“Yeah,” I admitted, “it was.”
“Brave,” said my mom. “It was also brave.”
I should have been feeling better. No one had said that I’d done anything wrong; in fact, it seemed like everyone was on my side. Jenny kept sending me text messages, confirming my new reputation of “School Hero”:
“OMG U R SO FIERCE!!!”
“KIDS R CALLING U THE DRAGON SLAYER.”
But until Jack returned the three voice mails and seven text messages I’d sent him, I couldn’t let myself truly believe that I’d done the right thing. I needed to know that Jack had gotten out of that auditorium alive, and that he wasn’t mad at me. I kept staring at my phone, waiting for it to light up with his name across the screen. But it didn’t. Something else happened instead.
At six thirty, just as Dad was clearing our dinner plates from the table, our doorbell rang.
“Why don’t you answer it, Lou?” Dad said, knowing how badly I wanted Jack to be standing on our front steps.
I forced myself not to run to the door, taking deep breaths and preparing myself for whatever Jack might say to me. But what I wasn’t prepared for at all was the sight of both Jack and Belinda standing side by side on our stoop.
“Hey, Lou,” said Jack, calmly, “is it all right if we come in?”
Belinda looked so out of place in our living room. The soft earth tones of the couch and throw pillows provided a shy, neutral background to Belinda’s fiery hair and sparkly shirt. That she looked so uncomfortable only heightened the contrast. My parents stood awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, uncertain as to their role in the situation. Jack, on the other hand, seemed more relaxed than I’d seen him in weeks. He and I sat across from Belinda in matching armchairs, waiting for someone to speak. Behind us, Dad cleared his throat.
“Um. I think we’ll give you guys some privacy.”
“Yes,” Mom added as she started to follow Dad up the stairs, “but call us if you need anything.”
“I will,” I said, turning around to let her see that I was okay. I waited until their footsteps reached the second floor, then turned back to face Belinda.
“So,” she finally began, “Jack and I spent the rest of the afternoon . . . clearing the air.”
I looked at Jack, who nodded in confirmation.
“And I’d like to . . . apologize to you, Lou, for giving you such a terrible ultimatum earlier. Obviously . . .” Belinda paused. “Obviously that didn’t work out for anybody.”
She looked at me expectantly, though I wasn’t exactly sure what to say.
“I heard everyone left,” I said quietly.
“Yes, everyone left.” Belinda sighed. “Everyone except for Jack.”
I raised my eyebrows at Jack as if to say, Why? but he just kept nodding, waiting for Belinda to continue.
“I’m sure Jack will fill you in on our conversation, and I hope he does—because I want you both to understand why I’ve been behaving in such a way.”
Only hours ago we’d all been engaged in battle, with no clear end in sight. But now here sat Belinda, in complete surrender, and she seemed like a different person.
“While I am here to apologize,” she went on, “I am also here to ask for your help.”
Jack tucked a leg underneath him and leaned toward me. “You have to get the cast to come back,” he said earnestly.
“Please,” implored Belinda, “since you’re the one they followed out of that auditorium, it means you’re the one they’ll follow back in.”
They were both completely serious. I was dying to know what Belinda had said to Jack that had made him this committed to keeping the show alive. But I’d just have to wait to find out until after she’d left. In the meantime, they needed an answer.
“Okay, but . . . I’m not the only one they’ll follow,” I said slowly, fixing my eyes on Jack. “They’ll follow both of us. We can work together to bring everybody back.”
“Thank you.” Belinda exhaled with relief. “I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been a lot to take.” She shifted on the couch, measuring her words carefully.
“It’s funny—I was about to say that it’s only because this show means a great deal to me, but the truth is—this show means a great deal to all of us.” Belinda looked at me and Jack, her eyes now glistening.
“You two aren’t on that stage just for yourselves, the way I used to be. I am truly impressed—and inspired—by how much you care about each other.”
Belinda rose from the couch, gathered her coat, and headed toward the door, but not before stopping to place a hand on each of our heads.
“You’ve both taught me something today.”
And moments later, she was out the door and turning the key in her car’s ignition, leaving Jack and me alone.
“So,” I said, “you’re not mad at me?”
Jack smiled and shook his head.
“No. I thought you lost your mind, but I was never mad. I couldn’t believe it when I looked up and saw you marching off the stage. That took some guts, Lou.”
I wondered how long people at school would be talking about me. I wondered if Tanner would be talking about me, and I suddenly experienced the same funny feeling I’d had when he’d looked at me.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked, startling me out of my thoughts and making my cheeks go red.
“Oh yeah,” I said, covering, “I was just thinking that I couldn’t stay there and let Belinda talk to you like that.”
“Yeah, no one could,” Jack snorted, “not even Tanner Falzone.”
“I know, he—” I began, then stopped myself as I felt my cheeks burning. Again.
“What?” Jack said, his eyes widening, “Tanner what?”
“I’ll tell you in a sec,” I said, trying to sound casual. “First tell me what Belinda said to you.”
Jack eyed me with suspicion.
“All right, then I’ll go fast, because I need to know what you’re talking about.”
