by Krista McGee
“But this is so silly.” Ma glanced over Kara’s shoulders.
“I love silly!” Kara said. “And I want to show the casting directors I can play a character that’s very different from who I am. You know, show that I’m versatile. This is a variety show. I’m thinking of maybe using a southern accent. What do you think?”
“Southern? You can do southern?”
“Why sure I can,” Kara drawled, a perfect southern belle. “I just spent two months in Tennessee. I listened to those folks down there. I practiced talkin’ like them. What do you think?”
Ma clapped. “I think you’re perfect.”
“Thanks, Ma.” Kara looked at the script again. “But there’s more than that. I need to be upset at the beginning. But I don’t want to overdo it. The comedy is in making it believable. I need to really look like I’m upset. But I can’t look too upset because it’s a comedy.”
“This is all very confusing.” Ma waved her hands.
“Just keep reading the other lines.”
“But I can’t do the accent and the crying.”
“That’s all right, Ma. I’ll do the acting. I just need to practice hearing the lines before mine so I know my cues.”
“This is a lot of pressure, Kara. Maybe your father shoulda come.”
Kara pulled the agent’s card from her pocket. “I could always call Ms. Sanders.”
Ma snatched the card from Kara’s hand and threw it in her purse. “Fine. I’ll read.”
After reading through the script several times, Kara felt prepared. She had been able to memorize her lines and perfect her accent.
“Number 414?” a man with a bullhorn announced, stepping out from behind a metal door at the back of the large room. “Number 414. You’re up.”
Kara hugged her mother and walked toward the door. Look out, folks. Kara McKormick is in the house!
Conjunction Malfunction
(AND is standing by herself. BUT enters, crying.)
BUT: Why do I even bother?
AND: (Overly cheerful) Good morning. Beautiful day.
BUT: No.
AND: What?
BUT: (Crosses to stage left) No, it’s not a beautiful day. It’s never a beautiful day. Sometimes it starts out as a beautiful day, but . . .
AND: (Follows BUT) But what?
BUT: That’s me. I’m BUT. My job is to ruin people’s days.
AND: I don’t understand.
BUT: (Still crying) Of course you don’t. I know you. You’re AND. Everybody loves you. You make people happy. It’s a beautiful day AND the sun is shining. Her boyfriend gave her flowers AND candy.
AND: Let’s go the store AND get some new clothes. You’re right. I do make people happy. But . . .
BUT: Exactly.
AND: I didn’t even finish my sentence.
BUT: You didn’t have to. It always ends with something negative. I’d like to go shopping, BUT I can’t. I’d like to go out with you, BUT you’re too ugly. I’d like to give you an A on the math test, BUT you missed every question. People hear my name and they cringe. I’m like a disease. (Sits)
AND: I never thought of it that way.
BUT: Of course you didn’t. You’re AND. People hear your name and they get excited. They know they’re getting more.
AND: That’s true. People do love me. You know, just this morning, a man used me to tell his kids they were going to Disney World AND on a cruise.
BUT: Do you know what I was used for this morning? “I just graded your final exam. I’m sorry, BUT you got an F.”
AND: That’s terrible.
BUT: I know.
AND: Don’t you ever get to say anything nice?
BUT: No.
AND: Wow. That must be terrible.
BUT: Thanks.
AND: No, really. I’d hate that. To be hated and dreaded. How awful.
BUT: (Stands) What did you just say?
AND: I said I’d hate that.
BUT: After that.
AND: To be hated and dreaded. How awful.
BUT: (Grabs AND’s shoulders) You said “and.”
AND: So?
BUT: It was bad. To be hated AND dreaded. You made it worse by using “and.”
AND: (Crosses to stage right) Wait, no—I make people happy.
BUT: (Follows AND) AND sad.
AND: But—
BUT: Yes!
AND: What?
BUT: You were about to use me for something positive.
AND: What?
BUT: I said you make people sad, and you said “but.” BUT I also make people happy. You failed the test, BUT I can give you extra credit. I wanted to break up with you, BUT I couldn’t because I love you too much.
AND: AND you are my soul mate AND you complete me . . .
BUT: AND you have bad breath, AND this test is worth half your grade, AND you’ll never be able to play basketball again, AND—
AND: (Screams) Stop it! Stop it! You made your point. (AND cries) Why do I even bother? I’m leaving.
BUT: Good-bye, then. (AND leaves) It really is a beautiful day.
Chapter 4
Sit down and tell me all about it.” Pop motioned for Kara to join him at the table. “Ruthie, got some more of those meatballs? I could use a second helping.”
“Pop.” Kara watched as her mother spooned several meatballs onto her father’s plate. “You know the doctor said you need to be careful with your cholesterol. Why don’t you have some salad? Or some fruit? We picked up a huge watermelon today at the market.”
“Let me see. Watermelon or meatballs?” Pop scratched his head. “I think I’ll take meatballs.”
“And your cholesterol?”
“I’ll have the watermelon for dessert,” Pop said. “Then it’ll all be even.”
