That afternoon, I shared my thoughts when everyone gathered in the theater. Well . . . almost everyone. Derek was MIA, no doubt thanks to Ammo. Most of the kids nodded quietly and a few, like Anne Marie, teared up.
“I don’t want this show to focus on our differences,” I said, remembering Stefan’s words. “I want it to show how we’re all the same. We all get scared and we all fall in love and we all laugh when something’s funny.”
“Like the principal stomping on his wig,” someone piped up. Everyone laughed.
“And now that you know what this show is about, I hope you still want to be a part of it and share the message,” I said.
“Are you kidding? I’m in a starring role,” said Suresh. “I’ll share any message you want.”
Several people laughed.
“Looks like we’re still one person short,” I said at the exact moment that Derek appeared in the doorway.
He ran down the aisle, red-faced and sweating. His hair and shirt had a gray hue to them that looked suspiciously like dust.
“Sorry . . . I’m late,” he huffed. “What . . . did I . . . miss?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” I said with a frown. “Right now, we’ve got a table read to start.”
NINE
I DON’T KNOW WHAT I EXPECTED from my first table read, but I was pretty sure ours was like none other . . . unless others included an argument about chickens, a bloody nose, and an arm-wrestling competition.
After my speech, everyone gathered on stage and stared in my direction expectantly. I glanced behind me, wondering who they were waiting for until I realized it was me.
“Oh!” I said. “Right. We don’t have an official director, do we? Okay, so welcome to our first table reading,” I said. “Minus the table.”
Some kids laughed, and Holly the peppy girl, bounced up and down, fingers flexing above her head.
“Sunny! Sunny! Sunny!” she chirped.
“Yes, Holly,” I said in my calmest voice, hoping she’d follow my example.
She didn’t.
With an excited squeal she bounced forward. “For the start of the show, the munchkins sing. Do we get to?” She crouched with hands on knees, anxious for either my answer or the bathroom.
“Of course,” I said. “I kept a few musical numbers.” It dawned on me that I hadn’t heard most of these kids sing. “But . . . uh . . . for now, let’s just speak the lyrics.”
“Awww,” everyone moaned.
I should have let them sing. Fifteen people reciting song lyrics sounded like bored chanting. If we’d been wearing brown robes, we could have passed for monks.
Thankfully after a few verses, our narrator, Tim, was up. He had a compelling voice, but his pale skin and wide-eyed stare were a creepy combination. During auditions, one of his lines had been “I stole her heart,” and with that unblinking gaze, I didn’t doubt there was a shoebox of human organs under his bed.
As soon as he started narrating, Tim’s eyes fixed on Cole, who was sitting across from him. After a couple minutes, Cole shifted uncomfortably and stared at the floor.
“That was good, Tim,” I said. “Except maybe tone down the intensity.”
“But I’ve got to lure the audience in,” he said, regarding me with wide eyes.
“No.” I resisted the urge to shudder. “No luring. You’re not going to eat them. Just . . . blink more and stare less.”
He looked at me and nodded, rubbing his eyes.
Then it was my turn to speak. My heart beat a little faster and the cheery voice I gave Galinda matched exactly what I was feeling. I got through about two lines before Suresh raised his hand.
“How are you going to fly down in a bubble?” he asked. “We can’t afford that kind of soap.”
A few people groaned.
“It wasn’t a real bubble in the show,” said Anne Marie. “It was a round cage.”
“We could make one in metal shop,” said Derek. “But it won’t be strong enough for a person. Maybe a chicken.”
“How does that help?” asked Bree. “Sunny doesn’t look like a chicken.”
“She might if we put a wig and a dress on it . . .”
“Guys.” I halted them with a hand. “We’ll worry about getting me on stage later. Let’s just read.” I continued with my lines, adding emotion to the song lyrics I spoke, hoping to inspire the others. But as soon as the chorus came up, the munchkins returned to their chanting. I tried to not rip my ears off as I waited for my next line.
The rest of the first scene went quickly, and thankfully, the second scene was mainly dialogue. At the end, however, Wendy got a little too exuberant and swung her arms wide.
“Owww!” said Suresh. He’d been sitting next to her but was now standing with his hands clutching his nose. A trickle of blood ran from his cupped hands down his arm.
Janice fished a Kleenex from her purse. “Use this tissue,” she said, spraying saliva on it with every word.
Suresh eyed it warily. “Do I have to?”
Janice blushed but offered him a fresh one.
“Sorry, Suresh,” said Wendy as he dabbed at his nose. “I got a bit carried away.”
“Let me know if there are any more risky scenes,” he said through pinched nostrils. “Like if you have a high kick later.”
Wendy looked at her lap, and I put a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Anne Marie, let’s start our duet.”
She nodded and our rapid back-and-forth in “What Is This Feeling?” was accompanied by the giggling of everyone around us. When the other students joined in for the chorus, this time it sounded less like chanting as they got into the scene.
Everything flowed smoothly until Bree’s character admitted her attraction to Derek’s character.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said Suresh, waving his bloody tissue to a chorus of “Ew!”
