What If... All the Rumors Were True

by Liz Ruckdeschel

  “We have two more Titanias to audition, and then we’ll move on to Puck, Bottom and the lovers,” Mr. Lyons said. “Next up, Mary Fernandez?”

  “You know what?” Whitney said. “I don’t think I want to audition after all.”

  Typical, Haley thought. If Coco’s not going to act, her mini-me won’t either.

  “Good thinking, Whit,” Coco said. “As assistant director I’d never give you a decent part anyway. Besides, I think you’d be much better on costumes.”

  Whitney let the original insult slide. “That would be a lot more fun,” she said, already thinking about fabrics.

  “I’ll tell Mr. Lyons at the end of auditions,” Coco said, writing Whitney=costumes in a notebook. “What about you, Miller? Ready to throw in the towel yet?”

  “No,” Haley said. “I still want to audition. Just to see what happens.”

  “Your funeral,” Coco said, shaking her head.

  Haley had no idea how her audition would turn out. “I need a few minutes to concentrate and gather my thoughts,” she told Coco and Whitney.

  “Good luck,” Whitney said genuinely.

  Haley settled in the front row and watched the rest of the tryouts. Shaun mounted the stage in his donkey’s head and brought the house down with his slapstick reading of his lines. Afterward, Irene quietly went to Mr. Lyons and asked to scratch her name off the audition list. “I’d rather help design the sets,” she offered. Haley wondered if Irene had succumbed to stage fright. She certainly looked a little green.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Lyons told Irene. “We’ll need skilled artists to create the Athens I’m envisioning.”

  As Haley watched, she noticed what worked and what didn’t in various line readings. How speaking the unfamiliar Elizabethan lines naturally—but still with a dramatic flair—seemed to work best. Facing the audience, speaking clearly and moving around made an actor more interesting to watch than someone who just stood there like a wooden soldier, reading straight from the text.

  Haley paid extra attention when Devon took the stage, auditioning for Lysander and Demetrius. Devon had always been a little on the quiet side, so Haley was surprised to see him stride across the boards with great confidence. Mr. Lyons asked him to read one of Demetrius’s speeches for a second time. Devon took a breath, closed his eyes, then opened them and began to speak.

  “‘O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyes? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus’ snow, fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow when thou hold’st up thy hand: O, let me kiss this princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!’”

  The sound of Devon’s voice made Haley swoon. The words were so romantic, and he said them with such passion… She felt more determined than ever to win the part of Helena. Then, if Devon played Demetrius, he would say those beautiful words directly to her.

  Sebastian tried out for Demetrius as well. He read the same speech as Devon, though it was a touch harder to understand through his accent. But he looked magnificent onstage, his body moving gracefully across the platform, his hair gleaming in the lights. What if he got the part instead of Devon? Haley thought idly. Playing opposite Sebastian wouldn’t be the end of the world.

  Haley went outside for some air and to focus while Mr. Lyons auditioned boys for the part of Puck, the mischievous fairy. When Haley finally returned to the auditorium, Mr. Lyons announced, “We’re on our last Puck, so Hermias and Helenas, get ready, you’re next. Okay, let me see Spencer Eton.”

  Haley heard Coco and Whitney, ten rows behind her, gasp in surprise. Haley was pretty shocked herself. Spencer sauntered up the aisle as if he were the opening nightclub act in Las Vegas, waving and doing the old point-and-shoot. No one was cheering, but somehow it looked as if Spencer heard the roar of the crowd, at least in his head.

  “I am that merry wanderer of the night,” Spencer read with surprising verve.

  Maybe he would make a good Puck, Haley thought, that is, if merry night-wandering is involved.

  “Interesting. Thank you, Spencer,” Mr. Lyons said. “Okay, girls, let’s see some spirited Helenas and Hermias.”

  Before long Mr. Lyons called Haley’s name. She stood up, her stomach fluttering nervously, and walked up to the stage.

