D Is for Drama

by Jo Whittemore

  There was no way Bree would let this happen. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed her, but there was no answer. I tried Suresh with the same result.

  “Why don’t you ask the Mary Pops In cast for your part back?” asked Max. “Then you can be in a good show.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said.” I looked from him to Tim to Janice. “I was just upset. I love this show too much to watch it fail.” Tears pricked at my eyes, and Janice’s started watering too.

  “We looked up to you,” she said.

  “And you still can,” I promised. “I’ll take care of our budget problem. That’ll show how much I believe in us!”

  “I wouldn’t count on it!” Max shouted after me.

  But I was already out the door, calling Chase.

  “Hey, Sunny! What’s up?” he answered the phone.

  I glanced over my shoulder nervously.

  “I may have done a terrible, terrible thing,” I whispered.

  Chase got quiet.

  “If I hang up now, how much jail time do I avoid?” he asked.

  “It’s nothing criminal!” I said, rolling my eyes. “I told Stefan how terrible everyone in my show was and that I’d lied about hooking people up with an agent. And some kids from the show overheard.”

  Chase whistled through his teeth. “You were better off committing a crime.”

  “That’s why I’m calling the politician’s son to help me out of this mess,” I said. “Can you meet me somewhere?”

  “How about in a couple hours?” he asked. “I’m still at rehearsal.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Then a thought occurred to me.

  Chase was at rehearsal.

  “Wait,” I said. “Are you back in Mary Pops In?”

  I could hear him grinning through the phone. “Ms. Elliott convinced my dad I had to be in the show as part of my grade. It was Ilana’s idea. Awesome, right?”

  I’d given away my entire savings . . . money I could have put toward the show . . . on a secret plan to get Chase back into acting. And in one fell swoop, Ilana, Queen of the Life Ruiners, had beaten me to it.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Since I’d already done plenty of the second, I just smiled and said, “That’s great, Chase.”

  “Yeah. Although my dad refuses to go,” he said. “Ilana said she’d talk to him for me.”

  I rolled my eyes again. “If anyone can save the day, it’s her,” I said.

  “She’s the best,” Chase agreed. “I mean, she has time to worry about me, even with all the stuff going on in her life.”

  I snorted. “What stuff? The play she wormed her way into?”

  “Uh . . . no,” said Chase in an odd voice. “Her mom got laid off after she broke her arm, remember?”

  I lifted the phone from my ear and stared at it in confusion. “Laid off?” I repeated. “Broken arm?”

  “Yeah, from the car accident. I thought you knew,” said Chase. “She and her mom are strapped for cash.”

  I stopped in my tracks.

  That was why Ilana had been pushing makeovers so hard. That was why she’d taken money from Chase for her notes. And that was probably why she was being so crazy about Mary Pops In.

  “Sunny?” said Chase. “Oak tree in two hours?”

  “Sure,” I said. “And congrats on getting the part. Again.”

  Chase laughed. “Thanks. Bye, Sunny.”

  Grandma’s car was in the driveway when I got home, and I hurried up the steps, trying to think of a secret way I could tell her about the afternoon and Ilana.

  As I walked into the living room, I smelled jasmine tea and saw her and Mom sitting on the couch. They glanced up, and I waved.

  “Hi, Mom! Hi, Grandma!”

  “Hi, Sunny,” said Mom, taking a sip of tea. “How was Wicked rehearsal?”

  SIXTEEN

  I STOOD FROZEN TO THE SPOT. My eyes darted to Grandma.

  “Don’t look to her for help,” said Mom, calmly adding cream to her tea. “She’s the one who told me.”

  “Grandma!” I groaned.

  Grandma shrugged apologetically. “Her truth kimchi must be stronger than mine.”

  I turned to Mom. “Okay, no, I’m not in the official school musical, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. But I had a good reason!”

  Mom patted the couch cushion beside her. “Sit, Sunny. Your grandmother already told me.”

  I sat and waited for whatever punishment came with lying about a show. No auditioning for future ones?

