by Kieran Scott
ACT FIVE, SCENE TWO
In which:
WE UNITE OVER A COMMON CAUSE
“TAMA DIDN’T COME TO SCHOOL TODAY,” FRED ANNOUNCED THE moment I walked out of history class. He was sweaty and out of breath, and his bangs were stuck to his forehead.
“How the heck did you get here so fast?” I asked him. The bell had just rung. The reverberations still hung in the air.
“Told Maynard I was gonna ralph. You know how bodily functions skeev him,” Fred said proudly.
“Yes. An odd trait for a gym teacher,” I said as the rest of the class crowded out behind me. “So, wait, she’s not even here?”
I had planned on spending my lunch period talking her down, stroking her ego and convincing her she had to do the musical. If I could just put an end to this particular crisis, then maybe I could go on my date with Cameron tonight and actually not be stressed. But if Tama was home playing sick . . .
“She wasn’t in homeroom, and Jonathan said she never showed for Spanish, either.” Fred yanked up on his jeans. “She’s MIA.”
There was no way. There was just no way that Tama was actually doing this to us. All that work. All those rehearsals. Why would she do all of that and then quit? Didn’t she see how insane this was?
“Well, we have to call her,” I said, starting to panic. “She can’t do this.”
We turned the corner and saw Ashley, Robbie, Steph and Andy all waiting for us outside the doors to the cafeteria. Ashley immediately threw her hands up.
“She’s not here! What’re we gonna do?” she squeaked.
“We are so screwed,” Stephanie said. “People have already bought tickets! They’re gonna want their money back and—”
“This never would have happened if Mr. Katz had just cast me as Sandy and Stephanie as Rizzo, like we wanted,” Ashley pointed out.
I glanced at Stephanie. I hadn’t thought she’d admitted her lust for the Rizzo part to anyone but me. She shrugged meekly. “We were just talking about it.”
“This is all my fault,” Robbie said, shaking his head. “I should’ve never gone out with her. You don’t date your costar. It’s Hollywood 101.”
“You should’ve come to me,” Andy said. “I could have told you that you guys would never work out.”
“Oh, really?” Robbie said defensively.
“He has a system,” I told him, touching Robbie’s arm. “Just chill.” I took a deep breath and tried to think. “Okay, have you tried calling her?”
“I did,” Robbie said. “She’s not picking up.”
“Damn caller ID. Has anyone tried from the pay phone?” I asked, spotting it through the cafeteria doors.
“Good idea!” Stephanie said.
We all rushed through the doors and I grabbed the phone. The dial tone was so deafening I had to hold it away from my ear.
“Who has change?” Ashley asked.
“Fred! Fred always has change!” I said.
Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of coinage, along with a big white fuzzy and a half-mashed mini Snickers. I grabbed a couple of quarters, fed the phone and quickly dialed her number.
As the line started to ring, everyone huddled in closer to me. When it finally connected, my heart gave a lurch. In all the insanity of the moment, I hadn’t thought of a thing to say.
“ You’ve reached Tama. If you don’t know what to do at the beep, I can’t help you.”
“Damn,” I said under my breath.
“You know, it might come up as ‘Washington School District’ or something on the caller ID,” Andy said. “She’d know it was us.”
“Good point.” I hung up. “Now what?”
“Why don’t I call her?” Fred suggested, whipping his cell phone out of his backpack. “There’s no way she’s gonna recognize my number.”
“Good plan,” I said. I rattled off the number for him and it took him three tries in all his fumbling, but he finally dialed it in.
“It’s ringing,” Fred announced.
I held my breath. I think everyone else did, too.
“Still ringing,” he said.
Please pick up, Tama. Please, please, please. . . .
“Machine,” Fred announced.
“Just hang up,” Ashley grumbled.
Fred raised a finger.
“Fred. What’re you doing?” I asked.
“I’m gonna leave a message,” he said.
“What’re you gonna say?” Stephanie hissed. But it was too late.
“Tama! Hi! It’s Fred Frontz here! We were all just wondering if you’d maybe change your mind about, you know, coming back and doing the show ’cause we’d all really like to have you. The show must go on and all that. So, we hope you change your mind. And when I say we, I mean me, KJ, Robbie, Steph, Ashley and Andy, who are all here. Say hi, guys!”
He held up the phone. We all looked at one another.
“Uh . . . hi!” we chorused lamely.
“So, see!? Are you feeling the love? ’Cause I’m feeling the love,” Fred continued. “So I guess that’s all. Have a good . . . you know . . . day and—”
“Hang up,” Robbie whispered.
“And hope you feel better and—”
It was like watching one of those Oscar speeches that makes no sense and goes on for too long.
“Dude. Hang up,” Robbie said.
