Act 2 (Jack & Louisa) (12 page)

“Yes, we do,” I replied simply, not knowing if I was really supposed to be answering the question. Belinda merely nodded, and tapped her red nails on the shiny ebony surface of the piano.

“It’s pretty great,” I added, still wondering why exactly she’d called me over.

“It
is
great,” Belinda continued, finally, “but now it’s almost an embarrassment of riches—there’s so
many
of them, I don’t how I’m ever going to decide who to cast in what part.”

I had butterflies in my stomach. Belinda was talking to me like I was her equal, and it was
exciting. After wondering earlier whether she’d chosen Jack as her favorite, I was now suddenly optimistic that she hadn’t forgotten me, after all.

Belinda placed a hand on my shoulder.

“If you don’t mind, Lou, I’m going to have you read with a bunch of them. I’ll have a better shot at casting them properly if there’s someone on that stage who really knows what they’re doing, you know? Someone who can bring out the talent in other people.” I was instantly flattered.
Someone who can bring out the talent in other people
felt like one of the best compliments I’d ever received.

“S-sure,” I stammered.

“Thanks, darlin’.”

Belinda flashed her signature smile, squeezed my shoulder, and gave me a little push, indicating that I should return to my seat. Kids were filing back into the auditorium. I felt a rush of excitement as I made my way up the aisle. Even though I’d only danced and read one scene, even though I hadn’t sung a note, it was looking like I had a pretty good shot at playing Adelaide! Inside I was doing cartwheels and jumping up and down, but on the outside I was simply walking toward my seat, squeezing my hands together in an effort to contain my elation.

“What were you talking to Belinda about?”

Jack was eagerly awaiting my return. Why did he still look nervous? His audition had gone just as well as mine.

“She’s gonna have me read with a bunch of the boys,” I said, “so they can read with a girl who’s had some experience, I guess.”

“Oh. That’s cool,” said Jack, though he sounded a little skeptical. As I looked at him I realized what exactly I was feeling:
satisfaction.
Yesterday Jack had been the hero, teaching the soccer boys how to dance. Today, in my way, I got to be the hero and teach the soccer boys how to
act
.

I knew I shouldn’t feel like I was competing with my best friend. But Belinda’s asking me to read with the other boys made me feel like I was just as talented as Jack. Maybe she’d ask
me
to stay behind after class one day; maybe she and
I
would get to swap stories.

Belinda’s voice once again came blasting through her bullhorn.

“Okay, everybody! We’re back! Let’s continue with Louisa Benning reading Adelaide and Martin Howe reading Nathan!”

Both Jack and I looked up, startled.

“Nathan?”
I blurted out, fortunately out of Belinda’s earshot. When she’d asked me to read with the other boys, I had naturally assumed that they would be reading other roles. After all, there were so many to be cast: Nicely Nicely, Benny Southstreet, Harry the Horse, Big Jule, just to name a few. As far as I was concerned, Jack had just set the bar impossibly high for the role of Nathan Detroit. But who was I to question Belinda’s audition methods? She was a pro. Jack was still looking concerned as I made sure my sides were in the proper order.

“Hey, no one will be as good a Nathan as you,” I assured him. “Plus Belinda worships you. You seriously have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “I hope you’re right.”

There would be time later to convince Jack that his role was safe. Right now, I needed to prove to Belinda that everything she’d said about me was true. I took a deep breath and headed toward the
stage.

-JACK-

The cast list was posted first thing Monday morning. Belinda had told us at the end of our auditions that it would be on the bulletin board outside the music room as early as eight a.m., which meant that at 8:03 a.m., I found myself hesitating in the stairwell and worrying about what I might find once I arrived in the basement. I wasn’t worried about Lou. Belinda had practically hung her name on the marquee, making her read with more than a dozen Nathans. But with only one time up at bat, would Belinda even remember me?

“Time to rip off the Band-Aid,” Lou said as we trudged down the stairs.

“Look at that!” Lou squealed as she pointed to the printed names on the yellow bulletin board. “I got Adelaide and,
phew
, you got Nathan,” she said over the sound of excited castmates. “See, I told you. I knew we had nothing to worry about.”

Lou gave me a big hug, and there it was. The stars had aligned after all. Jack and Louisa were back at it again, playing opposite each other in an exciting musical classic. Our production was sure to be the biggest ever to hit Shaker Heights Middle School. Everything was going perfectly. So why did I have a feeling it was all about to come tumbling down?

Lou clapped her hands together. “I’m going to go find Jenny and tell her our fantastic news.”

I watched as her pink Converse shoes pranced up the stairs, leaving me alone in the basement.

“Congratulations,” a woman’s voice called from behind me.

I spun around to find Belinda standing against the wall, arms crossed.

“Glad to see you took our little conversation to heart,” she said softly.

“Yeah . . . thanks,” I muttered.

I knew I should have been excited, but
underneath Belinda’s “congratulations” I sensed something threatening.

