by Lisa Fiedler
Because the clubhouse theater really had become exactly that: our home.
Odysseus would understand, I thought, rolling over in bed to see 6:45 a.m. displayed on my alarm clock. After all, that was what The Odyssey was all about—someone finding his way home.
I slipped out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt, and stepped into my sneakers. Then I tiptoed downstairs. Quietly, I opened the door, crept outside, and walked briskly toward the clubhouse. The sky was misty lilac, with a ribbon of deep pink along the treetops. I saw a few neighbors out for an early morning stroll and Mr. Davenport walking the family dog, a cocker spaniel named Patches.
I also saw Mackenzie Fleisch, which shocked me. She was dressed in a pair of running shorts and a baggy T-shirt, jogging along at a pretty good clip. Even her running was graceful. When she saw me, she stopped to catch her breath.
“Anya! I didn’t know you were a runner.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d walk over to have a look at the theater.”
Kenzie smiled. “Well, I’m just about ready for my cooldown. I’ll come with you.”
She fell into step beside me. “Do you run every day?” I asked, trying to imagine rolling out of bed on a summer morning to sprint around the neighborhood. Don’t get me wrong… . I like exercise as much as the next girl, but I prefer to do it after the sun comes up. Especially during summer vacation, when sleeping in is practically mandatory for middle schoolers.
“Not usually,” Kenzie replied. “But my mom was worried I might have put on a pound or two, so she thought I should get ahead of it. You know … more exercise, fewer carbohydrates.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to this. Mackenzie was as slender and fit as she’d always been as far as I could tell. If she’d gained a pound, I sure couldn’t see it.
As we walked on, something occurred to me. “Hey, Kenz, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I know you’ve been dancing, like, forever, and you plan to become a professional ballerina someday, but … do you actually like it?” I shrugged. “I mean, do you love it?”
Mackenzie looked at me as if I’d just asked her if she believed the world was round. Then she laughed. “Nobody’s really ever asked me that before,” she admitted. “But yeah, of course I do.”
I smiled. “I kind of figured,” I said. “I guess I just wanted to be sure.”
Mackenzie shrugged. “I mean, I don’t always love the long drives into the city, or how snippy and competitive some of the other dancers can be. And I can really do without the sore muscles and bloody toes. But I’m really good at it. And it’s fun to be good at something.”
“Right,” I said.
When we reached the clubhouse theater, I wasn’t surprised to see the entire lawn was cordoned off with yellow caution tape. Even at this early hour there was a crew of workers on hand. I could see they’d set up a huge pump and were using it to siphon the water out of our basement. Men in neon-orange reflective vests were examining the storm drains; parts of the asphalt of Random Farms Circle had been torn up to give the engineers access to the broken pipe beneath the street.
It was a pretty gloomy scene.
Mr. Healy, who was talking to a man in a yellow hard hat on the front steps of the clubhouse, caught sight of me and waved. Then he gave me a shrug as though to say he still wasn’t sure about the repair timeline.
I supposed a shrug was better than a negative shake of the head. A shrug meant there was still hope. So I waved back, and Kenzie and I left.
At the corner we went off in separate directions, saying we’d see each other at my house at ten. We both knew we’d rather be seeing each other at the clubhouse, but there was nothing to be done about that.
I had only taken a few steps when I heard Mackenzie call out, “Anya?”
I turned back. “Yes?”
“Do you think I’ve put on weight?”
I gave her what Mr. Healy hadn’t given me: a definitive head shake. “No,” I said firmly. “Not even an ounce.”
Even in the pale morning light I could see how grateful she was to hear it.
The fact of the matter was that if anyone was carrying around some extra weight, it was me. Not physically, but emotionally. Thanks to the water-main disaster and the almost-lie I’d told my parents, I was beginning to feel as if the entire weight of the world were on my shoulders.
With a sigh, I headed home to get ready for the day.
By 10:05, Susan had assembled the cast in our basement. From the top of the steps, I could already hear the joyful buzz of friendly conversations wafting up from below. My grandparents stopped me just as I was about to make my way down. They looked concerned.
