Waiting in the hall, a bunch of the other actors came over to introduce themselves and say how great they thought my voice was and how TJ and me singing together was mega-amazing. Cartier—one name—the choreographer who had tattoos all the way down both of her arms, said, “Listen, not to worry you, but the dances are going to be a lot more challenging than what you may have done in middle school. But I got you. You look great, I look great. You look awkward, I look like a loser, and I am NO loser.” I smiled and nodded as the toes on my two left feet spasmed in my sneakers.
The actress who was playing the queen (aka Juliet’s—my—mom) was a regal black woman with long, auburn braids that went all the way down to the small of her back. She came up to me and said, “Hi. We haven’t been properly introduced, I’m afraid. My name is Rosalind Windemere, but you can call me Roz.”
“Hi. I’m Mango. Nice to meet you.”
Her eye narrowed. “Nice to meet you, too. Even nicer to be working. I don’t mean to pry, but how old are you, child?”
“I’m twelve. Twelve and a half.”
All of a sudden, Zippy was next to Roz. “Looks like she could be ten, or nine even!”
“That’s good,” Roz said. “I didn’t want to be playing the mother to some teenager. I don’t mean to brag, but I don’t look old enough to permanently move into 'mother’ roles yet, know what I mean?”
Zippy cackled. “You don’t have a thing to worry about, Roz. This child hasn’t even started developing. No one would ever suspect she was a teen.”
Roz leaned closer to Zippy. “I started, you know, developing when I was ten. It’s a good thing she’s on the slow train, ’cause if she looked like I did at twelve, I would’ve turned this part down.” Roz and Zippy laughed and walked off.
Slow train? My eyes were stinging, and my cheeks were hot. They were throwing shade at me, right in front of my face, as if I weren’t even there! I felt more self-conscious about looking like a kid than ever. What was I doing here? These were grown-ups. New Yorkers. At least I had one real friend here. I was going to stick close to TJ—like butter on toast.
Acorn called us back into the studio and had us take seats in front of the producer’s table. I could tell we were in for some bad news, because Bob was now even redder than his hair. After a moment, he stood to address us.
“Listen, we all know how magical show business is. I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?” He ran his fingers through his hair and paused to look at Larry, who gave him a small nod. Bob turned back to us. “The best way to say this is just to say it. It’s sad on the one hand, and I guess it’s good on the other. Well . . . here it is: TJ is being replaced. He will no longer be playing Romeo.”
There was a big GASP and everyone turned to look in my direction. Was it just me? I was beyond shocked. I mean, having TJ in the show was the best part of being here. He was my only ally. What would I do without him? I looked around the room and realized he wasn’t there.
“TJ left early,” Bob said. “He’s got some thinking to do and decisions to make and . . . well, he’s a strong kid. We all know how talented he is. I mean, you all heard him sing this morning, right?”
There was a rumble of voices agreeing and someone shouted, “Let’s give it up for TJ!”
The room burst into applause. I was late on the uptake, because I was crumbling on the inside. Less than an hour ago, we had been celebrating how lucky we were, and now I could just imagine how devastated TJ must feel. This was the worst thing that could happen. Suddenly, I didn’t care what Mom had said about sticking it out. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I was going to quit. The production went back on its promise to TJ, so why should I have to honor my promise to them? Yeah! As far as I was concerned, I was out of there.
The ovation for TJ wound down, and Bob continued. “Anyway, I guess you’re all wondering who TJ’s replacement is going to be. Well, we’d actually contacted this actor at the start of casting and it seemed he was unavailable, but he has cleared his schedule and is available now. Also, because he is joining the production, our producers have agreed to add another ten thousand dollars to our publicity budget. So, we should all be grateful that our new Romeo will be none other than Gabriel Faust.”
SHUT UP! Gabriel Faust? THE Gabriel Faust? My BCF since fifth grade and the life-size poster hanging on the inside of my closet door? I would actually get to meet him in person. Work with him. Play Juliet to his Romeo. KISS HIM! OMGZ!!!
