by Jeff Moberg
I gave her the ‘told you so’ raised eyebrows look. Then I explained to her all about the play, Anne, the fact that Luke would most likely play Peter, the kiss, the competition, and finally, how incredibly important it was for me to be Anne in the Haywood Middle School production of “The Diary of Anne Frank”. Mom seemed impressed that I was so motivated to be involved in this new, creative endeavor. Then she asked me a question that I didn’t know how to answer. “So… I thought you said you were still mad at Luke… and I thought you also said that you and Luke were over for ever and ever and all of eternity and a million years after that. So… if all of that is true… why do you care if someone else kisses Luke in the play?”
She had me there. “Well…” I began, trying to come up with an equally smarmy answer to her obviously smarmy question. “I am still mad at Luke… and we are over for ever and ever and all of eternity and a billion years after that. And it’s not that I want to kiss him… it’s just that I don’t want any of those other girls to kiss him… especially you know who”. Mom knew who. But she was smiling that ‘Sure, honey… I believe you… NOT!’ smile.
“Plus,” I said as a final exclamation point to my side of the argument. “I’ve decided that I want to be an actress when I grow up!”
Mom held back from commenting on the growing up part, and 15 minutes later, I was at the Haywood Public Library, up to my elbows in information about World War Two, the Holocaust, and my new best friend, Anne Frank. The more I read about World War Two, and especially the Holocaust and the concentration camps, the more truly horrified I was at what had happened. And the more I read about Anne (I read her diary and the entire play), the more I admired her spirit and positive outlook on life. I spent the entire weekend—Friday night, all day Saturday, Saturday night, and all day Sunday—researching, studying, and preparing.
And the next Monday afternoon, even though I was tired and worn out and exhausted, I was ready when I stepped onto the cafeteria stage (our stage was actually in the cafeteria of our school) at 3:00 to audition. Most of the girls read for several different parts. Claudia read for Mrs. Frank and Mrs. Van Daan. Norma B read for Margot and Miep. And Mabel Mulligan read for Mrs. Frank, Mrs. Van Daan, and Miep. But only two girls read for Anne more than once.
Me.
And, yes of course, you guessed it, Janet J.
We both read with Henry Hathaway (as Peter). And we both read with Herman Smellnick (as Peter also--I wasn’t sure that I wanted my BFK—Big First Kiss—to be with Henry or Herman). And then we both read with Luke (as Peter). And then we read again with Luke. And again. Scene after scene after scene. Luke was good. Really good. He was confident and comfortable and believable.
And then, suddenly it was 5:00 and Mr. Spinoza was saying, “Thank you everyone for coming to the audition today! Thank you for your time and effort and hard work. All of you did very well. And all of you are very talented! The cast list will be posted on my door first thing tomorrow morning.”
And thus began the longest night of my life. It was longer than Christmas Eve or the night before my birthday. I knew that I had done everything I could have possibly done to get the role of Anne. I was prepared, and focused, and confident (sort of—for me anyway), and I could tell that Mr. Spinoza had noticed my hard work and effort. But I also noticed that Janet J was pretty good when I watched her read with Luke. And she seemed more like Anne’s type. She didn’t have my goofy red hair or freckles.
I had two nightmares that night:
1.I was watching Janet J kiss Luke at the end of the play.
2.I was kissing Herman Smellnick at the end of the play.
I wasn’t quite sure which one bothered me more. Probably
number one.
The next morning, after practically zero sleep, I was too nervous to eat breakfast. And I hardly said a word as Mom drove me to school. She knew I had worked hard, but she didn’t want me to get my hopes up too much. “Good luck, honey,” she said when she dropped me off in front of the school. “And remember, any role you get will be wonderful.” I smiled weakly and nodded—but I didn’t believe it. Only one role would be wonderful. Anything else would be a huge disappointment—and a huge potential problem.