  Mom seemed to be reading my mind. “I’m tempted to keep you out of this show for lying to us.”

  “I’m not in a show anymore,” I told her, staring at the carpet.

  Grandma made an indignant noise and sat up straight. “Ms. Elliott didn’t approve? After all that hard work?”

  “She approved it,” I said. “I’m just not in it.”

  For a moment, Mom forgot she was upset. “But it was your show.”

  “Not after I insulted the cast and lied to them about an agent,” I said in a quiet voice.

  “Sunny!” Mom and Grandma scolded at the same time.

  “I know!” I buried my face in my hands. “I messed everything up. With everyone.”

  Mom sighed and patted my back. “You didn’t mess everything up. It just hurts me that you felt you needed to hide the truth.”

  I peeked through my fingers at her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Would we have been happy if you got a lead role in Mary Pops In?” Mom continued. “Absolutely. Would we have been devastated if you didn’t? Of course not.”

  “You wouldn’t have been upset,” I scoffed. “You. My actress mother. Who’s trying to get me an agent.”

  “There will always be other shows, Sunny,” said Mom with a casual wave of her hand. “If you don’t get into this one, you get into the next.”

  “But you were so proud when you thought I was in,” I said. “And you seemed a lot happier to have me as your daughter.”

  “Happier?” Mom clucked her tongue and held open her arms, gesturing me to her. I leaned over and snuggled against her shoulder.

  “I was happier because it was something we could share,” she said, kissing the top of my head. “Every year, you get older and every year we talk less, because your father and I aren’t ‘cool.’”

  “That’s not true.” I twisted around to look up at her. “Why do you think I want to be like you when I grow up?”

  Mom smiled and pinched my nose. “I don’t want you to be like me,” she said. “I want you to be like you. Okay?”

  I sat up and hugged her. “Okay.”

  “As far as punishment,” she said, and I winced. “Two weeks of being grounded is fair, don’t you agree?”

  I perked up. “Only two weeks? Really?” I scooted back and narrowed my eyes. “What’s the catch?”

  Mom laughed. “No catch. Your show has helped quite a few kids from what your grandmother says.”

  Grandma leaned forward. “It’s true. They all look up to you.”

  Her words reminded me of Janice’s, and I immediately slumped on the couch.

  “Yeah, they did look up to me,” I said. “I was a pretty good director . . . up until the end.”

  Mom’s eyebrows shot up. “You were directing and acting?”

  She sounded impressed, and I couldn’t help grinning.

  “A little bit,” I said.

  “Well, I need more details,” said Mom, lifting the teapot to pour me a cup. Only a few drops rolled out. “And we need more tea.”

  Grandma hoisted herself off the couch. “I’ll get it,” she said, and I started filling Mom in.

  I told her about the crazy auditions and the crazier kids, and she laughed. I told her about all the things we’d been through, individually and as a group, and she hugged me. When I told her about Ilana and the budget crunch, though, she held up a hand and left the room.

  “Where’s she going?” I
asked Grandma, who had rejoined us on the couch.

  “I think this is what they call sending for reinforcements,” said Grandma.

  “No, it’s called killing two birds with one stone.” Mom reappeared with a phone by her ear. “We’re going to get you back into that show and take care of your wardrobe problem. How many kids are in your show?” she asked.

  I wrinkled my forehead. “Uh . . . fifteen, including me. Why?”

  “Fifteen,” Mom said into the phone. There was a pause. “Wicked. Anything from Wizard of Oz should work too.” Pause. “Carnegie Arts Academy, Monday afternoon.” Mom listened intently and then thanked whoever was on the other line before ending the call.

  Grandma and I watched her expectantly.

  “On Monday afternoon a van from Disguise the Limit will be at your school,” said Mom. “They’re a costume company, and they’ll be bringing clothes that might fit your show.”

  My teacup slipped through my fingers, and I barely caught it before it hit my lap. “Are you serious?!” I squealed.

  Mom smiled. “Anything to help my daughter.”