“And I guess we’ll just see you, hopefully, tomorrow at least, and—”
Robbie took the phone from him and hit the off button. Fred pushed his hands into his pockets and stared at it. “Voice mail makes me nervous.”
“No, really?” Ashley said.
“So what do we do now?” Steph asked.
“We go to plan B,” I said.
“What’s plan B?”
I took a deep breath and sighed. “Haven’t thought of it yet.”
ACT FIVE, SCENE THREE
In which:
AN INSANE SUGGESTION IS MADE
“WE NEED A PLAN B,” MR. KATZ ANNOUNCED THAT AFTERNOON.
“That’s what I said!” I cried.
All the primary actors, plus myself and Mr. Katz, had gathered in the auditorium seats for an emergency meeting. Andy and I and some of the other set-crew people were supposed to spend the afternoon organizing all the props and costumes and making sure everything was set for opening night on Wednesday. Instead, I had asked Andy to run the crew—which pretty much made him convulse with nervous twitches, but what else could I do—and I now sat with Mr. Katz on the edge of the stage. He had tried calling Tama’s house as well, but not even her parents or her maid were picking up. What had Tama done, moved the whole family to Florida overnight or something?
This was so unfair. I should have been home right then, buffing my nails and experimenting with eye makeup and listening to my soothing Mandy Moore CD to chill out before my date with Cameron. (Robbie would die if he knew I bought a Mandy Moore disc, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.) But no. I was here. Probably sprouting fresh stress zits with every passing moment.
“I should have cast understudies,” Mr. Katz said, shaking his head. His stubble was growing in a wild pattern along his chin, and his skin looked waxy under the lights. “Always cast understudies. Always!”
“But, Mr. Katz, you said yourself there wasn’t enough talent for understudies,” I said quietly.
“I did?” he asked, raising his head.
“Uh, can I make a suggestion?” Ashley asked, raising her hand.
“Not if it’s you playing Sandy,” I said.
Her hand fell and she grumbled under her breath as she sank lower in her seat.
“Actually, that might be our only option,” Mr. Katz said.
Ashley instantly popped up again.
“Mr. Katz—”
“Ashley knows the part. She did it in camp,” Mr. Katz said. “Can you do it if you cram tonight?” he asked her.
“I could do it right now, Mr. Katz,” Ashley said, beaming.
�
��Yeah, but who’s gonna play Rizzo?” I asked.
“Stephanie will do it,” Ashley replied, looking at Steph. “You said you wanted it, right?”
I watched my friend’s face completely crumble as her life passed before her eyes. For a moment I honestly thought she was going to faint.
“I can’t do it. I don’t know it,” she said shakily. “Maybe if I had a few weeks . . .”
“I have a suggestion!” Robbie announced, raising his hand. He was perched on the back of one of the chairs, his feet on the seat. “Why doesn’t KJ do it?”
I cracked up laughing. So did Mr. Katz. Is it wrong that I was insulted? But he was right. We both were. The very idea was ridiculous.
“KJ?” Cory snorted. “Why would KJ do it?”
“Because she knows it. She knows all the parts. Plus she’s blocked half the scenes herself,” Robbie said, getting up and strolling down the aisle. “She’s the only one who can do it.”
Why was he doing this to me? I thought we were friends. Why, why, why?
“I—”
“Can you sing, KJ?” Mr. Katz asked.
“I—”
“She can totally sing,” Steph said helpfully.
Et tu, Stephanie?
“What?” she said off my look of death. “You can.”
Yeah, and there’s a reason you’re the only one who’s ever heard me do it, I thought. Did none of my friends know me at all? Didn’t they know that if I got out on stage in front of all those people I would die?
“KJ, this would save everything,” Mr. Katz said hopefully. “Can you do it?”
“I . . .” I looked at Robbie, who just smiled back. If this was his idea of a joke, I was not amused. “Mr. Katz, I’d rather talk to Tama. See if we can get her to come back. If we start switching everyone’s parts now, this thing is going to be a disaster. Let’s just talk to Tama and—”
“Yeah, but Tama won’t talk to us,” Ashley pointed out. “We only called her four billion times.”
More like four, but whatever.
“So we’ll go over there,” I said, jumping down from the stage. “We’ll go over there and we’ll ring the bell and we’ll make her talk to us. We won’t leave until we convince her that she has to come back.”
“And what if that doesn’t work?” Ashley asked.
“It has to,” I replied firmly. “So, who’s coming with me?”
“I’ll go,” Robbie said. “I can be very persuasive.”
“Um, isn’t she kind of mad at you both right now?” Stephanie pointed out.
She had a point. But when I looked around the room at our other options, I realized we didn’t have any. Robbie and I were pretty much the only people she had ever talked to unless she was forced. What was I going to do, send Ashley over there to get water balloons tossed at her head? No. We were the best people for the job.
“We’re just going to have to make her talk to us,” I said with a shrug.
