“Stop.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not about that. I know Kaylee jokes that all we care about is winning, but it’s really about creating our own stuff without the help of adults. And, you know, getting to tell a story from our own point of view.”
I could tell this wasn’t just something a winner was taught to say to make his competition feel better. I was pretty sure he meant it. The more Teddy talked about Ghostlight, the more envious I felt myself becoming. What originally seemed like an excuse to see a couple of my friends was starting to sound like something I would seriously regret missing out on.
“What if,” I said, biting the corner of my lip, “what if I did the Ghostlight Festival?”
Teddy stared straight into the camera of his phone. For a moment he was silent, his expression hard to read.
“Don’t mess with me, Jack Goodrich.”
“Like, what if?” I shrugged.
“Do not get my hopes up if you are not serious.”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “It sounds fun. Although I guess it would be a lot to put together.”
“Well, you would have to direct it,” Teddy said. “Like, who knows more about Broadway stuff than Jack Goodrich? Look, Wren is cool and all, but she’s not even close to being as big a nerd as you.”
“Um. Thanks?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No, I just mean, you’ve had more experience than probably any eighth-grader who would compete in this thing. I’m sure you’ve worked with a lot of directors and seen what works and what doesn’t. I bet you’d be a natural.”
I could feel my mind swirling with thoughts. To be honest, I had no idea what our piece would look like, or what show we’d pick, or if we could even pull it off. But none of those things made me feel anxious. They made me feel exhilarated. I looked down at Teddy’s face on my phone screen. Of course there was something else, too.
“Plus, I’d get to see you . . .” I stumbled, correcting myself . . . “You guys.”
Teddy raised his eyebrows slightly.
“It would be just like camp again,” I quickly added.
He looked away from the camera, perhaps at the clock on his dad’s desk or the math homework that had gone untouched for the past forty-five minutes.
“What’s Lou going to do?” Teddy asked.
I immediately felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Of course. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten about my partner in crime. As far as Lou was concerned, I’d never even given the Ghostlight Festival a second thought. But shouldn’t it count that I was going to bring it up with her? It’s just that a poorly timed newspaper ad had stolen the spotlight.
“She’ll probably still want to do Sound of Music. You have no idea how she gets when she’s stuck on an idea.”
“Well, that would suck.” Teddy frowned. “You guys worked together so well on that song at camp. I can’t imagine you doing it without her.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Me neither.”
“Well, you should at least present her with the option,” Teddy said after a pause. “Just tell her about it. You might be surprised. She might end up going for it. Plus, the actual competition is so fun! We basically take over a Marriott for three days. Like, everywhere you go it’s theater kids in the elevator, theater kids in the pool, theater kids getting their arms stuck trying to steal a Twix bar from the vending machine . . .”
“How long were you stuck?” I deadpanned.
“Forty-five minutes, but that’s beside the point,” Teddy continued. “It’s not just about people competing. It’s about spending a weekend with kids who love musicals just as much as we do.”
“Dinner’s ready!” my dad’s voice called up the stairway.
“Okay, I have to go,” I said hurriedly. “Thanks for your advice—it was really great talking to you.”
“You too, Jack Attack.” He smiled. “Let me know what you end up choosing.”
“I will. Break legs at auditions!”
Teddy beamed one last crooked smile into his phone and logged off. I couldn’t figure out whether it was the rush of possibilities that came with directing my very own show or the fact that I’d finally gotten to talk with Teddy, but I bounced down the stairs with a huge grin on my face. I was going to make Ghostlight happen, I decided—I just needed to figure out how to get my best friend on board.
Louisa
“HEY, LOU—CAN WE TALK FOR a sec?”
It was the second day of school and Jack and I were walking from the bus to the main entrance, sidestepping clumps of middle-schoolers determined to enjoy every last minute of freedom before the first bell rang.
“Sure,” I said, stopping in the middle of the walkway. “Is something wrong?”
I was instantly worried. What could have happened between yesterday and today that required a special before-school talk?
“Nothing’s wrong,” Jack assured me, shaking his head for emphasis, “I just . . . have something I want to tell you.”
I gripped the straps of my backpack, bracing myself. “What?”
Jack hesitated as if debating whether to continue.
“Well, I was FaceTiming with Teddy last night . . .”
He paused, and in that brief moment of silence between us I wondered with slight apprehension if my suspicions about Jack’s feelings toward Teddy were about to be confirmed. I didn’t know why it made me nervous to think about Jack possibly being gay. I mean, I found out Wayne Flanagan was gay toward the end of Into the Woods and it didn’t change the way I thought about him at all. My mom’s friend Kathryn had recently married a woman she’d been with for thirteen years and they had two kids, and it all seemed perfectly normal. Still, I just wasn’t ready to talk about this stuff with my best friend. I wouldn’t know what to say.
None of that mattered, though, because what Jack actually said next was:
“I don’t think I want to audition for Sound of Music.”
I was dumbfounded. Jack’s statement came as such a surprise that I could only blink in response. Mostly because I was speechless, but also because I didn’t want to start crying. Finally, after an awkward beat, I asked quietly, “Why not?”