Suddenly, I felt like I was falling, even though I was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. Maybe it was because two opposite feelings were crashing into me at the same time. Number one, I was distressed because my friend had been replaced, and number two, I was ecstatic because I was going to get up close and personal with my favorite star in the world . . . after Beyoncé, of course. I lay back on the floor, my eyes filled with tears. Of sorrow? Of joy? I really couldn’t tell. Maybe sorrow in the left eye and joy in the right?
CHAPTER TWELVE
A View from the Brooklyn Bridge
Rehearsal ended early because our new star wouldn’t arrive in New York until tomorrow morning. Also, everyone was shell-shocked by the news. At least, I was. I guessed nobody else really knew TJ. They didn’t know how nice he was, how funny, how weird he could be with the factoids that popped out of his mouth when he was nervous.
Bob came over to talk to me right after Acorn dismissed everyone. “Listen, I know you’re upset about TJ not playing Romeo this time, but we’ve offered him a chance to understudy Gabriel. That way he’d get to spend the summer here in New York and hang out with the company and you.”
I tried my best to smile. “Is he going to do it?”
“I don’t know yet. He said he’d sleep on it and let us know.” Bob ran his hand through his cockatoo crown of red hair. “To be perfectly honest, Larry and I didn’t want to make this change, but . . . Gabriel is a big star. Or at least he was a couple of years ago. He has over eleven million followers on social media, and that’s important to the producers. It gets butts in the seats, and he can promote the show and possibly get us some press and reviews from the important critics.”
I could tell Bob felt really bad about TJ. I did too, but I didn’t want to make Bob feel worse by showing him how sad I was so I decided to do a little acting for the first time that day. “Bob, don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to TJ tonight, and he’ll understand. Besides, next to Beyoncé, Gabriel Faust is my favorite star. Brat House was my favorite show when I was a kid. I mean, I’m still kind of a kid, but when I was really a kid, like seven or eight . . . you know?”
Bob smiled, gratefully. “That was one of the most popular shows on TV back then. He played um . . . what was his name?”
“Romper.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Romper. What was his catch phrase? That thing he used to say on every episode?”
“Brats rule, fools drool!”
“Yeah, that’s right. Brats rule, fools drool. . . I still don’t know what the heck that means.”
“Me neither, but he was awfully cute when he said it. I had the biggest crush on him.”
Bob’s eyebrows levitated to his hairline. “Oh really?”
Did I say that out loud? I felt heat rising to my cheeks. I needed to backtrack. “I HAD a crush. Back when I was a kid. I don’t anymore! I mean, I had a life-size poster of him hanging in my closet and everything. I loved his music too, but now I’m more into alt-rock. His songs were so bubblegum, you know?” I was babbling. I always did this when I was embarrassed, pulling out the stops to pretend I wasn’t embarrassed in the first place. It never worked and I knew it, so I just stopped talking.
Bob laughed. “Okay. . . So, one question: do you still have the life-size poster hanging in your closet?”
“No! I mean, yes, it’s still there. But I don’t look at it or practice kissing with it anymore.” Oh no! Did I say that out loud, too? ARRRRGGGGHHHHH! I was ready to dissolve into a pile of steaming humiliation. Thank goodness
Zippy chose that moment to come up and save the day!
“Hey, kiddo, it’s such a nice day out, and we’re leaving early. What say we walk back to Brooklyn?”
“Huh? Walk?”
“That’s a great idea,” Bob said. “It’ll give you a chance to see more of the city.”
“But isn’t there a river between here and Brooklyn?”
“Yeeeeaaaah.” Zippy stretched the word out like sarcasm-flavored taffy. “We also have these things in New York called bridges. Cars and trains ride over them, and some of them even have separate sections for people to ride bikes or just use their feet.”
Bob put his arm around my shoulder and walked us to the door. “Don’t mind her, she was born salty. It’ll be fun walking across the Brooklyn Bridge!”
“More importantly, I’ll get my ten thousand steps in,” Zippy said, pointing to the tracker she wore around her wrist. “Gotta get in shape for my big number, right, bro?”
