Now it’s my time. I’m paired up with my favorite of our actresses, Letty Wainwright. And she’s perfect for Eleanor. Shee-it—we read the h-e-double-hockey sticks out of that scene. I think we nail it.
More reading for other characters ensues. Finally, Mr. Waters asks me to read a scene with Charles: me as Henry, he as Richard.
As we read, I realize I haven’t had so much fun since the table read of LOVE. There is electricity between us. And Mr. Waters is hanging on our every word. His mouth’s almost gaping open, he’s so into us.
It’s his policy not to reveal the casting until the following morning, but when we finish, he declaims, “I think we’ve found our Henry and Richard.” He slaps his palm over his mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”
Surprisingly, everyone applauds. At his faux pas. And his choices for the roles too, for they turn to both Charles and me as they finish applauding.
“Everybody was great, guys and gals,” Mr. Waters says, “and I have some pondering to do on the other roles, but Henry and Richard are hereby already cast. Take solace in the knowledge the rest of you who read for those roles are all underclassmen, so you’ll have another chance at the contest show next year. Or guys, you might get cast as John or Geoffrey or Philip, you know.”
Mr. Waters is such a nice guy I don’t think anyone will leave unhappy.
“I guess that’s it, group,” Mr. Waters says. “Cast List will be on the Call Board tomorrow morning. Good tryouts!”
Lots of noise as people leave. I hear “weren’t they great?” from one of the guys who read Henry and “awesome” answered by another who read for Richard. That makes me feel good.
Charles turns as he walks through the doorway, “It’ll be fun working with you, Dewey. I’ve always wanted to get to know you, to spend time with you. This is my chance.”
“Same back, Charles,” I call. I wouldn’t have put the compliment in that way, but doing the show together should prove to be fun.
Chapter 14
JIMMY STANDS stock-still, blocking the Call Board as I arrive to check the cast list.
“I made it, Dewey. Stage manager.” He grabs me and gives me air kisses on each cheek. “I’d like to thank all the little people who helped to make this happen. My parents, my brothers and sisters, the amazing star Dewey Snodgress, and most of all, God, without whom none of this would be possible.”
I stand and endure. Jimmy is a hoot most of the time, but right now, I’d rather be looking at the list to see who I’ll be playing opposite. I give him a little nudge. “Cut it out, Jimmy. I want to see the list. Besides, you knew you’d get chosen. Nobody else wanted the job.”
He places his hands over his heart and bows. “You cut me to the core, my liege, to the core.”
I push him out of the way and focus on the list. As my eyes move from role to role down the list, I nod and say, “Uh-huh,” for each person is who I would have chosen. It’s gonna be a great show.
“Dost thou approve, my king?”
I roll my eyes. “Cut it out, Jimmy.”
“Ast thou wisheth, my sovereign.”
I put my hand over his mouth. He bites it. As I shake my hand as if he has wounded me, I say, “Enough, Jerry Lewis. You keep acting like that, and I’m going to have them put your face on the clown at Clown Burger.”
“Do you think they would? Love their burgers.” Jimmy always has a comeback. “Now, I need to get to class, and you’ve got a sprint to the intercom room. Bell’s about to ring. See you later, alligator.”
We both leave.
When I pass Mrs. Haynes’s office, I hear, “Congratulations, Dewey. You’ll make a fine Henry.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Haynes,” I say, feeling warm inside at her compliment. I want to ask her how she knows the news, but I don’t stop, though, because the devotional awaits. If there aren’t a lot of announcements today, I may be up very soon. I have to be standing in wait. The show must go on—and on time.
And, sure enough, there are only two announcements, so I barely have time to pull out the script from my folder.
It’s an easy read today, so I finish pretty quickly. I get to choir right before Miss Zelko is beginning.
As I come through the door, the entire group applauds. Even the two guys I stand between on the risers. Neither is smiling, but both are clapping. I stop suddenly. Why are they applauding me?