“Now, you know that I’m going to be expecting a lot from you,” she said in a firm voice. “Some would argue that Nathan Detroit is the biggest role of the show, and given your pedigree, I’m really going to need you to lead by example.”

“Of course.” I nodded.

“I’m going to be a lot harder on you than the rest of the cast, but that’s only because I know you can handle it. Think of yourself as . . .” Belinda hesitated. “The star quarterback. If I were your coach, I’d push you to your limits knowing what you’re capable of. Do you follow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, darlin’. See you in rehearsal.” She winked, nodding toward the cast list. “We’ve got a great team.”

Belinda was right about one thing—she had assembled a pretty amazing group. Sebastian Maroney had surprised us all with a rich baritone voice in his audition for Sky Masterson, singing “Luck Be a Lady” like a teenage Frank Sinatra.
Bridget Livak, a shy, mousy eighth-grader, had gotten the role of Sarah Brown. I’d sort of dismissed her when she struggled quietly through the dance call, but when she opened her mouth the following day, a beautiful high soprano rang through the auditorium. Jenny was cast as a Hot Box Girl and the lead dancer in the Havana sequence (a scene in which Sarah, having agreed to accompany Sky down to Cuba, finally lets her hair down). In a true stroke of genius, the role of Big Jule, the meanest, scariest of all the gangsters, went to Tanner Falzone. I’d have no trouble pretending to be terrified of him during the crapshooter scene in Act 2. Best of all, Lou and I would get to spend the next two months playing the great comic duo. It seemed like we’d hit the jackpot.

The first day of rehearsal we circled around the piano, separated into vocal sections. Mr. Hennessy began teaching “Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ the Boat,” the biggest production number in the show. I watched as boys flipped through their music, struggling to follow along as each section was taught a different line of harmony. As Mr. Hennessy
plunked out the soprano line, Adam, an eighth-grade soccer player who’d been cast as Harry the Horse, leaned over to me.

“Where the heck am I supposed to be looking at?” he said, pointing to the many staffs of music notes on the page. “It’s like it’s Chinese!”

“Don’t worry about sight-reading,” I whispered back. “Just make a voice memo on your phone the next time Mr. Hennessy plays your part. That way you can go home and listen to it later.”

“Jack,” Belinda’s voice shot across the theater, causing Mr. Hennessy to fumble his piano playing and the entire room to fall silent. Her voice softened. “Did you have a question, hon?”

I opened my mouth, ready to explain that I was just helping to clear something up, but suddenly remembered the conversation I’d had with her about authority just a few days ago.

“No, ma’am,” I called back. “Sorry to disturb the rehearsal.”

Belinda wasn’t joking when she said she’d be hard on me. And to be honest, I was cool with it at first. She’d obviously been in the business a long
time, and perhaps her feedback would help me down the line.

The next week we began staging. First up was the scene where Adelaide runs into Nathan the evening of their anniversary. Belinda had directed us to play the scene sitting on a rehearsal cube.

“
Look, honey—about your present
,” I said, wringing my hands.
“I was going to get you a diamond wristwatch with a gold band and two rubies on the side.”

Lou gasped. “
Nathan, you shouldn’t have
.”

“
It’s all right
,” I replied, swinging my legs and facing away from her
. “I didn’t.”

“Stop!” Belinda barked, waving her arms like a crossing guard. Lou and I peered out into the audience.

“Jack, sweetie, correct me if I’m wrong,” Belinda said calmly, “but didn’t I already explain? The cube is just a stand-in. The real park bench will have armrests on the sides, so you won’t be able to move your legs like that.”

“Oh, okay.” I swallowed.

“I’m sure it was the same when you were on
Broadway, honey,” Belinda said, chuckling to herself. “I can’t imagine you rehearsed on the set the whole time.”

I forced an uncomfortable laugh.

“I’m going to need you to really try to stay focused,” Belinda said. “I can’t keep stopping rehearsal to give you these technical notes.”

“Sure thing,” I said with a nod.

I looked over at Lou, who eyed me with slight concern, but I shrugged it off, signaling that I was fine.

“Okay, let’s take it back to Adelaide’s entrance,” Belinda called out to the room. “Oh, and, Lou,” she said, smiling broadly, “I love what you’re doing with the voice. It’s just adorable!”

Week two was under way, and even though I continued showing up prepared and ready to work, it felt like I had a giant “kick me” sign on my back. When I would try to land a joke:
“You’re playing for laughs.
On Broadway, don’t they want you to play the honesty?”
If I would enter from the wrong wing:
“Didn’t they teach you on Broadway to write down your blocking as soon as it’s given to you?”
Even if I
tried to get an early start on memorizing:
“I’d rather you hold a script than be sloppily off-book. I don’t think Abe Burrows would appreciate you fudging his dialogue.”

I knew that Belinda was going to treat me differently, that she’d be harder on me if I made mistakes, but I didn’t realize I’d be the
only
one scolded for making them. When we got to the scene where all the gangsters entered with carnations, Tanner was nowhere to be found.