Bob rolled his eyes. “Right, Zippy, it’s all about you, sis.”
Our stage manager, Acorn, met us at the door and handed me my script. “Don’t forget this. We’ll do a full cast read tomorrow. I’ll text you your call time. See ya!” I waved and headed to the elevator with Zippy.
Out on the street, Zippy zoomed in, out, and around the surge of people on the sidewalk. Everyone here was moving so fast, and Zippy could definitely be a contender if the Olympics ever gave gold medals for racewalking. It was lucky I had been a runner on my school’s Girls On Track team, because that was the only way I could keep up with her. A part of me didn’t want to keep up, though. I still wasn’t completely over her joking that I was on the “slow train” of my body developing. I wasn’t sure that I could trust her, but since I didn’t know how to get home yet, I figured I shouldn’t let her out of my sight.
As we zipped through lower Manhattan, Zippy told me her life story and how she had left home at seventeen to come to New York and be a star. “I was the real theater buff in the family. Bobzy caught the bug from me. I used to make him act out scenes from movies with me from the time he could talk! Wouldn’t you know it, after all these years of auditions, rejections, odd jobs, and part-time jobs, my little brother is the one who’s written the part that’s gonna make me a star. I mean, seriously, this came along just in time. I’ll be thirty-five in a few weeks, a couple of days after opening night actually. So this is a great birthday present for me, because my time was just about to be up.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, I came here when I was seventeen, and I’ve been chasing my dream for seventeen years. I promised myself that if I didn’t make it by thirty-five, I’d face reality and become a civilian.”
“Civilian?”
“Yeah, you know, a regular person with a regular nine-to-five job. Show business people are different from regular folk. Most regular people have reliable incomes, secure relationships. Show people like us, we’re dreamers. We keep reaching for the stars even if we never get off the ground. Look at that kid today—whatshisname . . . TB?”
“TJ,” I corrected.
“Yeah. He probably got his first dose of heartbreak today, but believe me, it won’t be his last. You’ve got to grow a thick skin if you want to be in this business. Anyway, if this show doesn’t work out for me, I’m turning in my toe shoes.”
“You’re a ballerina?”
“Uh, no, not with these hips. It’s just an expression, kiddo.”
We arrived at the Brooklyn Bridge and joined the stream of people heading across the walkway. When we got to the center, we stopped and looked out at the view. The water shimmered like a million sequins reflecting the sun. The Manhattan skyline seemed to gleam, too. Zippy held her arms open wide as if she were giving the city a big hug. “Even if I do quit show biz and become a civilian, I’ll never leave New York. I fell in love with the city the first time I saw this skyline when I was seventeen. And look at you, you’re only twelve and getting your big break. If you are as good as Bobzy says you are, you’re gonna be on your way to the big time, and then you’ll hold this city in the palm of your hand!”
I shivered at the thought of becoming a star. Then my nerves started to kick in as I started to think about the flip side of this dream. What if I wasn’t up to it? I was an amateur. All the other actors in the show had been at it for years. They were all pros, stuck with a nobody like me playing a leading role. How would I feel if I were a big star like Gabriel Faust doing a play with a rookie like me? I turned away from the view and closed my eyes. My head was beginning to spin. I leaned on the railing.
Zippy put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s the matter, Mango? You sick?”
“Kind of . . . I just got a little worried, because, well . . . Gabriel Faust is famous and I’ve only been in one school play. What if he hates working with me?”
Zippy let out a big laugh and clapped me on the back. “Let me tell you something, kiddo. Gabriel Faust was a big star. He’s not so big anymore. His last two albums flopped, and his comeback TV show only lasted three episodes before it was canceled. He’s doing our show because he needs to reboot his career. I mean, really, he’s only fifteen and he’s a has-been. He should be kissing your feet the way you can sing! Mister Autotune is going to have to bust a gut keeping up with you.”
“You think he uses that?”
“Of course! Every singer who can’t really sing uses it to sound like they can stay on key.”
“But he’s had lots of hit records. . .”
