Act 2

by Andrew Keenan-Bolger

  I felt a chill rush up my back. Like many actors, I had a guilty fascination with Broadway flops. I leaned in closer.

  “Now Gladys Franklin was one of those downtown directors. She encouraged everyone to find their own style, and when it came time to stage numbers, she tried to showcase every dancer’s specialties, even allowing some of them to choreograph entire phrases. A dream job indeed, right?”

  At this point Belinda reached into her purse and pulled out a shiny black tube of lipstick.

  “Week three, she began to assemble the show.” Belinda began dabbing lipstick on her bottom lip between sentences. “Gladys began to realize that because everybody had contributed choreography, the whole thing looked disjointed. When she tried to make cuts, people began freaking out. Why was my number scrapped while hers was four minutes long? Dancers started sabotaging one another’s numbers. The dressing rooms turned into war zones, and by opening night all they had to show for themselves was a big, old, hot mess,” Belinda said, smacking her lips together. “The Globe came and reviewed it, called it out for the disaster it was, and we closed by the end of the week, scrapping the entire Broadway run.”

  “We?” I said, sitting up in my chair. “You were in that cast?”

  “Oh yeah,” Belinda said, raising an eyebrow. “I was one of the leads. I was told I would finally be catapulted out of the chorus and into the spotlight, where I belonged, maybe even land a Tony nomination.”

  “Whoa,” I whispered under my breath, genuinely stunned.

  “So the reason I’m telling you this, Jack,” Belinda said, replacing the cap of her lipstick, “is I’ve seen firsthand what happens when you don’t have a clear leader—someone that everyone respects and looks to for guidance.”

  Belinda leaned forward in her chair, bringing her face close to mine.

  “It becomes catastrophic.”

  I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “Now, I know you may have seen some good cast and creative team collaborations in your time on Broadway, but it’s different here. Not everyone’s a professional like you and me. People need leadership,” she emphasized with her scratchy voice.

  “Which got me thinking,” she said, wagging a finger in my direction. “We’re not so different, you and me. Now, I remember just this summer reading an article on Broadway World about a little switcheroo that went down in a new show . . . The Big Apple, was it?”

  I gulped, feeling my face getting hot.

  “Um, yes,” I murmured.

  “I’m not going to pretend to know what went down there. That’s your business and no one else’s—”

  “My voice changed,” I interrupted. If I’d learned one thing from winter vacation, it was that it’s better to give voice to your fears than to let them fester. “My voice changed, and I couldn’t sing the show, so I got replaced,” I said clearly. “That’s one of the reasons my parents moved here.”

  Belinda gave me a look. It was the same look I’d seen the morning she’d arrived, when I told her my last name.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” She frowned. “That must have been hard for you.”

  I shrugged.

  “Well, we’re in a unique position here,” she said softly. “You and me. We both know what it’s like . . . having our dreams plucked from us.”

  Belinda reached across the desk and gave my arm a little squeeze.

  “Now, you’re auditioning for the role of Nathan Detroit this afternoon, right?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

  “Um, yes,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry.

  “Of course.” Belinda chuckled. “And I know you would be brilliant. I just worry that you’re getting a little”—she squinted slightly, raising her pointer finger in the air—“distracted. Now that all these soccer boys have shown up, there’s a much bigger talent pool, and I bet a lot of them would be great Nathans, too. Especially after what happened with The Big Apple, I’d just hate for you to use all that energy helping your competition instead of focusing on getting the role we both know you deserve.”

  I tried to scrunch the muscles in my face into a smile.

  “So I want you to do me a favor, kiddo,” Belinda said sweetly. “Today at auditions, I want you to knock it out of the park. Focus on your Nathan Detroit material, and let’s prove to everyone what it means to be a Broadway professional. Forget about what those people in New York told you you could or couldn’t do. Just do the best you can.” She winked at me. “And this time, why don’t you try leaving the directing to me?” She raised her voice when she said this, her words slightly echoing.