  I put down my teacup and bounced across the room. “Thank you so so so much!” I squeezed Mom around the middle.

  “You’re welcome,” she said with a laugh.

  Dad stepped through the doorway and paused to watch us. “What’s going on here?” he asked with an amused grin.

  “I’m helping Sunny get costumes for her show,” said Mom.

  Dad tilted his head to one side. “I thought the school took care of everything for Mary Pops In.”

  I met Mom’s eyes, and we laughed.

  “It does,” I said. “But I’ve got a funny story for you, Dad.”

  ON MONDAY MORNING, I staggered into school under the weight of a box bearing fourteen gifts. It would’ve been easier to unload them if all the Melodramatics had been in one place, but I hadn’t been able to reach anyone besides Bree all weekend. She, thankfully, had forgiven me, but I still had a ton of apologies to issue.

  The first person I spotted was Max, and when he saw me almost drop the box, he instinctively reached out to help.

  “Thanks,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”

  Max put the box on the ground and stared at me.

  “This whole show was your dream, Sunny,” he said with a frown . . . and an oddly quiet voice. “I was really proud of everything we did. But if you can’t believe in the show, how can we?”

  “You’re right,” I said, reaching into the box. “You’ve all worked really hard, which is why this is for you.”

  I held out a small trophy filled with candy and a note card. Max examined the engraving on the trophy.

  “Best actress?” he asked in his usual loud voice.

  “Whoops!” I blushed and handed him a different one. “Here. Best actor.”

  Max smiled despite himself. “And what’s this?”

  He opened the card and read it aloud.

  “‘I’ve been wicked and I know it. But I’m sorry; let me show it. Be at Blakely this afternoon for a wardrobe extravaganza.’”

  Max raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  I shrugged. “I guess you won’t find out unless you show up.”

  He grinned and nodded. “All right. I’ll be there.”

  I smiled and picked up my box to find the next person, my load already a little lighter.

  That afternoon, all fourteen Melodramatics met me in the theater with mixed emotions on their faces. Some, like Bree and Max, looked open-minded. Others, like Suresh and Janice, were stony-faced.

  I paced in front of them, going over the speech Chase had helped me work out in my mind.

  “On Friday,” I said, “I did something stupid. I let all the little problems we’ve been having get to me.” I stared at my hands. “And I said some really horrible things.”

  Nobody spoke.

  “Usually, there’s a whole support team to handle issues, but since it’s just me, it’s a little harder.” I opened my arms. “We’ve only been doing this for two weeks. I can’t expect us to be brilliant. It takes time and practice.”

  Several people muttered their agreement.

  “But,” I held up a finger, “we also have to be willing to put in the time and practice. Theater is hard work, and in the real world, some actors are on set fourteen hours a day. I’m just asking for a couple hours a day.”

  “And weekends,” someone in the back added.

  Beside me, Bree’s face darkened, and she glared at the crowd.

  “Hey!” she barked. In the front row, Suresh’s eyes widened. “It’s only for six weeks!”

  People gaped at her, awestruck. She cleared her throat and in her usual, quiet voice added, “If you can’t handle that, you’re in the wrong business.”

  I grinned. “What she said.”

  From the center of the crowd, a hand went up to a chorus of “Ow!”

  “Yes, Wendy,” I said.

  “What about the agent?” she asked.

  I sighed. “That was a bad way to try and motivate you, and I’m sorry I lied. But my mom doesn’t see why the agent can’t keep an open mind about everyone.”

  The group buzzed excitedly.

  And then there was a different buzzing. From the theater loading dock.

  “I think the costumes are here,” I said.

  People cheered, and I couldn’t help asking, “So can you forgive me?”

  “Yes!” they chorused.

  I smiled. “Then let’s see what we’ve got.”

  We hustled as a group to the loading dock door, and Derek and Cole lifted it open. A yellow van with Disguise the Limit emblazoned on the side was parked with its back end facing the theater.

  “This is so exciting!” chirped Holly. “Like Christmas and my birthday and Columbus Day all at once!”