“Anya, dear,” Nana began, “Papa and I weren’t expecting you to have so much company at one time. Isn’t seventeen children an awful lot for a playdate?”
I gave her a nervous laugh. “Well, um, you see, Nana, it’s not a playdate. It’s the auditions for my theater. We’re doing a second show, but the clubhouse is out of commission.”
Papa’s face lit up with pride. “You’re doing another production! That’s wonderful. You know, I’ve been a zealous theater fan since I saw Liza Minnelli make her debut at the Shubert Theater in New Haven, Connecticut, when I was just a young man.”
“They know that, Harold,” said Nana patiently. “You’ve told them the story a million times.” She turned a worried look to Susan and me. “What’s wrong with your clubhouse?”
I gave my grandparents a quick rundown on the water-main problem, and Mr. Healy’s orders to keep out for the time being. “We’ll be moving back to the clubhouse as soon as it’s all repaired,” I assured them. “And I promise we won’t cause any trouble while we’re here.”
Before they could ask the obvious question—did you clear this with your parents?— I opened the cellar door. Susan dashed down the stairs, and I was hot on her heels.
When I reached the bottom step, the first person I spotted was Mackenzie, already stretching her dance muscles by using the back of an old dining room chair as a makeshift ballet barre. Sophia was admiring herself in my mom’s antique cheval mirror (big surprise), blocking Gracie’s view as she tried to pull her long black hair into a high ponytail. Susan was showing Maxie the bath mats and the other potential costumes and props we’d found while Deon handed out scripts that Jane, Elle, Spencer, Madeline, Teddy, and Travis were rifling through excitedly.
I was thrilled to see a handful of newcomers as well. These included three kids from my class at Chappaqua Middle School, who’d introduced themselves to Austin and me at the pool. They were Nora Standish, Brady Greenberg, and Joey Garcia. Joey had brought along his acoustic guitar, and he and Austin were hunkered down in the far corner, plinking out chords.
Another new recruit was Gina Mancuso, who would be going into sixth grade with Susan this year. Her dad was a well-known local builder, and everyone knew Gina had every intention of following in his footsteps. Rumor was last summer she and her three older sisters had built themselves a two-story tree house with real working windows and a spiral staircase. I looked at her eager smile and could think of only one thing: master set designer.
Brittany Simpson was another of Susan’s besties from Chappaqua Elementary. She had the reputation of being the best artist in the entire school. Visions of stunningly painted backdrops danced in my head, and I was sure Brittany and Gina would make a great team.
My arrival brought the happy chatter to an immediate hush as seventeen pairs of eyes (make that sixteen—Sophia continued to gaze adoringly at her own reflection in the mirror) turned to me.
“Hello, Random Farms!”
I was greeted with shouts of “Hi, Anya,” and “Good morning, Madam Director,” which made me smile.
Susan handed me an updated roster, to which she’d added the names and ages of our new cast members.
Just holding the list gave me a thrilling sense of possibility. So much talent!
“Let’s get started,” I announced. “Time for auditions!”
Just as we’d done with the auditions for the first show, the plan was for everyone to perform both a song and a dance combination today, and then memorize an acting piece to perform tomorrow.
CAST/CREW ROSTER: NAMES, AGES, ETC.
Mackenzie Fleisch: Twelve; Dancer
Deon Becker: Twelve; Tech genius
Sam Carpenter (baseball conflict)
Maxie Hernandez: Eleven; Costumer
Mia Kim (family vacation)
Travis Coleman: Ten; Dancer
Eddie Kim (see above)
Gracie Demetrius: Ten
Elle Tanner: Ten
Madeline Walinski: Eleven; Gum chewer
Jane Bailey: Eleven
Teddy Crawford: Eleven; Professional actor
Spencer O’Day: Eleven
Sophia Ciancio: Twelve; Approach with caution
Nora Standish: Twelve
Brady Greenberg: Twelve
Joey García: Twelve; Musician
Gina Mancuso: Eleven; Set design
Brittany Simpson: Twelve; Scenery
After reading The Odd-yssey script, I was superexcited to see how my actors would interpret the various characters. For example, would Teddy read for the Cyclops in full-on comedy mode? If Spencer auditioned for the one-eyed monster, perhaps he might choose to play him more frightening. Maybe Gracie would decide to perform the goddess Athena monologue as a ditzy airhead, whereas Jane might give the lines a more sober, classical spin. To me, this was what made theater so fascinating—actors making interesting choices and bringing their own creative sparks to every role.