  I sat in my chair, frozen, my sneakers glued to the linoleum floor. I didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, it felt good to have someone who knew what it was like losing a job on Broadway, but on the other, I couldn’t ignore the surge of guilt rushing through my body. Thinking back to the dance call yesterday, my only intention was to be helpful. I hadn’t realized that reaching out to my classmates could lead to catastrophe.

  “You know, I’m so glad we had this talk, Jack,” she said, standing up and pushing in her desk chair. She walked around to where I was seated and stared down at me. “Why do you look so nervous, hon?” she asked. “I’m not upset or anything. I just wanted to make sure we’re both on the same page. So are we?”

  Even though she hadn’t said anything mean, I felt like I was in trouble. Even though a smile spread across her face, something in her eyes made me feel a little uneasy.

  “Yes.” I nodded quickly, standing up. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Aw,” she said, opening her arms wide, bracing for a hug. “Well, thanks so much for the chitchat.”

  Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me in tight. I prayed she couldn’t feel how fast my heart was beating.

  -LOUISA-

  Jenny and I were practically finished with our lunch when Jack finally appeared in the cafeteria, scanning the room for our table. He spotted me waving and headed over.

  “Sorry, guys,” he said, taking a seat across from us.

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Jenny, “you’re the one who has to wolf down his lunch in eight minutes.”

  “What did Belinda want?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. I wanted so badly for it not to bug me that Belinda asked to talk to Jack and not me, but unfortunately it did. When we first met her, Belinda made it seem like the two of us were her go-to kids. But after Jack’s heroic turn as Dance Wizard the day before, it seemed pretty obvious that she only needed him.

  “Oh, uh . . . she wanted to talk shop,” Jack replied. My stomach twinged. I began to silently lecture myself, explaining that it was only natural that Belinda would want to share her professional experiences with someone who truly understood them. And hadn’t I been the one to tell Belinda about Jack’s professional accomplishments? How could I feel both proud and jealous of my friend at the same time?

  “So, like . . . did you guys swap a bunch of Broadway stories?” I asked as casually as I could.

  “Uh, yeah, kind of,” Jack said vaguely, reaching into his lunch bag for one of his mom’s whole wheat veggie wraps. Of course they did, I thought, imagining them laughing about their theatrical escapades and all the fun people they had in common.

  “Did she thank you for saving the day yesterday?” asked Jenny.

  Rather than answer, Jack took a big bite of his wrap and began chewing vigorously.

  “Oh, right,” said Jenny, peering at the clock above the vending machines. “You better eat fast.” She got up from the table.

  “I’ll see you guys at three thirty. Please come vocally warmed up and prepared to jump right in . . .” Jenny grinned and strutted off, pleased with her Belinda impression. I felt a jolt of nerves race through my arms and legs as I thought about the auditions, wishing I had more time to prepare, more time to come up with something that would really knock Belinda’s
socks off this afternoon. I watched Jack chewing furiously. Even though I knew he was rushed, I needed to ensure that my Adelaide was just right, so I asked, “Would you mind if we read through our sides together one more time? Really quick?”

  Jack wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and stuffed the remainder of his veggie wrap into his lunch bag.

  “Yeah, totally—I was actually gonna ask you the same thing.”

  “Oh,” I said with relief, “awesome!”

  I reached for the sides sticking out of my backpack, and as I sat back up I noticed that Jack was biting the inside of his lip, a telltale sign he was nervous. What does he have to worry about? I thought. He’s the last person who should have audition jitters.

  At three thirty our auditorium looked like “Pandemonium” from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. While there wasn’t a revolt underway like in the Spelling Bee song, there were still kids everywhere—in the aisles, on the stage, crowded around the piano. Also it was really loud. The sounds of kids working on their sides, singing through their thirty-two bars, plus twenty soccer players horsing around because they didn’t know what else to do . . . It was chaotic. Once again I thought of poor Mrs. Wagner, and how she never would have managed to draw this kind of crowd—certainly not with any soccer boys. Belinda had worked some serious magic.