“Well, because . . .” Jack looked down at his feet, shuffling them from side to side.
Because you’re sick of me, I thought, my heart sinking, because I’ve dragged you into every theatrical thing I could find since the moment you arrived in Shaker Heights and you could really use a break. Because you hate the Von Trapp family, because you’re finally joining the soccer team, because—oh God!—you and your family are moving back to New York . . .
“Because I think we should enter the Ghostlight Festival instead.”
Okay, so maybe my first instinct was correct, and this did have something to do with Teddy? I’d personally forgotten all about the Ghostlight Festival, and with good reason.
“You want to do Ghostlight even though Teddy’s school is basically guaranteed to win?”
He shrugged.
“It sounds fun.”
“You want to enter a contest you know we won’t win.”
I eyed Jack skeptically, hearing Kaylee’s laugh in my head as she teased Teddy about Cavendish’s numerous victories.
“It’s not all about winning,” Jack said, and proceeded to tell me in animated detail about his conversation with Teddy the night before, about how Cavendish had decided to enter Ghostlight with a thirty-minute presentation of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, how some girl named Wren (Wren?) was directing it, how MTNs got to take over a Marriott for a weekend . . . By the time he finished talking, it was clear that, whether he had a crush on Teddy or not, he was genuinely interested in entering the Ghostlight Festival.
“I think it could be a really cool experience,” Jack concluded, searching my face to see if he’d convinced me in any way.
“Well,” I began, still processing everything he’d said, “who would direct it? You?”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Jack said, cauti
ously, “which would also mean that I couldn’t be in it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s part of the competition rules. Directors can’t put themselves in their presentations.” Jack must have known that this piece of information would make me even more skeptical, because he asked, almost apologetically, “Would you be okay with that?”
I didn’t know how to answer because I didn’t know if I was “okay” with any of this—five minutes earlier I’d been brainstorming ways to wear my hair for my Sound of Music audition. I flashed back to doing Into the Woods with Jack last fall, remembering how much fun we’d had with the Shaker Heights Players. Sound of Music was sure to be a blast, too, and even though I wasn’t guaranteed a part, letting it go by without even trying felt like a huge sacrifice. On the other hand, a Marriott packed with MTNs sounded great, too, especially if it meant a Four Musketeers reunion. Rather than respond to Jack’s question, I had one more of my own.
“What show would you want to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” Jack replied. “I was sort of hoping you’d help me decide.” Well, that’s something, I thought. It was always nice to be included in decision making, especially if it involved choosing a show. Even so, I wasn’t ready to give in. Sensing this, Jack continued, “Listen, just think about it, okay? If you still want to do Sound of Music, I’ll audition, too. I mean, there would be no point in doing Ghostlight without you.” Oh jeez, I thought, way to guilt-trip me, Jack!
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” I nodded. The first bell rang.
“Thanks,” Jack said, looking hopeful.
We let ourselves get swept up by the herd of kids making their way toward the school building, and I wondered how in the world I was going to be able to concentrate in any of my classes with so much to consider.
By lunch I was no closer to making a decision and therefore had no appetite, choosing to head to the library instead of braving the chaos of the cafeteria. What should I do? I kept asking myself as I wandered down one of the empty hallways, when suddenly, as if in answer to my question, a redheaded fireball emerged from the teacher’s lounge down the hall, calling over her shoulder to someone inside, “See you later, hon!”
“Belinda!” I shouted, prompting the one and only Belinda Grier to pivot in my direction, landing in a perfect third position. Though she had been living in Shaker Heights since January, she still looked like she’d just stepped out of a New York dance studio. A long knitted maroon tunic draped off her shoulder, while zebra-print tights continued their safari into ankle-high black suede booties.
“Well, if it isn’t Louisa ‘Lou’ Benning!” she shouted back, then thrust out her arms like Mama Rose, inviting me in for a hug. I ran and flung my arms around her—my fairy godmother, here to rescue me.
“Wow,” she said, holding me out at arm’s length and studying my face, “you are getting pretty.”
I wasn’t used to being called pretty. Jenny was pretty, especially now that she looked like a grown-up, but I didn’t think I was. Cute and adorable were the words people used to describe my appearance, usually by my parents’ friends or by the receptionist at the dentist’s office. The word pretty seemed utterly foreign, so of course I blushed, embarrassed. Belinda laughed.
“I’m serious, Miss Thing,” she said. “You’re going to start breaking some hearts pretty soon.”
An image of Tanner grinning at me by our lockers the day before flashed across my mind, making my palms start to sweat. Instantly uncomfortable, I quickly changed the subject.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Belinda had filled in to direct our production of Guys and Dolls last spring after our music teacher, Mrs. Wagner, was injured in a skiing accident in Colorado. She also substitute taught occasionally, but it seemed unlikely that she’d be doing so on the second day of school. And because of this, it was Belinda’s turn to blush.
“I, um,” she began, then pursed her lips together to suppress a giggle, “I was bringing Coach Wilson his lunch.” We shared a knowing smile as I thought back to how excited Coach Wilson was when Belinda returned home to Shaker Heights. They had performed opposite each other in their high-school production of Once Upon a Mattress, many years ago. Looked like Princess Winnifred and Prince Dauntless were now romantically linked offstage, as well.