As I walked down the hall, an amazing thing started happening. People were smiling at me. A girl from the chess club said, “Congratulations!” Herman Smellnick raised his hand for a high five and said, “Way to go, Dude! I mean, Dude-ette!” And Mabel Mulligan just walked right up to me and gave me a big, linebacker hug. I wasn’t quite sure what all of this meant. I could be a good sign—maybe that I just got a part. Or it could be a great sign—maybe that I got the part. There was a small crowd in front of Mr. Spinoza’s classroom door, and they magically parted as I came walking up. They were all smiling. Especially Luke.
I could hardly bear to look. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Be brave, I thought to myself. Then I looked at the list. The top part read:
“The Diary of Anne Frank”
Cast List
Then I looked at the next two names. They were together—next to each other:
Anne Frank—Norma L
Before I could even react, I quickly looked down the list for the next two important names:
Peter Van Daan—Luke Krattenmucker
I breathed a huge sigh of relief and then all at once everyone was patting me on the back and saying ‘Congratulations!’ and ‘Good job!’ and ‘Way to go!’ Then the bell rang and I heard Mr. Spinoza saying, “All right, people. Let’s go. We have lots to do today!”
Before I went in, I had to see one last set of names. Right under Anne was:
Mr. Frank—Herman Smellnick
And right under Mr. Frank was:
Mrs. Frank—Janet Janikowski
OMG, I thought as I couldn’t help smiling to myself. I get to kiss Luke—and Janet J is my mom!
38
Pretending to be Anne—Being Normal L
The first thing I did, the first minute of our first rehearsal, was walk right up to Mr. Spinoza and say a deep down, heartfelt, and very much relieved thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for casting me as Anne--and not letting that 13-year-old barracuda with perfect teeth and shiny blond hair (AKA Janet J) get her clutches on a certain Peter Van Daan (AKA Luke Krattenmucker).
Mr. Spinoza looked up from his script of the play and smiled. “No need to thank me,” he said matter-of-factly. “You earned it.”
I smiled back. He might have been right--I had worked incredibly hard to get the role of Anne. I studied and read and did research and practiced (mostly to my guinea pig, Pickles)—and then I studied some more and read some more and did some more research and practiced some more (Pickles was a good captive audience).
Rehearsal would be for the next six weeks—every day after school—from 3:00 to 5:00. Most of the kids in the play were able to do their homework when they weren’t up on stage. And most of the kids just had a few lines to learn. Unfortunately, I didn’t have either of those luxuries. Since I was playing Anne Frank in “The Diary of Anne Frank”, I was on stage practically all the time—so I had very little time to do homework—and, oh yeah, I had roughly somewhere between a bazillion and a gajillion lines to learn—make that memorize.
During the next six weeks, my mother was a saint—actually, a savior. She would practice lines with me every night. And she played every part—Mr. Frank, Mrs. Frank, Mr. Van Daan, Mrs. Van Daan, Peter, Dussel, Mr. Kraler, Margot, and Miep. The only character she didn’t play, was Peter’s cat, Mouchi. So I practiced and practiced and practiced—and I memorized and memorized and memorized. I didn’t want to let Mr. Spinoza down for taking a chance on casting me, and most of all; I didn’t want to let Anne down. Somehow, I had this odd feeling that Anne was looking down on our rehearsals--watching me play her. I felt like I knew her and I wanted to honor her. I wanted to make her smile.
Although rehearsing
the play could be tiring and difficult at times, I thoroughly—and I do mean thoroughly--enjoyed watching Janet J play my cranky, frustrated mother. And Janet J was perfect for the part. She was always cranky and frustrated now. In the play, she was supposed to be very frustrated with her daughter Anne (Me!). And frustrated she was—but not with her daughter Anne in the play—she was frustrated with her rival Norma L (Me again!) who got the part she was dying to get! Mr. Spinoza just thought Janet J was a great actress. “Good job, Miss Janikowski,” he would say after she had a scene with me. “That’s perfect! You’re playing the part just right! Keep being cranky and frustrated!” Then Janet J would smile weakly at Mr. Spinoza--and glare not so weakly at me.
And I loved every minute of it.