  “Please read from act three, scene two, Helena’s speech,” Mr. Lyons said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Haley remembered that scene. Helena, who loves Demetrius, thinks her friends are trying to trick her, to make her think Demetrius loves her when she believes he loves Hermia. She feels betrayed by her friends; she doesn’t know whom to trust. It was a feeling Haley could relate to. She opened her script and read the lines.

  “‘Injurious Hermia! Most ungrateful maid! Have you conspired, have you with these contrived to bait me with this foul derision? Is all the counsel that we two have shared, the sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent, when we have chid the hasty-footed time for parting us,—O, is it all forgot? All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?’”

  Haley found herself lost in the words, in the sad, betrayed loneliness of poor, unrequited Helena, and for a few minutes she forgot she was onstage in front of dozens of people, being judged on her acting. When the speech was finished, she looked up. The stage light was in her eyes, and she couldn’t see the audience well, but she sensed how quiet they were. No shifting in their seats, no whispering or talking or murmuring of lines. They’d really listened.

  “Very nice,” Mr. Lyons said. “Thank you, Haley.”

  Haley stepped off the stage and the next Helena was called. Her bones were buzzing with excitement and her first taste of the thrill of the theater.

  “You were awesome,” Irene said as Haley walked past the auditorium seats. “Really good. You’ll get a part for sure.”

  “Thanks,” Haley said, still dazed.

  Coco pursed her lips, shook her head and glanced at her clipboard. “Nice try,” she said. “But don’t quit your day job.”

  Suddenly, Haley wondered if the part was hers after all.

  Surprise, surprise—we have an actress on our hands. Haley has discovered a new talent she didn’t know she had. Is anything more exciting than that?

  But is Haley’s fate as an actress really in Coco’s hands? If that’s the case, Coco is right—Haley might as well give up now. Is she kidding herself? What about all her other activities—does she really have time to memorize lines on top of everything else?

  And what about the boy situation? Both Sebastian and Devon tried out, but in Haley’s opinion Devon was the better actor. If she wants face time with Sebastian, she might be better off watching him in the pool.

  If you think Haley should listen to Coco and forget about the play, go to the "SWIM MEET". If you think Haley would rather spend time honing her acting skills with Devon, go to "ACTING COACH". Finally, if you think Haley should believe in herself, in her newfound acting talent and in whatever spark of humanity still resides in Coco’s heart-on-ice, send her to "CASTING CALL".

  Fate plays funny tricks sometimes—you never can tell how things will turn out.

  IT’S DEBATABLE

  Playing devil’s advocate only works if you’re the devil.

  “Back for more, eh?” Alex Martin said, giving Haley a self-satisfied smile as she walked into Debate Team Central for her first official competition. “You must be a glutton for punishment.”

  “I can’t resist a challenge,” Haley retorted, wishing she’d come up with something more clever to say. Alex Martin was such a smug smarty-pants. Why did Haley have to find him so easy on the eyes? In an uptight, geeky-cute way, of course. But still, things would have been much easier if she’d been able to despise him in peace.

  “A challenge. Right,” Alex said, leading her to her seat next to Annie on the Hillsdale team’s side of the room. “Our first competition is against Ridgewood. It doesn’t get more chall
enging than that. Hope you can hack it.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Haley said with more confidence than she felt. She surveyed the Ridgewood team across the podium. The debaters were seated in the order they’d speak, and Haley was second from the end, which meant she’d be debating the intense-looking Ridgewood girl in the dark red cardigan. The young woman’s thick black hair was smoothed back in a ponytail; her dark bushy brows formed two sharp lines over her piercing blue eyes; she had a pointy nose and chin, angular cheekbones and ruby lipstick to match her sweater.

  “Yikes,” Annie whispered. “Looks like Alex matched you against Firemouth Francine for your very first debate. Tough break, kid.”

  “Firemouth Francine?” Haley said. The name seemed to fit, though Haley didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Francine Kendall,” Annie explained. “She’s Ridgewood’s captain. A legend, and not just in her own mind. Her arguments are airtight and they sting. She makes her opponents look like morons. And she usually makes them cry. We’ve never beaten them, and it’s because of her.”

