be its star.

  Bran the Man and Paulette joined the ranks of my BFFL. Becca consoled herself over the temporary loss of Brandon as a potential BF by rationalizing that, in a worst case scenario, Bran and Lana could last, at most, three years, then the competition would be off to college and Bran a free man. A new guy named Pete also joined our circle. He was Lana’s brother.

  “According to several magazines, being friends first is the best way to move in when a girlfriend slot opens,” Becca had confided.

  I didn’t bother to ask how reputable the advice columnists were. If it made her happy and our lunches something to look forward to, it was cool.

  Paulette didn’t contribute much conversation wise, but I felt a responsibility toward her, kind of like she was the younger brother I’d lost. Someone needed to watch out for her, and I would do it, whether out of guilt or because I felt the need to prove I was made of better stuff than her two-faced fake friends or to prove I’d grown up to be a responsible, dependable human being. I didn’t know. And I was okay with not knowing for the time being. She’d also never owned up to paying for my costume, but I knew she was the one who’d helped me out.

  Then there was Pete. He didn’t make my heart race the same way Brandon did, but he did seem to get better looking and funnier every day he sat with us.

  I would sort it out later. Right now, I would enjoy lunchtime.

  The Caveman had not come back to school. I would ask Mrs. Baker if she knew what happened to him after school someday. I dropped by a couple of days a week to ask her questions “this friend of mine” had. Questions like “What makes people grow up like their parents or not grow up that way?” or “What’s normal?”

  Our Q & A sessions started the day I brought back both ink stained, gingham skirts and owned up to the fact I had taken the second one without permission. I was scared, but I knew I had to tell her. Mrs. Baker said she was glad I had been honest with her. She also said it demonstrated courage.

  Then she really surprised me. She told me the theater department planned to throw them away so I should keep both skirts as a reminder about moral courage, doing the right thing even if it scares you.

  So I did. I put them where I’d see them when I got up in the morning and when I went to bed at night. I hung them on the window in my room.

  Yup, mom helped me make curtains out of them, ink stains and all. I know it sounds crazy but . . .

  I, Gabby St. Claire, am an original.

  Questions for Discussion

  1. How can you tell real friends from fakes? Is it actions, words, attitudes or something else?

  2. What are the three most important characteristics in a best friend? Why?

  3. If you were to make curtains out of something unusual as a reminder of a life lesson, what would you choose and of what would it remind you?

  4. Gabby delayed doing then completely forgot about the cell model assignment. Have you ever postponed or forgotten an important assignment? How did you handle it?

  5. If you could choose your BFFL (Best Friends For Lunch), who would you choose and why?

  6. How hard would it be for you to own up to taking something that wasn’t yours? Would you do it?

  7. When Mitch became afraid his relationship with Donabell might change, he took extreme measures. If you suspected a friend might be in a toxic relationship because a friend was becoming possessive, jealous, verbally abusive or tried to make them do what he or she wanted, what could you do to help?

  For more discussion questions and to download a free, complete novel study packet, go to http://www.teacherspayteachers.com/Product/Freebie-Curtain-Call-Caper-novel-study-1143069

  Gabby’s Dictionary of Theater Terms

  Back drop

  (n) a large piece of canvas hung from a pipe and painted to create scenic element. Also called a drop

  (v) to fall on your butt in front of half the school when a spotlight drops

  Boom

  (n) vertical pipe used for temporary lighting or to hold a mike

  (n) the sound made when a spotlight falls

  Catwalk

  (n) an immobile platform above the stage that reaches from one end of the stage to the other, used to gain access to the stage equipment

  (v) how a tardy student tries to enter a room

  Crush

  (v) to use a compression unit on a signal

  (n) a burning desire to be with someone who you find very attractive and extremely special

  Distressed

  (v) the process of aging new props/costumes/sets to make them look old and worn

  (adj) how you feel when everyone blames you and it’s not your fault

  Diva

  (n) one who creates unnecessary drama in order to be the center of attention

  (n) Donabell Bullock

  Electrician

  (n) a theater technician who installs and/or operates the lighting for a production

  (n) a person hired by the Zollins to ensure the Princess gets a part

  Ensemble

  (n) performers and/or tekkies working together as a single unit to carry out a common goal

  (n) a diverse group of kids being forced to work together as a single unit to carry out a common goal

  Flat

  (n) vertical wall of scenery created on canvas stretched and nailed to four by twelves

  (adj) how you feel after the Diva disses you

  Focus

  (v) to direct a lighting instrument toward its specified stage area

  (v) something I should do more often in class

  French scene

  (n) scene that begins and ends with an actor’s entrance or exit

  (n) Madame C

  Gel

  (n) thin, colored, plastic sheets used for lighting effects

  (n) a product that doesn’t tame my frizzy hair

  Glare

  (n) the reflection of light from an item onstage

  (v) what Ms. Lynnet does when I’m tardy

  Head builder

  (n) the person who supervises the building of scenery and set props

  (n) any compliment given to the Diva

  Juice

  (n) slang for electricity

  (n) daily lunch beverage

  Italian

  (n) a line rehearsal where the actors deliver their lines as quickly as
possible, without emotion and meaning

  (n) Rafael Valentini Diaz AKA Raff

  Mask

  (v) to hide stage equipment or an offstage area through the use of curtains or flats

  (n) what many middle schoolers wear on a daily basis

  Off Book

  (n) when an actor has memorized his lines

  (v) when you forget to do your homework

  Principals

  (n) lead actors in a show

  (n) the person whose office you don’t want to get sent to

  Prompt

  (v) to remind an actor of their forgotten line

  (adj) what you should be to avoid detention

  Revolve

  (n) a large, circular stage set that can be turned by hand or by machine

  (v) what the Diva thinks the world does around her

  Read through

  (n) an early rehearsal in which the script is read and discussed from beginning to end

  (v) what you should not wait until the last minute to do when the English teacher assigns a novel

  Scene breakdown

  (n) a list of scenes showing which characters are in which scenes

  (v) what happens when one person tries to move a flat

  Snap out (snap to black)

  (n) an instantaneous blackout

  (v) what I should do in class if I have fallen into a Brance

  Stage Left/Right

  (n) directions as viewed from the perspective of people on stage looking toward the audience

  (n) really confusing directions

  Special

  (n) a lighting instrument used to light a single, isolated person or thing

  (n) Brandon

  Stage manager

  (n) the person who is in charge of the technical, backstage aspects of the production