“Records, yes, but I bet he lip synchs in concert. All that acrobatic dancing he does, he could never get away with doing those flips and singing at the same time. Wise up, kiddo. He needs this show to be a hit just as much as we do.”
As we continued making our way across the bridge, I was still wondering if I should rethink my dream of being in show business. It was cruel the way your hopes could be dashed just like that, the way it happened to TJ today. Suddenly, I was feeling the pressure—way more than anything I had felt when I was doing Yo, Romeo! in school. People were counting on this to save their careers, maintain their youthful image, and who knew what else! Could I do it?
I realized I needed TJ to stick around for the summer more than ever. If I was going to have any chance of a future in show business, I also needed this show to be a success, and for that, I needed TJ here by my side. I decided to face2face him as soon as I got back to Aunt Zendaya’s. If he was going to sleep on his decision, I had to make sure I was smack dab in the middle of his dreams.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Human Toenails
Back in Aunt Zendaya’s apartment, I tried making a face2face call to TJ—but no answer. Unavailable. I tried a regular phone call, which went straight to voice mail. I tried texting, but there were no pulsating dots. No response at all! Finally, I tried wooing my friend with one of the things I knew he loved best—an obscure factoid. I quickly googled “weird facts” and found one that was as strange as it was gross. Perfect!
I giggled. That ought to get his attention! I waited. And waited. Suddenly the dots under my text started pulsing. It worked! He’d read my text and was about to answer. Yes! And then . . .
I was disappointed, but I understood. He must’ve been really hurting. I should have known. Anyone who could write songs as well as TJ had to be sensitive. So I sent him a couple of heart emojis and let him be.
Izzy was next on my list. It had been almost a week since the hoof-in-mouth moment I’d had at McDonald’s. But how to approach her? Should I tell her the news about TJ? Would that be gossiping? Maybe I could just tell her Gabriel Faust was going to be in the play and leave the TJ getting replaced part out? But then would she think I was bragging? Izzy had a big-time crush on Gabriel Faust, too. Throwing this info out to her might make her jealous, which would be even worse. So maybe not. There had to be another way. . .
Aunt Zendaya, who was across the room making jewelry, paused to glance at me. “What’s got your eyebrows all scrunc
hed up?”
“I’m trying to figure something out.”
“Well, you’ll never come up with a solution or whatever by giving yourself a brain cramp. Relax. Do something else, and before you know it, a solution will come to you. That’s what works for me.”
I shrugged. Maybe she was right. I decided to face2face Dada. I could always rely on him and his corny jokes to take my mind off whatever was cramping my brain.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Mango! My sweet breadfruit! We were just picking up the phone to call you!”
“Really? We? We who?”
He reached down to pick up Jasper, sitting him on his lap. “Me and me brethren here! Say hi to Mango, my youth!”
“Mago! Mago!” Jasper started waving his arms and reached for the phone.
Seeing him tickled me so much, but at the same time, it made me miss him and miss home. Yes, face2face was a great invention, but it could only do so much when you were far away from the ones you loved. I couldn’t touch Jasper or squeeze him or kiss his soft peach fuzz cheeks. Suddenly, I got a lump in my throat. “What a gwan, Mango gal?” Dada asked. “You making eye water? Why so?”
“Because, I miss you guys.”
“We miss you, too. But we’re happy to see you. Right, Jasper?” Dada bounced Jasper on his knee, making him laugh and clap his hands for more.
Aunt Zendaya looked up from her work. “What’s going on over there?” She came across the room, looked at my phone, and cooed, “Jasper. Hi, baby! Oh, aren’t you the cutest thing I’ve seen all day!” She shook her head as she went back to her workspace. “That boy could charm the rings off Saturn!”
That was it! I had an idea. A big gesture! I could use my brother to get to Izzy. Well, maybe use was not the best word choice. I wasn’t actually going to use Jasper, but I was going to dangle him like a carrot and see if my girl Izzy would bite. I filled Dada in on my plan, and he agreed to help me out.
Summer in the City Page 7