  “You celebrate Columbus Day?” asked Suresh.

  The driver of the costume van sauntered over.

  “Sunny Kim?” he asked.

  “Yes! That’s me!” I waved my hand and hurried forward.

  He held out a clipboard. “Sign for delivery, please.”

  I did so, and the driver handed me a copy.

  “Where do you want me to leave the racks?” he asked, unfolding a ramp at the back of the van.

  “Leave them?” I asked. “We don’t choose the outfits right now?”

  The driver snorted. “You think I’m waiting around for a theater cast to pick costumes? I’ve seen how stage divas can get.”

  I laughed. “We’re not divas. If anything—”

  “Suspenders were my idea! Nobody else can wear them!” Suresh told Max and Cole.

  I cleared my throat and smiled at the driver. “Maybe just leave the racks here.”

  He nodded. “You got it.”

  I walked over to Suresh and punched him in the arm.

  “Ow! You’re back in the show for two minutes, and already you’re violent?” he asked.

  “Quit acting like a diva!” I said. “You can’t claim sole ownership of suspenders.”

  Suresh frowned, rubbing his arm. “But how will people tell us apart?” He glanced at Cole and Max.

  Cole and Max glanced at me.

  “Should we let him know he’s Indian, or do you want to?” Max asked.

  Just in time, the driver rolled out the first clothing rack, and it was stuffed with costumes.

  Everyone oohed and aahed.

  “Look at all the dresses!” marveled Bree, sifting through one side.

  “Sunny, you are forgiven,” said Wendy.

  The driver arrived with a second rack. “And one for the fellas,” he said.

  “Nice!” I fished out a shirt and vest. “This’ll be perfect for the school scenes.”

  “Uh . . . Sunny?” Derek walked around the side of the rack, holding a pair of pants. “I know we’re supposed to be Munchkins, but . . . ” He held the pants up to his waist. The bottom cuffs dragged several feet on the ground.

  “Wow,” I said.
“You really need a growth spurt to kick in.”

  Derek frowned at me.

  “I’m kidding,” I said. “These look like adult costumes. The driver must—” I turned toward the van, but it was already zooming across the parking lot on its way out.

  “Huh.” I chewed my lip. “He probably had a costume emergency come up.”

  “Sure,” said Derek. “Someone shrank their ballgown in the dryer.” He gave me a withering look.

  I patted his arm reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s just get these inside so we can try some on.”

  A few of the guys wheeled in the racks, and we gathered on stage to see what we had to work with.

  “Let’s start with the guys,” I said.

  There was a lot of commotion as shirts and pants were pulled from the rack.

  “If you take something and don’t want it, put it on the floor!” I shouted.

  After about fifteen minutes, there was a huge pile of discarded clothes on the stage, but each guy had at least the top part of his ensemble. The trousers were a different story.

  “They’re all too long!” said Derek.

  “Do you guys have any nice pants of your own you can wear?” I asked.

  There were a few nods mixed in with a chorus of no’s.

  “If you have them, wear them,” I said. “The rest of you are going to have to make do with these,” I said. “Or take what’s in the wardrobe room.”

  The guys didn’t look thrilled by either prospect.

  I grabbed the pair of pants Derek had chosen and studied the hem. “I think I have an idea how to fix this. Be right back. Girls, start choosing your costumes.”

  I hopped off the stage and ran into the art supply room, stealing one of their heavy-duty staplers. When I came back, the girls were still choosing and the guys were doing their best to help.

  “How about this one?” Max held a dress out to Janice.

  “For the school scene?” she asked. “No.”

  When she’d started talking, Max had thrown his arms up to protect his face. But as she spoke, he lowered them, wide-eyed.

  “Hey, you didn’t spit at all!” he cried.

  Janice grinned, revealing straight, white teeth. “I finally got my braces off today. Thanks for noticing.”

  “Wow,” whispered Max. “Nice teeth.”

  Janice blushed.

  Max glanced down at the dress he was holding. “So why not this?”