“My girlfriend is not falling in love with anyone but me,” he said.
Bree snatched the tissue away and shot him a warning look. “It’s just a play, Suresh.”
“I don’t care. This guy isn’t going anywhere near you.” He gave Derek a disdainful sniff.
“Fine,” I said. “Derek, do you want to switch parts with Suresh and take the lead role?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said Suresh. “Let’s not get crazy. I was just making a comment.” He pointed a finger at Derek. “But you better watch it, dude.”
Derek just laughed. “You really want a piece of me?”
“Oooh,” said the group.
Suresh got up and headed for the edge of the stage.
“Oh, come on!” I smacked the floor with my script.
“Suresh, don’t leave!” called Bree. “He’s just trying to make you mad.”
“I’m not leaving,” said Suresh, hopping off the stage. “I’m going to put him in his place.” He pointed at Derek. “Come here so I can do that.”
I cleared my throat and gave Derek a warning glance.
He smirked at Suresh. “I’m not fighting you. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Suresh rolled up his right sleeve and set his elbow on the stage. “Come on. Arm wrestle me.”
“Do it!” shouted Max.
Derek sighed and got up. “Fine. But so you know, I have no interest in your girlfriend.” He locked his hand around Suresh’s and knocked Suresh’s arm backward in one motion. “There, you lost.”
Suresh glanced from his fallen arm to Derek. “Best two out of three.”
Everyone groaned, and Bree walked to the edge of the stage, frowning down at Suresh.
“Never mind,” he said, climbing back onstage.
When Galinda and Elphaba arrived at the Emerald City, I called an end to rehearsal and reminded everyone to study their lines so we could finish the read-through the next afternoon.
“I also think we should write letters to our characters,” I said.
It was an exercise from one of my acting books on getting into character, and I thought it w
as a brilliant idea.
But true genius is never appreciated in its own time.
“Homework?” whined Max. “The Mary Pops In cast doesn’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, and I’m playing three different people,” said Janice. “I don’t want to write that many letters.”
“Then just pick one,” I said. “We really need to work hard if we want to impress on opening night.” Especially with an agent in the audience, I added to myself.
The others mumbled their agreement and left the auditorium, but I asked Derek to stay and talk with me.
Hanging his head like he’d been sent to the principal, he hopped off the stage and sat in the front row.
“I said I was sorry for being late,” he began before I’d even spoken.
“It’s okay if you had a good reason,” I said and clasped my hands in front of me. “But what were you doing that made you late?”
“Stuff,” he said.
“Could you be more specific?”
“Things,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Things with your brother?” I asked. “Things like climbing into vents with cans of tuna?” I pointed at the dust on one of his shoulders.
“Oh,” he said. “You meant that specific.”
I sighed. “Derek, you said you’d stop making trouble if you were in my show.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And have I brought it to the show?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “but if you get caught, it looks bad on me because I’m vouching for you.”
Derek leaned back and crossed his arms. “Sunny, I pulled one little prank with my brother. If we get in trouble, he’ll take the fall.”
“Every time?” I pressed.
He groaned and stared at the ceiling. “This isn’t an everyday thing. My brother just gets creative ideas and needs my help making them happen.”
“His ideas aren’t creative,” I said. “They’re destructive . . . and they make girls smell fishy so that boys won’t date them.” I clutched my hair to me protectively.
Derek frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
The Mary Pops In cast was starting to straggle into the theater, so I shook my head.
“Just . . . stay out of trouble until this show is over. Please?”
Derek threw his hands in the air. “Sure. Whatever. Can I go?”
“Yes,” I said with a scowl. “Don’t forget to practice your lines.”
Derek gave me a sarcastic salute and marched up the aisle.
“And write the letter to your character!” I called after him.
“Fine!” he shouted back.
Chase passed Derek and glanced back curiously.
“You’ve upset the school bully,” he said with a smirk.
I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “He’ll pull the wings off some butterflies and be fine.” I peeked through my fingers at Chase. “What’s up with your clothes?”
He was decked out in baseball gear, cleats and all.
“I just came from practice,” he said. “Why? Do I look weird?”
He actually looked cute, but that wasn’t something you told your best friend.
“No,” I said. “The people of London are going to be confused, though.” I nodded at the Mary Pops In cast.
“I’ll tell them it’s my cricket uniform,” he said with an exaggerated wink.
I smiled and bumped his shoulder with my fist. “Have fun tonight.”
“I will,” he said. His cheeks colored, and he ran a hand over his hair. “Hey, I had a question.”
I gave him a worried look. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just . . .” He cleared his throat. “My dad gave me tomorrow night off from baseball, and we don’t have show practice.”
“Good!” I said with a smile. “You deserve a break.”
He nodded and turned even redder. “If you want, we can go out and do something or whatever.”
Go out?
I took a step back.
Chase and I had hung out plenty. Going out implied an entirely different wardrobe, diligent breath freshening, and kissing practice. Not that I was opposed to it, but—
“So?” he asked. “Do you want to hang out?”
My thoughts screeched to a halt.
Which one did he mean? Go out or hang out?