“All right, Pop. Whatever you say.”
“That’s more like it. Now, tell me about the auditions.”
“They were long.” Ma sat down with her plate of pasta.
“That, I know,” Pop said. “You two didn’t come in until, what, midnight?”
“We didn’t pull out of that studio until ten o’clock,” Ma said. “And even then, the traffic coming back into Long Island was awful. I hate driving in the city.”
Kara leaned forward. “I told you I’d drive, Ma.”
“You were asleep before we even crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.” She shook a plump finger in Kara’s direction.
“I would have stayed awake if you’d let me drive.” Kara smiled.
“All right, ladies. The auditions?”
“They were so fun, Pop.” Kara stood up from the table. “I got to read a script with another girl. There were so many girls there. I was able to memorize all my lines before my turn came.”
“I think I had the whole thing memorized too.” Ma laughed. “The And and the But and the crying. It was all pretty silly. But our Kara was great. She even cried real tears. Real tears, Ralph.”
“I thought this was a comedy show,” Pop said between bites of meatballs.
“It is.” Kara sat back down. “The crying was supposed to be funny.”
“It was too,” Ma said. “Kara stuffed her whole sleeve with tissues, and she kept pulling them out and blowing her nose, then throwing them behind her.”
“The directors were even laughing, and you know they saw that same skit dozens of times.”
“Of course they liked it.” Pop patted Kara’s head. “You’re the best actress in the world.”
“She really is, Ralph. I had lotsa those agents coming up, wanting Kara.” Ma said the word agent like it was a communicable disease.
“I don’t see what the problem is, Ruthie. We got a girl with loads of talent—she should have someone helping her. What do we know about show business? Nuttin’. I know how to teach math and you know how to make meatballs. So why not get some help from someone who knows this stuff?”
“Thank you, Pop.” Kara hugged her father. “See, Ma? ”
Her mother grabbed her pl
ate and slammed it into the sink. “I know more than meatballs, Ralph McKormick. I know agents want to make money off talented little girls, and I won’t let them get their paws on my Kara.”
“All right, Ruthie.” Pop joined his wife at the sink, hands on her hips. “There’s no better mama in the world than you. If you think Kara doesn’t need an agent, then Kara doesn’t need an agent.”
“Thank you.” She accepted his embrace.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Kara asked, her heart sinking.
Pop shot Kara a sly grin. “You want to go against your mother’s wishes? Break her fragile little heart?”
Kara opened her mouth to answer right as the phone rang. “I’ll get that. Hello?”
“Kara, it’s Addy. I wanted to find out how the auditions went. Is this a good time?”
“Perfect.” Kara walked into her room and shut the door. “They were amazing. I think the directors liked me.”
“So, how soon until you’re in Florida?”
“Awhile,” Kara said. “I’ll find out this week if I made callbacks, but I don’t know how long after that until they make the decision.”
“They would be crazy not to pick you, Kara.”
“Crazy in show business is not uncommon.”
Addy laughed. “True. Maybe I should rephrase. You are so incredibly talented that the directors will have no choice but to pick you.”
Her laugh made Kara smile. “Yes, much better. Go on.”
“Seriously, Kara, don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”
She looked around her room. Pictures of her in various school and community theater productions filled her shelves. Reminders of how much she loved acting and how desperately she wanted to get this part. “Oh, Addy. I wish you were here. I’m so nervous. You always make me feel calm.”
“I wish I could be there too. Not even for you. I just want some more of your mom’s sweet rolls.”
“Thanks, Addy.” Kara threw herself down on her bed. “I feel so loved. Come on, we’re talking about me here.”
“Forgive me for interrupting.” Addy laughed again.
“I really would like you to come up if I make callbacks. Ma won’t let me get an agent, and there’s no way she’s going to want to go to another audition with me.”
“Actually, Jonathon invited me to the White House for a few days,” Addy said. “Uncle Mike said it was fine for me to go. But I’m nervous about going there alone.”
“You’re nervous about seeing a boy who is head over heels in love with you?”
“Kara,” Addy groaned.
“Oh, don’t get all ‘but we’re just friends’ on me. I watched this romance from the beginning, remember?”
“I am not having this conversation.”
“You don’t need to.” Kara rolled over to her stomach. “Because we both know it’s true. Besides, he invited you to the White House. I’d like to think Jonathon and I are friends too. But I didn’t get an invite.”
“You know how much it scares me to be around a lot of people, and the White House is crawling with people.” Addy made a squeaking sound, and Kara could hear her clap. “I have a great idea. How about if I ask Uncle Mike if I could come to New York first? That way I could come with you to the auditions?”
“Keep talking.”
“And then you ask your parents if you could come to the White House with me? You could be like my conversational bodyguard.”
Kara laughed loudly into the phone. “I love it. Conversing with White House staff so you can have time with Jonathon. It’s a deal. I just need to make sure Ma and Pop are okay with it.”
“All right, then. I’ll check with Uncle Mike about coming up to New York.”
