D Is for Drama (9 page)

I felt like I should be taking notes. I'd never been through an entire show because extras weren't brought in until a week before opening night.

“And then?” I asked.

“And then Monday you take the stage,” said Stefan.

THE NEXT MORNING
I tracked down the cast members and handed them copies of the script with their parts highlighted. As each person saw their copy I got to share in their excitement, which was fun . . . at first.

“We're doing
Wicked
?” Wendy threw her arms open. “Brilliant!”

“Awesome!” shouted Max.

“Perfect!” said Anne Marie when I found her at lunch.

By the time I reached Derek, who was stirring pudding with a fish stick, the thrill had worn off.

“Here.” I thrust the script at him. “We're doing
Wicked
. And before you say anything, I already know it's brilliant, awesome, perfect, great, and neato mosquito.”

Derek glanced at the script. “You forgot one,” he said.
“It's also . . . wicked.” He raised an eyebrow and I couldn't help smiling.

“We're having our table read in Blakely this afternoon,” I said. “Right after school.”

“I'll be there,” said Derek, shoving the fish stick in his mouth so he could flip through the script.

Ammo, who had been sitting beside him, frowned. “I thought you and I were gonna put open cans of tuna in the air ducts after school,” he told his brother.

“You can't do that on your own?” I asked. “Or . . . not at all?”

“Mind your own business,” said Ammo, pointing at me. Then, to Derek, “I need you to hoist me into the ceiling.”

“I can do it
before
the table reading,” said Derek. “But I can't get you back down. You'll be stuck there.”

“At least you'll be at the
top
of the class,” I joked.

Ammo used his fingers to pull his eyes into tight Asian slants. “Aw haw haw! You funny!” he said.

I stared at him, too shocked for a comeback.

“Stop it,” Derek said, knocking Ammo's hands down. To me, he said, “Sorry. I'll see you at the reading.”

I nodded and turned away as quickly as I could to hide the warmth spreading in my cheeks.

The fact that people noticed I was Asian wasn't news to
me. As far back as kindergarten, I'd been asked about my family and our background. I'd even seen people pull their eyes into slants before, but that was little kids who didn't know any better. Granted, Ammo was a flatulent idiot, but he was a year from high school, so he definitely knew right from wrong.

Even though I tried to shake the thought, it stuck with me. Who else saw me as different because I was Asian? Or Suresh because he was Indian? Or even Anne Marie because she was overweight? It was as if all this time we'd been merely tolerated, not accepted. And that bothered me. It wasn't just Ilana that my “freak” show would be speaking to, I realized. It was the whole school.

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 was 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?”