“We’ve already congratulated Charles so now it’s time for congratulations to you, Dewey.” Miss Zelko has a huge smile pasted on her face. “We all predict The Lion in Winter is going to win every award this year. Just remember, you and your other cast members only need some….”
And in unison, the entire choir sings out, “Blood, sweat, and tears.”
Well, I guess Mr. Waters has been talking to people. First, Mrs. Haynes, now Miss Zelko. And from the heat I feel, my face is as red as my hair right now.
“Well, folks, time’s a wastin’. Shall we begin?” Miss Zelko is suddenly all work and no play.
I take my place, and the morning begins. But not without Charles leaning over and putting his hand on my shoulder a second. Just a small show of solidarity.
I ride cloud nine all morning. At lunch, Butch congratulates me. And Jeep comes up after Butch walks away.
“I’m so happy. I wish I could hug you.”
I give him a look.
“Like a friend, you know.” He looks a little uncomfortable. Like that’s not the way he wants to hug me. But I don’t let on anything. “Everybody’s talking about the play.”
“I’m surprised. Most kids around here don’t even know our drama club exists,” I say.
“That was before that review was in the paper. Your friend Butch has been passing it around. I’d bet most people in the senior class and half the juniors have read it by now. You’re famous, Dewey.”
I feel a rush from head to toe. Famous? I know it’s all relative—famous among a couple of hundred high school kids. But still, it’s a great feeling.
“You’re a star, Dewey. A real star. You’re gonna win best actor at contest. Your show’s gonna advance. You’ll win best actor at Regional. Another advance. Fore you know it, best actor at State.” All that in one breath.
As he gulps air, Jeep is bubbling over.
“The guy I love will be famous across the whole state.” He says that fast, but I hear that word.
“Let’s not count our chickens before they are hatched, Jeep,” I add very quickly. I don’t want to jinx it this early in the game. I also choose to ignore he said he loved me.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, a touch of hurt in his voice. “I guess I’ll go eat lunch. You not eatin’ today?”
“No—need to stay lean and mean to play Henry.”
“Okay. Well, see ya.” He walks away with his head down, and my heart breaks to see him so quickly down when he was, just a few minutes ago, happy and up.
But Jeep will bounce back. And I can’t let him even think there is a chance between us.
In history, Charles sits next to me, in Lisa’s old seat. With her across the room, after the breakup, the desk next to me remained vacant.
“Looks like a great cast, huh?” Charles says.
“Best contest cast ever.” I’m so excited about the casting I don’t realize the absurdity of my hyperbole. The Broadway cast of Lion was certainly the best cast ever, hands down.
Charles, however, is just as excited, I guess, for he answers, “You’re totally right.”
Before Mr. Waters came, the old drama teacher had taken his last show all the way to state. The show was JB It was a modern interpretation of the story of Job, in the Bible. That show was good—I saw it—but at State, it only got a few actors placed in All-Star Cast. Mr. Waters is a great director, and he knows his stuff. This year, the win is ours to take, from District to Regional and all the way to State.
“We’re the ones to beat this year. And no one, but no one, will be able to do that. Our toughest competition will be Diamond Hill-
Jarvis. The director there is amazing, but Mr. Waters is better than she is,” I say.
“I saw the show they did last month. Mr. Waters was there that night. The show was great, but I talked to Mr. Waters at intermission. He was really praising the show, but when I asked if there was anything he would have done differently, he kinda clammed up. Said, ‘It’s a wonderful show.’ But I could tell he had a million ideas to make it better. And judging from what I saw, the DHJ director and he are almost best friends.”
“Last year’s contest show she did was pretty much perfection, but I think Mr. Waters has ideas for Lion in Winter that will blow her out of the water. She’s good; he’s gooder.”
Charles laughs at my mangling of the English language. I said it that way because our history teacher, the ultimate language mangler, had just walked into the room. Charles looks over at him, then looks back at me and nods.
At last, after a history lecture fraught with mangled English, it’s time for drama class. Mr. Waters is talking to Jimmy when I get there. I head straight to his desk.
