D Is for Drama (18 page)

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
ooh
ed and
aah
ed.

“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?”

“For one thing, it's an evening gown,” she said.

“But it would look nice on you,” he said.

Janice blushed. “I'll save it for the dance number.”

I put a hand on Anne Marie's shoulder. “You know what you're looking for, right?”

She nodded and smirked. “Blah blah black.”

Wendy, who was playing the headmistress, had already put on a costume and was trying in vain to raise her arms above her head.

“I can barely move,” she said.

“Perfect!” someone called.

“Not nice!” I called back. I smiled at Wendy. “But . . . yeah, I think that works.”

“Sunny!” Derek was standing by the guy's clothes, holding out the pair of pants.

“Right!” I waved my stapler. “Hold them still.”

Bree came forward to watch. “Why don't we use the budget money to get the pants tailored?” she asked.

I shook my head. “We'll probably need it for all kinds of last-minute stuff.”

“But—”

“Bree, relax,” I said. “I've got everything under control.”

I punched in staples all along the bottom of the trousers. While I worked, Anne Marie wandered over.

“All this green reminds me,” she said, “I need to have green skin.”

I squinted thoughtfully. “I think there should be a makeup kit in the wardrobe room,” I said.

Bree made a disgusted face. “Couldn't we just buy some new stuff?”

“From where?” I asked. “Halloween's been over for months. Besides, we need the money for other things.”

“Like scenery?” asked Anne Marie, glancing around.

I snapped my fingers. “Exactly! I need to order some scenery. Bree, show Anne Marie where the makeup in the wardrobe room is.”

Bree sighed and walked off with Anne Marie in tow.

I put the final staple in Derek's trousers and held them up.

“There!” I said. “Perfect.”

“Yeah,” said Derek, “as long as I don't go through any metal detectors.”

I rolled my eyes. “Go try them on, please?”

Derek hurried offstage and I moved on to see who else I could help. After a few minutes, I heard Bree calling my name.

“Sunny, I think Anne Marie's allergic to the makeup.” Bree pulled her onstage. Anne Marie's face was green and swollen to twice its size, her frightened eyes peeking out.

“Augh!” everyone screamed.

“Sunny, I'm not fat enough for these.” Derek trotted onstage, holding his pants up by the waist. When he saw Anne Marie, his hands flew up to cover his mouth.

Then his pants fell off.

“Augh!” everyone screamed again.

I sighed. “I am
so
glad this happened after Ms. Elliott's visit.”

“And I think I know what we're spending our budget on,” said Bree, rubbing Anne Marie's shoulder.

I glanced at her. “A trip to the emergency room?”

She nodded. “I'll get the nurse.”

SEVENTEEN

T
HERE'S NOTHING QUITE LIKE EXPLAINING
to an ambulance driver that a girl's green skin is perfectly normal. Or explaining to a crowd of
Mary Pops In
actors that they won't catch “puffy gangrene.”

At least I'd made up with the Melodramatics and gotten everyone their costumes, even if they didn't fit properly. And when I saw Ilana watching us from across the theater, I decided it was time to take care of something else.

“We need to talk,” I told her.

Ilana crossed her arms. “Why? So you can yell and threaten to hurt me?”

I shook my head. “No yelling. No threats. If I say I'm
going to hurt you, I really will. I promise.” I tried for a smile, and after a hesitant moment, Ilana tried too.

“All right,” she said, stepping closer. “Where should we go? The control booth?”

I shook my head. “It probably still smells like farts.”

Ilana wrinkled her forehead. “Huh?”

“Never mind,” I said. “How about the wardrobe room? I need costumes from there anyway.”

A guilty look washed over Ilana's face.

“Sure,” she said, leading the way.

“Chase told me about your mom,” I said as we walked. “Is she okay? Other than the arm, I mean.”

Ilana nodded. “The car's a mess, though. The trunk won't open, and we had to tape plastic over one of the back windows.” She got quiet. “It's really embarrassing.”

I wasn't sure how to respond. The one time my dad had been in a car accident, he'd had the car fixed that week and rented a nice one while he waited.

“That must suck,” I finally said, and opened the door to the wardrobe room.

It didn't smell as bad as I'd imagined. Like mothballs and plastic from all the synthetic costumes. I pulled out a pair of colonial-style breeches, and with it came a huge spider.

“
Augh!
” Ilana and I both screamed. I stomped on the spider, but Ilana took the pants and hurled them across the room.

“Hey, I'm gonna need those!” I protested. “We just got our budget cut.”

Ilana blushed. “Sorry.”

“About throwing the pants?” I asked, retrieving them. “Or telling Ms. Elliott to cut our budget?”

Ilana didn't answer.

“At least tell me this,” I said. “Why are you so bent on bringing me down?”

She shook her head. “I'm not. This was never about you. I just really need this show to go perfectly.”

“Ugh! You keep—!” I stopped when I realized I was yelling. “Sorry. You keep saying that. Why?”

Ilana sighed. “Because I can't go to the STARS program unless it does.”

I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. “You've already been accepted.”

Ilana shook her head again. “It's not the admission. It's . . . the tuition.” She dropped down to the floor. “I don't have the money to get in, but if the STARS people find out, they'll give my spot to someone else.”

I sat on the floor beside her. “So why have them in the audience at all?”

“They offer an award,” she said, “to a certain number of kids they think are outstanding in their field . . . acting, directing, music, or dance. And with the award, they give free tuition.”

Now all the pieces were starting to fit together. Ilana needed to be in the best play as the best actress so she could win the STARS award. But
nobody
could know how badly she needed the money or she'd be out of the program.

“Wow,” I said. “
That
is a lot of pressure.”

She snorted. “You're telling me.”

I gave her a pained look. “But did it have to come at my expense? Or anyone else's?”

Ilana held out her hands, palms up. “I don't have another option.
You
can afford coaches and your parents are connected. This is just a school play to you, but it means everything to me.” Ilana stared at her lap.

As twisted as her logic was, I couldn't be entirely mad at her anymore. I also couldn't let her keep ruining things for me.

But I
could
let her make my show even better.