  “Great.” Haley cast an irritated glance at Alex, who took his seat beside her as last debater. He’d purposely given her the toughest competitor in the history of high school debating for her very first contest, in a mean-spirited attempt to break her and make her quit the team. Or so Haley had to assume.

  “I thought you might need this,” Alex said, straightening his red-and-blue-striped repp tie and handing Haley a handkerchief. “I suppose I’ll be accepting your resignation by the end of the afternoon.”

  “Don’t worry, you won’t be seeing any tears out of these eyes,” Haley said bravely.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Alex said. “You’re a tough girl. Maybe you ought to stick to the soccer field and leave the debate team to the intellects.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard the term well rounded?” Haley snapped. “Some people can be athletic and intellectual.”

  “That’s suburban myth,” Alex said matter-of-factly. “A jock is a jock—and they’re usually called dumb for a reason.”

  What an arrogant jerk! Haley tried to look unruffled as she sat in her seat, inwardly fuming at him. So pretentious! And so full of himself! What has he ever done to demonstrate his fantastic intellect?

  “Alex, lay off her,” Annie commanded.

  “This is nothing,” Alex said. “Just a warm-up. If she can’t take a little ribbing she’s in the wrong place.”

  Haley silently wondered if maybe he was right.

  Ms. Dearborn, a history teacher and the debate team’s faculty advisor, took the podium to begin the meet. “Welcome to Hillsdale High, Ridgewood debaters. This is our first meet of the year and it looks as if it could be one of the fiercest. So best of luck to you all. Our topic today: nature versus nurture. Resolved: the genes a child is born with have more effect on that child’s life than the conditions in which he or she is raised. Ridgewood takes the pro side. We’ll begin with Ridgewood’s first debater, freshman Nancy Zewicki.”

  Haley listened carefully, making notes in the margins of her own argument, while Nancy Zewicki, a ditzy redhead in a fringed dress argued that a person’s fate is set at birth, though not just because of genetics. “Just look at the ancient study of astrology,” Nancy said without a hint of irony. “For centuries people have believed that the pattern of the stars you were born under decides the course of your life. Has anyone ever proven this theory wrong? I’m a Sagittarius myself, and every profile I’ve ever read totally, like so totally, fits me.”

  Nancy Zewicki—Ridgewood’s version of Whitney Klein, Haley scribbled in her notebook. Annie glanced at the note, circled it and scrawled so totally! beside it.

  “But don’t be fooled,” Annie whispered. “This is part of their strategy. They lull you into a false sense of superiority and then go in for the kill.”

  The next few Ridgewood debaters were tougher, just as Annie had predicted. Haley had a hard time concentrating on what they were saying. Her mind kept drifting to Alex and his obnoxious comments. How could he call her a dumb jock, after she practically blew him away at her debate tryout? Why was he so determined to put her down? Her heart was racing, but it wasn’t simple nerves that stirred her blood—it was her growing wrath.

  Annie nudged her. “Pay attention! Firemouth is up.”

  Francine Kendall stood at the podium with regal posture, clacking her note cards on the wood. “Nature versus nurture is the chicken-and-egg conundrum of modern science,” she began. “The classic conflict. But scientists have made great strides recently in the study of genetics, and the more they learn, the stronger the evidence: your genes are your destiny. In 2003 a team of researchers at Oxford University began a rigorous blind study….”

  Oh, no, Haley thought. Firemouth had killer stats. She’d obviously spent hours in the library researching this topic. Haley would have liked to do more research, but who had the time?

  “The identical twins were separated at birth and raised on two different continents,” Francine was saying when Haley tuned back in. “They never knew of each other’s existence. And yet both were good at spelling and bad at math, both became competitive springboard divers, and both developed tonsillitis at the age of seven….”

  Alex turned to Haley and waggled his eyebrows at her, as if to say, Top that, jockette. What was his problem? Didn’t he want his own team to win?