“Wait,” I said, hopping up from my chair, “let me get some chips for this. I barely ate dinner.”
“Yeah, good call—I haven’t eaten at all. Is it okay if I take off my shoes?”
“Totally!”
It was a cold winter night, but my house was cozy and warm. There was an unopened bag of potato chips in the pantry and a Cleveland Browns knit cap shoved in the sleeve of my parka. Best of all, my friend Jack Goodrich was waiting in the living room to tell me a story, and no dragon was going to get in the way of that.
-JACK-
Our first day back in rehearsal was like walking into an audition waiting room. Except this time it wasn’t the students who were auditioning. Belinda paced nervously across the stage, waiting for our cast to file in. Her eyes were fixed on the double doors, watching to see if everyone would return.
I already knew she didn’t have anything to worry about. As soon as Lou told me about her run-in with Tanner, it was clear he’d do anything she asked.
“Ohmigosh, he totally likes you!” I said that evening in her living room.
“He does not!” she cried back.
“Whatever, we are totally going to milk this for all it’s worth.”
I ducked as Lou hurled a chip at me, her face turning bright red.
Once Belinda apologized, she wasted no time in getting us back to work. Our cast began filing up the stairs to the stage, but before Jenny would leave her seat, she turned to us.
“Are you sure this is okay? ’Cause I do not want to waste a fan kick on her.”
“Trust us!” Lou said.
Belinda was back! With rehearsals once again under way, the show did a complete one-eighty. Belinda now approached our production with an air of collaboration. When we got to the scene in Act 2 where the gamblers take to the sewers to shoot dice, we waited for her to come up and s
et the blocking that had been used on Broadway.
“You know, why don’t you try doing the scene once by yourselves?” Belinda said, looking up from her script.
“I’d be interested to see what comes up organically,” she said, almost shuddering at the word.
The result was hilarious. Especially when we got to the part where Big Jule threatens Nathan for refusing to join the game.
“Why not?!” Tanner said threateningly, grabbing on to the collar of my shirt. Instinctively, I wrapped my hands around his wrists, and he was able to lift me off the floor, my legs kicking as I squeaked out my line.
“I see no reason.”
For the first time in weeks, Belinda made the sound I’d been dying to hear—laughter.
“Did you guys plan that beforehand?” she asked, giggling at the conclusion of the scene.
“No,” Tanner replied, turning to me. “And for a little guy, you’re heavier than you look.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“Maybe you’re just weaker than you thought,” Sebastian teased.
With Belinda’s blessing, our cast felt like they had permission to play, to see what came naturally, rather than using what had worked on Broadway twenty years ago. By the time we got to our final dress rehearsal, we’d created a show that everyone could be proud of. While Belinda still served as our leader, there wasn’t a single cast member who didn’t make their mark in some way.
Opening nights always held a little bit of magic—the dressing rooms with fresh flowers, the nervous excitement sweeping through the halls like a force field, and the understanding that no matter how many things went wrong in the dress rehearsal, we would somehow get through it as a cast.
Over in the girls’ dressing room, Lou was perched in front of her mirror. Belinda stood close behind, armed with a curling iron.
“So the pieces in the front,” she said, wrapping a strand of Lou’s hair around the hot iron, “you want to curl them in the direction away from your face.”
Who knew Belinda was also a master when it came to hair and makeup tricks?
“That’s how you get that Broadway showgirl look.”
A cluster of girls looked on, wrapping their bangs around two of their fingers in imitation.
“And once you put on your final coat of lipstick,” she said, shifting over to Bridget’s dressing station, “use an eye-shadow brush to dust your lips with a little bit of blush. That way it won’t get on your costumes when you’re doing a quick change.”
Even Jenny, a self-proclaimed makeup expert, couldn’t help eavesdropping, reaching stealthily for her own makeup brush.
Choosing my favorite moment of Guys and Dolls would be almost impossible. We made so many memories on opening night alone, like when Lou and I performed “Sue Me.” How we made ourselves red in the face holding out the “All riiiiiiiiiiiight already” to a comically long length, each daring each other to be the first to cut off.
Or maybe it was the scene where Sky confesses his real name, Obediah, to Sarah Brown after sharing their first kiss. Since day one, Sebastian and Bridget had been nervous about it, and after a few awkward attempts in rehearsal, they both agreed that Sebastian should just place a thumb between their mouths before turning upstage and fake smooching. But on closing night, with apparently nothing to lose, shy little Bridget Livak grabbed him by the face and planted one on him like a starlet in a Hollywood romance film. Dumbfounded, Sebastian just stared at her, totally blanking on his next line. Finally Bridget just reached into his pocket and pulled out his prop wallet, pretending to find a driver’s license and gasping in feigned surprise. “Obediah, what kind of a name is that?!”
Or perhaps it was getting to perform “Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat,” how impossible those tricky harmonies seemed that first day and how polished they sounded now, even earning a standing ovation at the closing performance. Or maybe it was the first time we made it through the “Crapshooters’ Dance,” how Tanner’s words of “can’t” and “dance” still rang in my ears from the audition. It was so cool to watch the boys prove to the whole school that just because you’re a boy doesn’t mean you can’t dance.