“What are you doing?” Belinda asked, looking around the deserted hallway. “Shouldn’t you be in the cafeteria?”
I sighed heavily and gave her a pathetic look.
“Oh, child,” she said, putting her arm around me, “I know sighs like that. Come with me and let’s chat it out.”
You might think that a big empty theater feels lonely, but sitting on the edge of the stage with Belinda Grier during my lunch period was the coziest situation I could have imagined. It was so strange to think that only months before, she and I had squared off in this very place during an incredibly tense rehearsal for Guys and Dolls. But a lot had changed since then, and right now I really needed her help.
“That is a conundrum,” Belinda conceded after I’d explained to her my Sound of Music vs. Ghostlight dilemma, “but Jack has said he’ll do whatever you decide?”
I nodded, feeling a little queasy. Belinda smiled.
“Gosh—isn’t it terrible having kind and decent friends?”
“It is!” I lamented, dropping my head into my hands. The fact that Jack was being so generous really did make this whole thing much harder.
“Here’s the thing, darling,” Belinda said, gently patting my back, “what you have here is known as a champagne problem.”
I sat up and looked at her.
“Huh?”
“This may seem like a tough decision, but really—you get to choose between two favorable outcomes. No matter what, you’ll have a great experience with your best friend by your side. I mean, if you choose Sound of Music, you’ll both still have to get cast, but please . . . we all know you two have a pretty good shot at that, right?”
“Right,” I said quietly, not wanting to appear presumptuous.
“And Jack has made you a direct offer to be in his Ghostlight show, which—come on—is the best thing you can hope for in show business. So before you start feeling too sorry for yourself, hon, just remember that there are much harder things to choose between,” she said pointedly, then straightened out her tights so the zebra stripes looked more stripy and less wavy. Like choosing between staying in New York City or moving back to Shaker Heights, Ohio? I wondered, thinking back to how difficult it must have been for Belinda to give up her dreams of being a Broadway star. I stared out at the vacant rows of seats, seeking answers from an invisible audience. I could feel myself leaning in a certain direction as I pictured a hotel full of kids, all singing and dancing in shows that they had put together themselves. But I was still hung up on one thing.
“Ghostlight just seems like a lot of work for nothing!” I blurted out. How was entering an unwinnable contest a “favorable outcome”?
“Because of this other school? This school where your camp friend goes?” Belinda asked.
“Yeah, Cavendish. They’ve won for the last eleven years.” I sighed, already feeling defeated. Belinda suddenly grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face her. I could smell her perfume, exotic and smoky.
“Hey,” she said forcefully, fixing me with her green-eyed stare, “what kind of attitude is this? When did you get so pessimistic?”
I gulped. She made a good point.
“It’s one thing if you’d rather do the Players’ show; fine. But if Ghostlight is something you want to do, then you’re not doing it ‘for nothing.’ Don’t let some other school’s track record get in the way of that.”
She let go of my shoulders, smoothed out her tunic, and checked her watch, making me think that my session with Dr. Belinda was over. But then she said one more thing, which would ultimately turn my champagne problem into a champagne solution.
“And don’t sell yourself short, kiddo. Maybe Cavendish has won th
is Ghostlight thing for the past eleven years—but they’ve never gone up against Jack Goodrich and Louisa Benning.”
Jack
“SO, I’VE GIVEN IT SOME thought,” Lou said the next day in gym class as we waited on the sidelines for our turn at kickball.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, bracing myself for Lou to pop my Ghostlight dreams like a chewing gum bubble.
“This Ghostlight thing sounds like it could be a lot of fun, but . . .”
My heart instantly sank. So much for the Four Musketeers, I thought. So much for herds of MTNs singing Disney medleys.
So much for getting to see Teddy again.
“But,” she said, gathering her thoughts, “I’ve had my heart set on Sound of Music for so long, y’know?”
“Totally,” I said, my fingernails digging into the grooves of the metal bench. Just say it, Lou. Say you’d rather be singing “So Long, Farewell” than road-tripping to a hotel with your best friend for a Camp Curtain Up reunion.
“So after giving it a lot of thought—”
“Benning,” Coach Wilson called, looking up from his clipboard. “You’re up!”
“So after giving it a lot of thought . . . ?” I pleaded.
“One sec, I gotta kick!” she said, lazily skipping to home plate.
I almost rolled off the bench onto the dusty floor of the dugout.
“Lou, you’re killing me!”
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll get out, like, immediately.”
Lou sidled up to home plate looking about as uncomfortable as Coach Wilson would have been standing at a ballet barre. Sebastian Maroney, wearing a smirk you could see all the way from the pitcher’s mound, launched his first pitch straight at Lou, who halfheartedly stuck out her leg, making just enough contact to roll the ball straight back into Sebastian’s hands.
Like I said, gym class isn’t exactly our forte.
“Oh, come on, Lou. You didn’t even try!” Coach Wilson shouted from the sidelines as Lou trotted back to the bench.
“So . . . ?” I asked, practically jumping out of my skin.
Jack & Louisa: Act 3 Page 5