For the first show, Austin had preselected audition sides, but today we were going to be a little daring and allow the actors to choose their own scenes.
I explained this to the cast. “Pick anything you like, from anywhere in the script, as long as it’s at least a minute long. Girls can read boys’ parts and vice versa. Feel free to add accents or quirks to your characters. If there’s a role you think you’re suited for, that’s the dialogue you should read.”
Sophia, who had finally pulled her attention away from her own face in the mirror, snatched up a script and flipped through the pages. “I can’t decide if I want to read for Penelope or Athena. Penelope is such a romantic beauty, and the goddess is … well, a goddess. So I’m perfect for both.”
Susan rolled her eyes. But before she could make a comment about goats, I hurried on.
“In addition to the dialogue, we’re going to have you sing and also perform a dance combination.”
“Mind if we watch?” came a deep voice from behind me.
I turned to see Papa and Nana standing at the bottom of the staircase. They both looked nervous.
“Um … everyone, start looking through the scripts,” I said, then quickly went to join my grandparents. “What’s wrong?”
Papa glanced over his shoulder at Nana, who gave him a worried look. Then he leaned toward me and whispered, “Hate to be a party pooper, sweetheart, but your grandmother is a bit concerned that … well, what with you youngsters being all alone down here, unchaperoned. You aren’t planning a little game of … Spin the Bottle, are you?”
“What?” I was sure my cheeks had turned flaming red. Had Papa Harold just uttered the phrase Spin the Bottle? What planet was this? What universe was I in?
I shook my head hard and blurted, “No! Of course not!”
Papa patted my hand. “Good. As I say, I don’t like to be a party pooper.”
“There’s no party to be pooped,” I assured him. “This is an audition.”
Papa looked at me closely, then nodded. “All right, then. We trust you, dear.”
With that, they turned and headed back up the stairs. Just before the door closed, Nana’s cheerful voice floated down to us. “Remember, children, there’s a powder room in the front hall, in case anyone has to make.”
Make?!
Seriously?
SERIOUSLY?
To my cast’s credit, everyone managed to keep from cracking up. When I heard the basement door close, I let out a sigh of relief.
“Back to business,” said Austin. “Everybody, take a few minutes to pick out your audition pieces. Then you can pair up with a scene partner if you need to.”
“Last time we pulled names out of a hat to choose partners,” Elle reminded him. “Should we do that again?”
Austin thought about it. “I think you can all partner up without a name draw,” he said.
As our returning cast broke up into pairs and began searching their scripts, Austin turned to Joey, Nora, and Brady.
“Joey, are you planning on auditioning for an acting role, or are you strictly music?”
“I’m just here for the music this time,” said Joey. “But maybe for the next show, I’ll give acting a whirl.”
“Well, I want to try everything,” said Nora, beaming eagerly.
“I’m up for anything, too,” said Brady, laughing. “I’ve never done any acting or singing or dancing before. Well, not in public anyway. But at home, in front of the mirror, I’m a star.”
“I totally get that,” said Sophia, giving him a flirty smile.
Again, Susan rolled her eyes.
I smiled and posed a similar question to Gina and Brittany. “I know you guys have major skills in art and building, but were you thinking about performing, too?”
Brittany raised her hand. “I’m a pretty good dancer. I could be in a musical number, but only if you need me. And I’d rather not have to say any lines. Mostly, I’d like to work on set design. Maybe help Maxie with the costumes.”