  The smoldering fury in Haley’s chest raged to a full-blown inferno by the time Francine concluded her argument. Haley took the podium, hardly knowing what she was doing, barely glancing at her notes. She didn’t need them. The argument poured out of her. She wasn’t the daughter of two social justice fanatics for nothing. This was one argument she had down cold—and her anger at Alex seemed to ignite her brain.

  “No one would argue that genetics are not important in any person’s formation,” Haley said. “But study after study has shown that children—even adopted children, who don’t share their parents’ genes—are most influenced by the behavior of those around them, particularly their parents. Abuse an adopted child, and that child will most likely grow up to be abusive, whether his birth parents were or not. Nurture is powerful enough to override nature in almost everything—even disease. Just look at the effects of behavioral elements like smoking or diet on health….”

  Haley was on fire. She could almost see the smoke coming out of her mouth as she spoke. Who’s the fire mouth now? Haley thought as her words tumbled out so smoothly and articulately even she was a little surprised. When she was finished, both debate teams gaped at her, stunned.

  Haley took her seat. “You killed it,” Annie whispered. “Did you see the look on Francine’s face?”

  Alex cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Ridgewood’s final debater—a boy named Mark Deavers—made his argument. Then it was Alex’s turn to speak. The judges took a few minutes to consult, then ruled in favor of Hillsdale, four–three. For the first time in five years, the Hawks had beaten Ridgewood.

  Francine Kendall came over to shake Haley’s hand personally. “Congratulations. You seem very passionate on this subject. It’s always hard to defeat someone who really believes in what they’re saying.”

  “Thank you,” Haley said, though she wondered what she’d really been so passionate about. Was it really nature versus nurture? Or was it something else? Something to do with Alex Martin?

  “Great job, Haley,” Annie said. “You’re an invaluable addition to the team. I’m so glad I overrode Alex on accepting you.”

  “Speaking of Alex…,” Haley said as Alex approached. She waited for him to apologize, to admit his dumb-jock characterization of her was way off base.

  Instead he said, “You’re welcome.” And walked away.

  You’re welcome? You’re welcome for what?

  “Do you believe that guy?” Haley said to Annie. “He thinks I should thank him for pissing me off before the debate—is that it? Is he taking credit for our victory? For my
performance? He’s trying to say it was some sort of strategy?”

  “Uh, it looks that way,” Annie said. “And guess what—it worked.”

  Speechless, Haley walked through the school on her way to the bike rack. She couldn’t stop thinking about Alex. She kept seeing his face in front of her, arching his eyebrows, smirking that smirk, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. So manipulative, so arrogant, so infuriating…and yet…so irresistible, too.

  The debate had gone late and the school was now quiet, almost entirely empty for the day. Haley went out the back door of the building and spotted Irene and Devon carrying big cans of floor paint. What are they up to? Haley wondered. Why are they even here at school at this hour? Haley didn’t want to think the worst, but this did look suspicious. Irene, after all, was no stranger to pranks. Shaun had grafittied her likeness on this very building just a year ago. And there was something dark and brooding about Devon. Haley considered whether to investigate.

  The rebels are definitely known for their mischievous side. Irene and Devon are capable of just about anything, Haley is sure. Especially when it involves paint and the back of the school building. But is this something Haley should know more about?

  And what about Alex Martin? He sure loves the head games. Is there another side to him—a less intellectual side? Could he be good at something besides mouthing off? Is he the least bit, as Haley mentioned, well rounded? After all, no one is all brain. He does have a body to go with that beautiful mind.

  Haley’s love life is pretty turbulent right now, with multiple guys swirling around her like satellites, and she has yet to really settle on one. If you think Alex has a hidden good side, send Haley home to think about her romantic prospects on "GUEST APPEARANCE".

  Haley’s nothing if not curious, and she’s likely to wonder about Devon and Irene and their latest “art project” for some time. If you think Haley should follow them and find out what they’re up to, go to "SET DESIGN".