Aloud, I said, “Sounds great!” Then, hoping to get a better read on things, I added, “Where are we going on this . . . uh . . . outing?”
If he said the mall, we were hanging as friends. If he said a restaurant, we were going on a date.
“There’s a new restaurant at the mall,” he said. “I thought we could try it.”
“That doesn’t help me!” I blurted.
Chase’s eyes widened.
“I mean . . . that doesn’t help me decide what to wear,” I said. “What are you going to wear?”
If he said jeans, we were hanging out. If he said khakis . . .
“Jeans or khakis,” he said.
I wanted to punch him.
Instead, I smiled and said, “What time?”
“Six?”
“Perfect,” I said. I decided to make one more effort. “How much money should I bring for dinner?”
If he made me pay, it was a friend thing. If he paid, it was a date.
“My dad actually has a coupon for a free meal there,” said Chase.
I bowed my head in exasperation.
“Awww.” He clucked his tongue and squeezed my shoulder. “Getting tired?”
I looked at him. “Incredibly so.”
Before I was tempted to knock the answer out of him with a baseball bat, I said good-bye to Chase and hurried toward the exit. Ilana was waiting just outside. In the world’s tiniest attempt to make amends, I gave her a passing nod.
“That rehearsal was a joke,” she said to my back.
I paused and turned around. “It was a table reading,” I replied. “And you were spying on us?”
Ilana leaned against a chair. “No, I was showing the finance advisor from the STARS program around, and we popped in to see the theater.” She leaned closer. “If I were you, I’d shape up.”
I pressed my lips together. “Or what?” I asked.
She smiled at me. “I think you’ve got bigger worries,” she said. “Like where to find a car big enough for all your clowns.”
With so many people around, she knew she could get away with that, and I knew it too. I stormed out without a word, not even noticing the guy jogging beside me until he stuttered my name.
“S-Sunny?”
I yelped in surprise, and he raised both hands.
“Sorry! I—I just wanted to talk.” It was Cole, the guy I’d cast as the Wizard of Oz.
I put a hand to my chest and smiled. “It’s okay. You just startled me. What’s up?”
His eyes dropped to the ground. “About mmme as the wizard. I don’t . . . I don’t think I’m the right guy.”
“What?” I frowned. “Why?”
Cole’s eyes shifted to the ceiling. “It’s too m-much talking. E-everyone’s gonna laugh.” He blinked a couple times. “You should—you should pick someone e-else.”
“Uh . . . no,” I said.
Cole glanced down at me in surprise. “What?”
I took his arm and pulled him over to a bench. “You wanted a speaking role to help with your stutter,” I reminded him.
“I wanted a smmmall speaking role.” He held up his script. “Look at all m-my lines! Like—like—like this part.”
Cole then proceeded to read several lines of dialogue in a row. Almost flawlessly.
I beamed at him. “Cole, that was great!”
He chanced a small smile. “Yeah, well, m-my stutter’s nnnot as bad when I—when I read or sing.”
I held my arms out. “Then it’s perfect that you’re in a musical!”
“M-maybe,” he said.
“Cole, if you mess up a couple lines, who cares?” I asked. “At least you’re onstage. A lot
of kids aren’t even brave enough to get that far.”
Cole sat up a little taller. “Yeah.”
“Besides.” I leaned closer. “Who’s to say the Wizard of Oz didn’t have a stutter?”
Cole grinned and got to his feet, offering me a hand up. “M-Miss Director,” he said with a slight bow.
I laughed. “I’m not the director. Just an actress.”
But as we said our good-byes, his comment made me think. Without a director, would the show make any progress?
I brought it up with my parents at dinner . . . though I had to word things carefully.
“Can a show be successful without a director?” I asked.
My parents glanced at each other.
“What happened to Ms. Elliott?” asked Mom.
“Did she flutter off with those fairy wings you told us about?” asked Dad with a smile.
I grinned at him. “No, Ms. Elliott’s around. But she’s taking a hands-off approach to the show. And I don’t know if I’m . . . uh . . . we’re . . . up to the task of running everything.”
“I’m sure you’re all capable,” said Mom, spooning vegetables on my plate. “You’ve seen and been in enough productions to know what goes on.”
“You just have to apply the knowledge,” added Dad.
“What if there’s fighting?” I asked.
Mom and Dad both laughed.
“It’s theater, honey. There’s always fighting,” said Dad. “You just have to work through your differences.”
“But we don’t have time to arm wrestle every day,” I said.
Dad gave me a quizzical look. “What?”
“Don’t worry,” Mom told me. “Someone always steps up and takes charge. They may not want to, but they do it because it has to be done.”
She brushed her hands together as if it were as simple as that.
But of course, nothing ever is.
TEN
BEFORE I COULD EVEN REACH my locker Friday morning, Holly bounded over on invisible springs.
“Sunny! Sunny! Sunny! Ms. Elliott wants you ASAP!”
Warning bells went off in my head. “She does? Why?”
Holly shrugged. “She just asked me to tell you.”
I nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
She flashed me a thumbs-up and continued to stand there, doing lunges while she watched me.
D Is for Drama Page 7