The second she’d said, “I’d rather not have to say any lines,” I felt a tingle shoot up my spine, and it immediately became my goal to get Brittany to want to say a line. Even just a single word! Because that had been one of the most gratifying rewards of the first show … seeing kids like Eddie Kim (who’d panicked at the thought of dancing) get up onstage and surprise himself with what he was able to do. I’d love to see the same thing happen with Brittany. I wouldn’t push it, of course, but if the opportunity presented itself, I’d jump on it. I liked the idea of coaxing Brittany into taking a chance and having fun with acting.
“How about you, Gina?” I asked.
Gina shrugged. “Thanks, but I’m definitely a behind-the-scenes kind of girl, if that’s okay.”
“Perfectly okay,” I said, waving Deon over. “D can tell you a little bit about the stage at the clubhouse theater, and you guys can look at the list of set suggestions that came with the play kit.”
“Are there any suggestions about power tools?” Gina asked, her eyes shining. “I really like working with power tools.”
“Me too,” Deon said, and laughed. “This is gonna be fun!”
I left them to their task and turned my attention back to Austin, who was showing The Odd-yssey sheet music to Joey, Nora, and Brady. The way things had worked out—with Gina and Brittany interested in being part of the stage crew and Joey opting for a spot in our “orchestra”—Nora and Brady would be the only new kids auditioning.
Since we didn’t have a piano in the basement, I asked Joey if he’d mind accompanying the singers on his guitar.
“I’m kind of a beginner,” he warned with a grin, “but I’ll give it my best shot.”
“That’s all I ask,” I said.
Then I invited Kenzie to kick things off by teaching everyone the audition dance routine. “Something simple,” I advised. “Maybe a little portion of one we used in Random Acts. I know it’ll take time away from memorizing your lines, so how about if you go last in the acting audition? This way you’ll have a little longer to study.”
“I’m cool with that,” Mackenzie agreed, giving a cheerful nod.
I smiled because this felt like really good producing to me. During auditions for the first show, I probably would have been flustered by so many things going
on at once. This time, though, I felt calm and well ahead of the curve.
For the next few minutes things at Random Farms were theatrically blissful. Kids were sitting cross-legged on top of the Ping-Pong table or flopped into our old beanbag chairs, silently reading their lines. Austin was helping Joey with the sheet music supplied by Drama-o-Rama, and Kenzie was breaking down a dance combination for Nora and Brady to perform. From where I stood, they seemed to be picking it up without much trouble.
And then …
I heard Nana’s footsteps on the stairs.
I felt my heart drop to my toes. I had a horrifying image of her appearing with a dainty embroidered handkerchief, offering to wipe everyone’s noses!
But when she reached the bottom of stairs, I saw this was much worse than a hanky situation. Nana was holding a laundry basket filled with dirty clothes.
Was she nuts?
I bolted across the basement to where my grandmother was preparing to toss clothes into the washing machine.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice rising with panic.
“I’m doing laundry, dear.”
Well, I could see that. The problem was that she was doing laundry … during auditions. And what was even worse was that she was doing a load of whites, which didn’t just mean sheets and towels. Whites meant underwear. OMG! What if she accidentally dropped a pair of my days-of-the-week undies in the middle of the floor for everyone to see?
“Nana!” I gasped. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”
She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Anya, your mother’s list of instructions clearly said Saturday is laundry day.”
“But we’re rehearsing!”
“Yes, I see.” She smiled and tossed one of my dad’s undershirts into the machine, followed by a few pairs of Susan’s tennis socks. “That boy on the guitar appears to be a natural.”
She really wasn’t getting this. “Nana, I love you, but could you please leave? Now. I’m sorry,” I added quickly. “I don’t mean to be fresh. But I’m pretty sure Marianne Elliot never had to deal with her nana doing laundry while she was auditioning actors.”
“Who is Marianne Elliott, dear? Is she in your class at school?”
“No, she’s a major theatrical director. She directed War Horse on Broadway… .” I shook my head. “But that’s not the point. Nana, can you please wait until after auditions to finish the laundry?”