  No sooner had that thought crossed my mind when the magician herself appeared from the wings, holding her clipboard and carrying a bullhorn.

  “Good afternoon, all you Guys and Dolls!” she greeted us through the bullhorn. “I practically shouted myself hoarse yesterday, so I’m using this today—I always love a prop! So listen up: We will begin in just a couple minutes, so please get yourselves organized by taking a seat in the designated character areas—you will find that I have sectioned off the seats into different roles: Sarahs over there, Skys next to the Sarahs, and so on and so forth. You do not need to be a rocket scientist to figure out my system . . .”

  Her last few words fell away as she lowered the bullhorn mid-sentence to adjust her leg warmers. I located the section designated “Adelaide,” then spotted Jack in the “Nathan” section across the aisle and made my way toward him. Jack’s shoulders were hunched as he stared down at his hands, murmuring to himself what I could only guess were lines from the show.

  I sidled up to him, hoping he’d compliment my outfit. Jenny had helped me put together quite an ensemble in preparation for today’s audition. Accessorizing my purple dress (A-line, cotton, boring) in ways I never could have, she added a belt (“to create more of a waist”), and a red silk scarf that she tied in a bow around my neck (“to make you look more old-timey”). The best and final touch was a vintage purse that had belonged to her great-grandmother, dating back to the 1930s. A deep purple clutch purse made with silk and embroidered with shiny black beads, it seemed the perfect item for a gangster’s showgirl/fiancée. When I’d asked Jenny if she wanted to use it for the audition, she’d given me a look.

  “Please,” she’d said with a wry smile. “You don’t have to be polite. I’m just there to dance. You need to pull out all the stops.”

  Jack was concentrating so intensely that he didn’t even notice I was standing next to him.

  “Ahem.” I cleared my throat. Jack looked up.

  “Oh, hey,” he said. “Awesome purse.” While he didn’t say anything else about my outfit, I was pleased that he at least appreciated the coolest part of it.

  “I like that vest,” I offered, taking in the fact that he, too, had made an effort to look the part.

  “Thanks,” he replied softly.

  “Think we’re ready?” I asked. “Anything we should go over?”

  Before he had a chance to respond, Belinda’s bullhorn was put to use once again.

  “All right, everybody!” she trumpeted. “We’re going to start with Skys and Sarahs!”

  For the next forty-five minutes, Jack and I sat anxiously across the aisle from each other, watching our classmates pair off to read the scene where expert gambler Sky Masterson introduces himself to Sister Sarah Brown after having accepted a bet from Nathan that he could convince her to go to Havana, Cuba, with him. Sarah, a pure and straightlaced woman who works at a local church mission, naturally resists his advances at first. The scene culminates in a big smooch—but of course Belinda wasn’t going to make any of the kids do that in the audition. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop Tanner from teasing poor Bridget Livak that he was going to kiss her anyway.

  “I’m a serious actor now,” he said mockingly as they arrived onstage. “I just want everything to be real.” Bridget turned beet red and played the whole scene like she was being pursued by a serial killer. In a weird way, it worked. Bridget was really good.

  Finally, at around four thirty, Belinda announced that we’d be moving on to the Nathans and Adelaides. As Jack and I exchanged nervous glances, I noticed the hair around his ears and at the base of his neck was damp with sweat. It made me think of the last time we were at an audition together, when he arrived sweaty and out of breath at the Into the Woods auditions—but that was because he’d come straight from abandoning the school’s soccer tryouts. Odd that soccer played a part in these auditions, too. “All right, let’s start with Lou Benning and Broadway’s very own Jack Goodrich!” Belinda bellowed through the bullhorn. She looked over at Jack and flashed a grin.