The thing I couldn’t get used to was saying good-bye to a show after only three performances. Into the Woods had been the same way. Three performances felt like nothing! On Broadway, three shows passed in the blink of an eye, yet here we were, dropping the curtain on the musical we’d rehearsed for two months. As we took our final bow, I looked around in disbelief as I thought of our costumes that would be packed up and the sets that would be broken down. The orchestra played its final chords, sending us rushing backstage to change into our party clothes. While I was excited to celebrate the success of the run, there was still something I wanted to do, so as my castmates dashed out to hug their families, I hung back, hoping to get one last look.
The auditorium was silent. It had a kind of musty warmth, like the smell of old clothes you’d forgotten about, buried in a box in the back of your closet. Even though the room was empty, it still buzzed, a reminder of the magic that had just happened within its walls. The cheering parents and friends had made their way out to the lobby, leaving me alone onstage, at least for a few minutes before our custodian would emerge to sweep up the abandoned programs and fallen candy wrappers. I loved standing onstage after a performance. Even after years of performing, often in much bigger houses, looking out into a vacant theater still gave me a rush. It seemed so full of possibilities. Looking down at my feet, I thought about all the things that had happened in this very spot.
Hearing footsteps, I turned to find Lou, still in her period hairstyle, carrying her makeup box and dance bag.
“Congrats, buddy! You were SO great,” she said in a cartoony voice. “Remember when you had to practice saying that in New York? You were SOOO great.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” I groaned, cringing at the memory.
“Can you believe that was only a few months ago?”
It was true. The Ohio snow had only just melted, but with all that had happened with Guys and Dolls, New York felt like ages ago.
“I’m just teasing.” She grinned, joining me at the edge of the stage. “And I actually do mean it. You were so great.”
“Thanks, Lou,” I replied. “So were you. I really lucked out.”
Hearing these words were nice, but they did make me think of that backstage meeting with Corey and the praise I never gave him. It was probably time to shoot him an email and send that long overdue congratulations. After all that had happened with Belinda, I realized that if you couldn’t help feeling jealous, you could at least control the way it affected others.
I reached up and straightened my fedora (as a show of solidarity, all the boys decided we were going to wear our hats to the cast party). I wondered how ridiculous we must have looked—old-timey looks on top, cast T-shirts and jeans on the bottom.
“Do you need a ride over to Geraci’s Restaurant for the cast party?” Lou asked.
“No,” I responded, “my parents and Nana came again tonight, so I’ll just head over with them.”
“Well, well, well,” a voice called from behind us. “If it isn’t my little guy and doll.”
“Hey, Belinda,” we said, turning to find her striking a pose. She was wearing shiny black high-waisted pants, red suspenders, and a ruffled tuxedo-style shirt and a bow tie. She looked ready to perform some modern tango number on So You Think You Can Dance.
“Shouldn’t you guys be stuffing your faces with pizza right now?” she asked.
“Probably.” Lou shrugged. “We were just getting ready to leave.”
“It was a good show tonight, wasn’t it?” Belinda said, slinking downstage.
“It really was,” we chimed in unison.
“I thought the scene at the Hot Box Club was the best it’s ever been,” she said, sidling up to
us. “I’m so glad you guys thought up that bit with the wedding veil. It slayed tonight.”
“Aw, thanks,” we said together.
“So what are you going to do now that the show is over?” I asked Belinda somewhat warily.
“Obviously you have to stay forever,” Lou insisted.
“Well, funny you should say that,” Belinda said, crossing her arms. “I just spoke with Principal Lang tonight—who went bananas for the show, by the way—and it sounds like Mrs. Wagner is recovering well, so she’ll be more than ready to return in the fall.”
We nodded, trying not to look disappointed, out of respect for the poor woman.
“But . . . ,” she continued, a coy smile curling the edges of her mouth. “She’s decided to just stick with teaching music, so it looks like I’ll be staying on to direct your next musical.”
Lou let out a shriek of excitement as my face broke out in an enormous grin.
“That means I’ll need you to put on your thinking caps and help me come up with a show that would be fun to do. Think you can do that?” She winked.
I couldn’t help myself; I lunged in and hugged Belinda around the waist. Lou joined me, flinging her arms over mine. Belinda said nothing, just held our shoulders as we hugged her tightly.
After a moment, Lou spoke up, her face still squished against my arm. “Thoroughly Modern Millie.”
“Ohh, so you can play Millie,” I said, rolling my eyes, still clinging to Belinda. “No, let’s do something edgy, like Caroline, or Change.”
“Are you crazy?” Lou pinched me. “We’re in middle school,” she whined. “But . . . if you happened to choose Cabaret, I know someone who’d be a great Sally Bowles.”
“Hey, you can’t just pick shows that you’d be the star of,” I grunted. “How about A Catered Affair?”
“Evita.”
“Dogfight.”
“Wicked.”
“Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812.”
“Well, looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Belinda said, gently prying us off of her. “We should probably get to that cast party.”
Act 2 Page 13