“Good,” Mr. Katz said, checking his watch as he slid down off the stage. “Call me and let me know how it goes.” He grabbed up his bag, slipped his sunglasses on and patted my shoulder as he walked out. “But just in case, KJ, you better start going over Rizzo’s lines.”
ACT FIVE, SCENE FOUR
In which:
WE STORM THE CASTLE GATES
“HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?” I WHISPERED TO ROBBIE AS WE made our way up the front walk at Tama’s house. “I can’t play Rizzo! Are you out of your mind?”
Robbie looked around, his hands in his pockets. “Why are you whispering?” he whispered.
I paused in front of the door. “I don’t know.”
He smirked at me in that annoyingly adorable way of his. Suddenly I was smiling like a goof. “This isn’t over,” I told him in full voice.
I rang the doorbell. It sounded like the gonging of the Notre Dame cathedral bell. Or what I imagined it might sound like. Very intimidating. Last week when I’d arrived, Tama had met me at the door. If I’d been standing here myself and heard that, I probably would have run. I almost felt like doing just that right now, but my fear of playing Rizzo on opening night was greater than my fear of the Gold mansion.
“Very medieval, no?” Robbie said, rocking from his toes to his heels to his toes.
“It’s kinda like it’s signaling our doom,” I said, swallowing against a dry throat.
The door swung open. Tama’s mother was even more Vogue-worthy than Tama. High cheekbones, ebony skin, big, beautiful eyes. She wore flowing white pants, a fuzzy cashmere sweater, and a confused expression.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Hi, Mrs. Gold. Is Tama here?” I asked.
“And you are?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Um, KJ Miller?” I said, gulping on intimidation. “We met the other . . . last week? Here. I was . . . here?”
“We’re friends of Tama’s from school,” Robbie said.
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry. Tama’s really not feeling well,” she said. “She can’t have any visitors.”
“What’s she got?” Robbie blurted.
She looked at him like he’d just asked her for a fifty. “Excuse me?”
“What’s she got?” Robbie asked again. “I mean, she was fine yesterday, so I’m just wondering what she caught that, you know, put her out of commission so fast.”
Wow. He was good.
“In case we have to warn the school nurse,” Robbie added. “If there’s some kind of health crisis threatening to fell the youth of Washington High, I’m sure Nurse Sarah would want to know about it.”
Mrs. Gold narrowed her eyes, and in that second she looked exactly like her daughter. “If you don’t mind, I was in the middle of something.”
Wiseass, her tone implied, but she didn’t say it. She stepped back and closed the door without another word.
“Nice woman. I think we could really have something,” Robbie joked.
“I don’t understand. We all know Tama isn’t really sick. How could she let her kid get away with something like this?” I ranted. “It’s no wonder Tama’s—”
Damn. I’d almost just said it again. Tama’s therapy was not something to be gabbing about.
“It’s no wonder Tama’s what?” Robbie said.
“Nothing.” I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. A couple of steps sideways and I could see Tama staring down at us from the front hall window.
“Tama!” I shouted, before I could rethink it.
“Tama! Come on! We just want to talk to you!” Robbie shouted.
Up above, Tama shook her head, like we were such losers, and let the curtain go.
“No! Tama!” I cried. “You can’t do this!”
“Maybe she’s coming down,” Robbie suggested hopefully.
So we waited. And waited. And finally the maid opened the door, scaring the crap out of both of us.
“Mrs. Gold kindly asks you to leave before she calls the police,” the woman said curtly.
Robbie looked at me and clapped his hands together. “So I guess we’re going.”
“No. We can’t leave,” I said, desperate. “We have to talk to her. We have to—”
“KJ, I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like getting arrested today. Tomorrow, maybe, but not today,” Robbie joked as he strolled toward my car.
“I don’t understand this,” I said, angry tears stinging my eyes. “Why is she doing this? What the hell is she trying to prove?”
“KJ, calm down,” Robbie said, putting his hand on my arm.
But I couldn’t calm down. I couldn’t. Once again someone was being a big, fat baby and I was the one who was going to have to deal with it. I was the one who was going to have to fix the mess. By going out on stage with no practice, no talent and zero desire, to play Rizzo. The tough girl. I mean, could I be playing any more against type?
“I can’t play Rizzo, Robbie. I just can’t,” I told him.
He took a deep breath and pulled me toward
my car. “You won’t have to,” he said.
Relief flooded through me. “I won’t?”
“No.” He glanced up at the house. “You heard what Leo said that night at the diner. Tama lives for drama. She loves to be the center of attention. By coming over here we totally gave her what she wants. And tomorrow she’s going to wake up and realize that if she doesn’t come to school, she’s not going to get to star in the play. She’s not going to get the spotlight on her all night, and she’s not gonna get the applause. When she realizes that, believe me, she’ll show up.”