“But I don’t even know if I’ll make callbacks yet.”
“You’ll make it.”
Kara pressed the End button on her phone. “I hope you’re right, Addy.”
Chapter 5
Dude!” Chad’s longtime friend Will Payne threw a basketball at Chad’s chest. “It’s been awhile.”
“Yeah, well, you know.” Chad dribbled a few times before taking a shot from the free throw line. The ball hit the rim and bounced backward. “My schedule.”
“Good thing you’ve got a career in music.” Will’s shot went right through the hoop. “’Cause you’re sure losing your touch in basketball, dude.”
“Just need to warm up.” Chad bounced the ball out of Will’s reach and ran for a layup.
Will grabbed the ball as it, once again, bounced off the rim. “Let me know when you’re warmed up, then, all right? ”
“Game on.” Chad got in front of Will and took control of the ball. After thirty minutes of one-on-one, the game was tied.
“Time.” Chad put his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “I need some water.”
“But we’re tied up.” Will held the ball on his hip. “Come on, man. Tiebreaker shot. Then we’ll head in.”
Chad straightened. “I don’t know. I’m tired.”
“What are they doing to you?” Will tossed the ball into the air. “You’re turning into a—”
Chad jumped up, grabbed the ball in midair, dribbled over to the hoop, and tossed it in.
“Hey.” Will caught the ball Chad threw at him. “What was that?”
“That was me winning.” Chad grinned.
“No way does that count. I demand a rematch.”
Chad walked up the steps to his friend’s house. “After we get some water.”
The boys sat at the table just as Beth, Will’s nine-year-old sister, walked in. “Hi, Chad.” She sat at the table, head in her hands, and stared at Chad.
“Give me a break.” Will splashed water on Beth’s face. “This is Chad. You spit up on him when you were three months old. Stop looking at him like that.”
Beth grabbed a napkin and wiped her face, tears welling up in her eyes. “Will, that was mean.” She ran off and Chad watched the door from the kitchen swinging in her wake.
“I’m sorry,” Will said.
“No, it’s all right.”
“I know you want things to be normal when you’re home.”
“I’m starting to realize that I have to adjust to a new normal.”
“A new normal, huh?” Will walked to the pantry and pulled out a bag of potato chips. “That’s pretty deep.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Dude, the highlight of my days is when I beat my little brother in Wii baseball.” Will sat down and dug into the chips. “So, no, I do not know what you mean.”
Chad laughed.
“So what’s next for you? Shooting a commercial with a model? Going to Hawaii for a concert?”
“Not even close.” Chad poured some chips onto a paper plate. “Driving up the East Coast in the RV.”
“Normal kid stuff, huh?”
“Yep.” Chad nodded. “Although I do get to stay at the White House for a couple days.”
“Oh, just that.” Will wiped his hands on his shirt.
“I’m going to hang out with Jonathon before he starts college.”
Jonathon Jackson, the president’s son, and Chad had become friends the year before. After Chad won America’s Next Star, he had been thrown into the spotlight. Because of his age and his looks, he had often been put together with Disney’s teen girl stars. At the time, Jonathon had been dating Disney star Janie Smart. While that relationship didn’t last, Chad’s and Jonathon’s did. They talked often and got together whenever their mutual schedules permitted.
“That’s part of your new normal?”
Chad could hear an edge of jealousy to his friend’s voice. He couldn’t blame him. Will was a great friend, but Chad imagined it would be hard on anyone to watch someone he’d known from childhood become famous. At least Will still treats me the same. Many of Chad’s friends had changed since he had become famous. They either treated him like he was from a different planet or constantly asked him for things. Like the phone numbers of some of the girls he�
�d worked with.
“All right, superstar.” Will stood from the table. “You owe me a rematch.”
The boys played for another twenty minutes, until Flora’s shrill voice interrupted the game.
“There you are. Playtime’s over, Chadster. You’ve got schoolwork to do.”
“Aw, Flora.” Chad threw the ball to Will. “I’m the only kid in central Florida doing schoolwork in June.”
“That’s a bit of hyperbolic rhetoric,” Flora said. “And what have I taught you about that?”
“Big words too?” Chad laughed. “This really isn’t fair.”
Along with assisting his parents with their personal business, Flora had helped educate Chad. Both his parents were involved in his homeschooling. But where their expertise waned, Flora took over. English was her specialty. Literature was her passion.
“Hyperbole, from the Greek, means ‘exaggeration.’” Flora wrapped her thin arm around Chad’s and pulled him back toward the house. The fact that she was a full foot shorter than her student didn’t bother her in the least. “And to say that you were the only young man in central Florida having to engage in schoolwork is a grand hyperbole. Will has summer reading for his school, don’t you, young man?”
“Thanks for reminding me. See ya, Chad.” Will waved good-bye and walked inside.
“But he doesn’t have to read Pride and Prejudice.” Chad looked down at Flora, a wide grin on his face.
“Do not speak unflatteringly of Jane,” Flora said, walking beside Chad. “She is the greatest writer to have ever lived.”