  “Let’s show ’em how it’s done on the Great White Way!” Blushing, Jack stood up and straightened his vest. I tried not to let Belinda’s “Great White Way” comment throw me; if anything, I hoped it would motivate me even more to impress her. As we walked down the aisle toward the stage together Jack whispered, “Break a leg.”

  “You too,” I whispered back.

  Once onstage, I felt my mouth go dry. Even though I’d rehearsed it over and over again, the scene we were about to read now looked unfamiliar in my hands. The height of the stage, the sea of faces staring at us, and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears made me feel unsteady. But then I looked at Jack, whose face, while tense, was still reassuring. Each taking a deep breath, we began our scene.

  “Adelaide!”

  “Oh! What a coincidence!”

  “Adelaide, did Nicely explain to you about tonight? I hope you ain’t sore about it?”

  “Oh please! Let us not have a vulgar scene. After all, we are civilized people—we do not have to conduct ourselves like a slob.”

  Our classmates’ reactions went from suppressed giggling to full-out laughter, within only the first few lines of dialogue. There is nothing more confidence-boosting than laughter when you’re doing comedy—it’s like oxygen to a fire. And both Jack and I were burning up the stage.

  “Nathan, why can’t we elope right now?”

  “Because—well, I got to go to a prayer meeting.”

  “Nathan. This is the biggest lie you ever told me!”

  At the end of my last line, our classmates erupted in applause, making me both slightly embarrassed and elated. Jack and I walked off the stage and back to our seats, where the kids sitting near us high-fived us as we passed.

  “You guys were awesome!”

  “That was so funny!”

  “You’re so good together!”

  I couldn’t have felt better. Before sitting down, I grabbed Jack’s elbow. “Great job,” I said.

  “You too,” he said, collapsing into his seat. He looked exhausted.

  From the front row of the audience came an announcement:

  “Hey, guys, let’s take a quick five, okay? I forgot to give you a break. Go grab some water, run to the bathroom. But seriously—no more than five minutes!”

  Instantly, there was a mass exodus of kids herding through the double doors of the auditorium. I started to follow, thinking a drink of water would actually be pretty nice, when Belinda’s amplified voice stopped me:

&n
bsp; “Louisa Benning, would you meet me by the piano for a moment?”

  My voice sounded mouse-like in response: “Okay.”

  I turned to Jack, eyebrows raised. He gave a tiny shrug and bit the inside of his lip.

  Belinda, now standing, gestured for me to join her as she rested her elbows on the piano, her back to the auditorium. It was clear that she did not want other people to hear whatever she was about to say.

  “So,” she said as I joined her at the piano, “you’ve got quite a handle on this material.” The way she said it made me unsure as to whether she was praising me or not.

  “Well, we practiced a lot,” I said, thinking not only was that the safest response but that I should give Jack equal credit.

  “It showed; it definitely showed,” she said, playing with one of her dangly earrings.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “we’ve got quite a lot of Guys to choose from now, don’t we?”

  “Yes, we do,” I replied simply, not knowing if I was really supposed to be answering the question. Belinda merely nodded, and tapped her red nails on the shiny ebony surface of the piano.

  “It’s pretty great,” I added, still wondering why exactly she’d called me over.

  “It is great,” Belinda continued, finally, “but now it’s almost an embarrassment of riches—there’s so many of them, I don’t how I’m ever going to decide who to cast in what part.”

  I had butterflies in my stomach. Belinda was talking to me like I was her equal, and it was exciting. After wondering earlier whether she’d chosen Jack as her favorite, I was now suddenly optimistic that she hadn’t forgotten me, after all.

  Belinda placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “If you don’t mind, Lou, I’m going to have you read with a bunch of them. I’ll have a better shot at casting them properly if there’s someone on that stage who really knows what they’re doing, you know? Someone who can bring out the talent in other people.” I was instantly flattered. Someone who can bring out the talent in other people felt like one of the best compliments I’d ever received.