“There he is, the king of all England, Henry II.”
Both he and Jimmy bow.
“Cut it out,” I say, secretly enjoying their obeisance, no matter how fake it is.
“Gonna be a great show, guys,” Mr. Waters declares. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve. We’re beating Diamond Hill-Jarvis this year. Count on it. Bev may be one of my best friends, but she can’t out-direct me this time. Uh-uh. No way.”
His determination makes me quiver a bit. With this kind of resolve, we can’t lose.
Class ends, and I sit, a few minutes of quiet time after everyone leaves the room. Table read will begin in fifteen minutes, and I want to have my head on straight, even though it’s just the initial reading. I find hearing everyone read their parts this first round gives me insight to build on as to how my character will relate to the interpretations everyone else gives their characters. I know things will change and build as we progress, but there’s something about that cold reading. It inspires me.
As I’ve entered something closely akin to LuLu’s meditative state—or maybe I’ve just almost fallen asleep in the quiet—I open my eyes to Charles hovering over me.
“Excited?”
“You bet I am,” I answer.
“Do you think Mr. Waters will want us to sit in certain places?”
“He’ll probably want me to sit next to Eleanor. He might want you to sit next to Philip, since you have those big scenes together.” Rereading the script last night, it dawned on me how progressive this show was for high school theater. Richard and Philip actually sleep together, and Henry uses his knowledge of this to crush Richard. “I read the script again, and that scene between you and Philip is really powerful.”
“It will be much shorter in the cutting, I’m sure. Mr. Waters is progressive, but the judges may not be. And that school board we have. I know Mr. Waters doesn’t want to get shot out of the water before we ever get to contest. I’m betting he’ll cut almost, if not all, of that scene. Still, whether the words are there or not, I plan to play Richard as lovesick for Philip all the way. Hey, if it’s mostly subliminal subtext, nobody can say anything, can they? I think it’ll be enough I can shine with it. I hope so.”
Wow. Charles gave a lot of thought to this. And he looks so excited about playing Richard.
“Father was not too happy you got Henry.”
I brush that off. I don’t want to get him all worked up when we haven’t even begun rehearsing. “Who knows? You might get best actor with that scene.” I try to say it as positive as I can to make Charles happy. God knows, I don’t want that to happen.
“Well, that would make Father happy. Of course, he’s not too happy about Richard being….” His voice trails off, a catch in it.
“But that’s only one aspect of the character. After all, he was Richard the Lionhearted. Big warrior in the Crusades. He was a tough fighter, no matter how he felt in his private time.”
“That’s how Father is justifying it.” The look on Charles’s face is weird. Like he’s not happy at all his father’s choosing to see it this way. Pretty typical, if you ask me. What dad wants to even think his son could be that way, even if it’s only a part the kid is playing? I remember what my daddy said about my playing Randy. He wasn’t happy at all—as I expected—that I was, as he put it, “Playing a queer.” Thank goodness he was proud of me for playing one so well. He had nothing but praise for my performance. That was Daddy’s justification. Almost as lame as Charles’s dad’s.
The rest of the cast comes meandering in, Mr. Waters among them. We all sit, and sure enough, Eleanor’s put in the chair by me, as is Philip placed next to Charles.
Jimmy passes out the scripts that have been mimeographed. The contest show can only be forty minutes long, so Mr. Waters has had to cut the play with a very sharp knife—or pen, since that’s the case. Some of the best lines will be gone, I’m sure. All the more reason why everything has to be perfect, every performance, every move.
“Okay, gang, we’re going to read straight through. After we finish, I want to spend some time talking character.”
We spend the next forty minutes reading the play aloud. I love the scenes between me and Eleanor. She’s fiery and caustic. It’s like she’s barking at me, while all the time plotting and scheming. At the end, it’s so evident we love each other dearly, but we can’t possibly be in the same room with each other for very long. I’m going to love this.
And as expected, Mr. Waters cut the scene between Richard and Philip to the bone. Poor Charles. His big scene’s almost gone. I feel sorry for him. His dad will really be pissed my good scenes are almost intact, but Richard’s are pared down to the bare minimum. There goes Charles’s chance for best actor, I think.
“Great job. This is a dream cast. Now, here’s how I see this show: a jazz riff.”
Huh? Here we have a play set in the twelfth century, and Mr. Waters is comparing it to jazz. And what’s a riff, anyway?
I like that one of the other cast members, the guy playing John, pipes up: “What’s a jazz riff?” Now I don’t have to ask. He took the ignorance away from me.
“Glad you asked that,” Mr. Waters says with a smile. “A riff is a short piece of music, wild, and inventive, which may be repeated to make a point. It’s explosive and makes its point quickly.”
“Like the lines in here. These people just blurt out things, it seems, but what they say is carefully thought out and hammered home to make a point.” This is my Eleanor speaking. I feel excitement build inside me because she’s so in tune with the writing here.
“You’re no dumb Dora; you’re down with it, gal.”
We all look at him like he’s gone crazy. Well, since we all know and have worked with Mr. Waters, I’m sure the word would be “crazier.” The man’s a creative genius, and sometimes what he comes up with is insane. But it all makes sense eventually.
“What? You don’t know jazz talk?” He laughs. “Okay, here’s the thing. I want you to tell me this—if your character were an instrument in a jazz band, what instrument would it be?”
There’s that insanity peeking through. This takes the cake, I think, wondering how in the world this is going to help us. But amazingly, I instantly know what instrument Henry is.
“Tell me, Henry. What instrument?”
“A sax.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, Henry’s seductive and plays games. He gets under everybody’s skin, especially Eleanor’s. But he can be blunt and loud. A saxophone player can be smooth when he wants to be, but he can also be wailin’.” I heard a sax player on TV use that term once, and it seems to fit. And it humors Mr. Waters.
“Like the way you talk, Daddy-o.” He points at me. “Eleanor, you’re next.”
“A trumpet,” she says. “Good for short, sharp exclamations. That’s Eleanor. She’s best with her comebacks.”
“Wow.” Mr. Waters is obviously impressed
with her. And I am too. “You’ve got the chops to play this role. I knew it, and you just proved it.” He nods to her like the queen she is. “Richard.”
“Richard is a bass violin.”
“Hm-m-mmm….” Mr. Waters draws his response out. “Not what I was expecting. Except there are no wrong answers here. Care to explain?”
“Big. Powerful. Explosive. Underlining. When played with a bow, tender and haunting.” I look into Charles’s eyes, searching them with every word he’s spoken. There’s definitely something in Richard that strikes a chord in him.
“You really understand Richard, don’t you?” Mr. Waters says.
“I hope so,” Charles replies quietly.
The others each give their answers. One of my favorites is John’s: a cymbal. It seems he feels the cymbal is not good for much, but when it is dropped, it makes a loud, disruptive crash. Wow.
“Okay, guys and gals, I think we have a great start here. What say we adjourn until tomorrow, when we start some blocking? Make sure you have pencils with you.” Mr. Waters constantly reminds us because someone always forgets. You can’t write blocking in ink. Your moves on stage are always subject to change. “Dewey, hang behind, please.”
I wonder what he wants, but turns out it’s nothing. “I know you have performances this weekend. I’ll try to keep rehearsals Thursday and Friday after school short. Okay?”
“Okay with me. It’s really not a problem, but it would give me a little extra time to prepare.”
“Well, as good as this cast’s going to be, cutting short two rehearsals is not going to hurt us one bit.” I love his confidence.
Charles is waiting outside in the hall.
“Great rehearsal, huh?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. Why is he suddenly my new best friend?
“I liked that jazz thing we did at the end.”
“Cool.” I start to walk. “Gotta go.”
“Wait. You wanna run lines sometime? I could give you my phone number.”
I stop walking. “Okay.” I start to take out something to write on, when he gives me a slip of paper.
All You Need Is Love Page 18
