Jenny McCafferty was sitting on the edge of the stage, hollering, “Ladies, sign up here! Gentlemen, your sign-up sheet is on stage right! That’s over there, for you theater newbies.” She waved her arm broadly, as if she were directing 747s on a tarmac. “Have your sheet music ready, if you have it! And please, please, please make sure the pages are in order! I’m saying that for your benefit, of course.” She did some sort of a pantomime of shuffling papers wildly and then gave a fake-sounding laugh. Xiang and I looked at each other, pitying. It was so bad, it wasn’t even worth mocking.
But Jenny didn’t seem perturbed by the awkward silence, and she plowed on. “OK, here’s how this works. I’ll be sitting over there by the entrance with the sign-up sheet, so late stragglers won’t interrupt the process. When I call out your name, go to the piano and give Christy your sheet music. If you have sheet music, that is.”
She motioned toward a pale girl sitting at the piano.
“Then go up onstage, introduce yourself, and work your magic.” And she actually did a jazz-hands motion. “If you don’t have a monologue prepared, as you should, there are a few emergency monologues you can read that I’ve put in a pile right here. Callback lists will be e-mailed out tonight or tomorrow morning, and callback auditions will take place on Monday—same time, same place.”
I signed my name and e-mail address on the list, and our group settled in a far corner of the theater, near where Xiang and I had sat before. But I couldn’t actually sit down in my buzz-y condition; I just sort of hovered above the group. I noted that Sister Mary Alice and Mrs. Murray, the musical director, had set themselves up in the second row, smack in the center, with their clipboards at the ready.
Kirby held out his hand to Xiang. “Hi, I’m Kirby.”
“Oh, right!” I gasped. “I totally forgot. I’m sorry. Boys, this is Xiang. Xiang, this is Kirby, Oliver, Derek, and Jimmy.”
Xiang wiggled her hand in a quick wave, then said to Kirby in her high, babyish voice (not again!), “I didn’t see you sign up with the others. Aren’t you auditioning, too?”
At that moment, I literally smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. I turned to Kirby. “Ohmigod, you’re actually here! I didn’t even think about it—you’re totally auditioning! We convinced you!” (To be fair, I wasn’t noticing much of anything, as I was focusing on trying to respond to the earth’s gravitational pull.)
Kirby smiled and shook his head. “Naw, I’m just here to provide immoral support.”
“Boooooooo,” I countered with an exaggerated frown and a double thumbs-down. “It’s not too late!”
“Oh, leave him alone. That’s exactly why I’m here, too,” squeaked Xiang. “So, are you all freshmen?”
“Jimmy and Derek are,” Oliver replied, “but Kirby and me are both sophomores. Kirby drove us here, actually.”
For a moment, I felt the buzz dim a bit. They were sophomores? Kirby could drive? I had simply assumed that they were our age. Huh.
More people streamed into the theater, and I was back to vibrating—with a vengeance. I hated being this nervous. Each time someone walked in, my inner self kicked an inner wall. Crap. More competition. The separate groups in the audience were starting to coagulate into one big crowd.
And then he walked in.
My mental kick froze, and I registered his appearance: OH. MY. GOD.
My right arm flailed out instinctively, hitting Xiang.
“Ow!” she yelped, recoiling from my blow.
“That’s the guy!” I hissed. “That’s the guy from the mall!”
“What guy?” she asked, rubbing her left arm and glaring at me.
“You know! The guy with the stinky grandmother!”
She turned and peered thoughtfully at him but then shrugged. “If you say so.”
Mall Guy made a brief scan of the crowd, then bent over Jenny McCafferty’s list. For once, McCafferty seemed a bit subdued as she watched him sign his name. I thought I could sense a slight hush over the theater as he walked from the sign-up sheet to the other side of the stage, and it seemed as though heads throughout the audience tracked him like flowers following the sun.
Then I heard Kirby whistle softly behind me; he, too, was gawking at the guy. But who could blame him? Mall Guy had a lanky, tall build and shiny black hair that swept past eyes that were dark and soulful, even from fifty feet away. Jimmy grabbed my hand and squeezed it, raising his eyebrows toward the newcomer. I responded by fanning my face with my other hand.
Mall Guy had come in with a friend, a barrel-chested guy with painfully spiked hair who chewed gum in an exaggerated, rolling motion. They settled on seats just at the edge of the stage, along the aisle.
I turned and saw Oliver reach out and wipe Kirby’s chin with his hand.
“Looks like you’ve got some drool there, buddy.”
After a few more people meandered in, Jenny stood and let out a piercing whistle.
“OK, people! Shush! We’re gonna get started now!” I somehow managed to lower myself into my seat. Jenny made a big show of checking the sign-up sheet. “The first person to go is . . . Maria Kilkenny.”
A big girl wearing bright orange socks hurried over to the piano. She gave Christy her music and climbed up onto the stage. I breathed a sigh of relief that they were going in order—how many names were ahead of mine? Thirty-five or so? God, that seemed like a long time—sitting and waiting, feeling like this . . .
“Hi, um, I’m Maria Kilkenny. I’m a freshman here, and I’m going to sing ‘There’s a Fine, Fine Line’ from the musical Avenue Q.” Ooh, excellent choice, I thought to myself. And then she opened her mouth—and I almost died.
She was amazing. She was, like, professional amazing.
I got chills listening to her. Then her monologue, something from Sophie’s Choice, was friggin’ perfect. I mean, one minute we were watching a stocky Oaks girl in orange socks, and the next thing we knew, Meryl Streep was standing on our stage, remembering the Holocaust.
Then I just felt sick. Was everyone going to be this good? Suddenly this whole audition thing seemed like a really dumb idea.
But that sinking feeling was buoyed by the next person to audition, a little guy wearing a St. Augustine’s Prep letter jacket. He basically croaked his way through “Music of the Night” . . . or at least I think that’s what it was supposed to be. And his monologue, taken from one of the court scenes from A Few Good Men—well, let’s just say it wasn’t convincing. Halfway through, Xiang put on earphones and took her algebra problem set out of her green bag.
Fortunately for those of us still watching through our fingers, none of the following people were that bad. Also fortunately, they weren’t nearly as good as that Maria Kilkenny girl. There were some funny monologues and some pretty decent singers, and the choices weren’t bad—well, except for a Disney song or two. A few people missed cues and forgot lines, but I was impressed (or depressed, I should say) by how good everyone was.
There was this one senior, Kate O’Day, who really stood out. Tall, skinny, and blessed with long, straight auburn hair, she could have been a supermodel, and she carried herself like one. She sang “Popular” from Wicked, a song she was perfect for, since it’s all about being pretty and, well, popular. Her monologue was from the montage at the end of the movie Clueless, when Alicia Silverstone realizes that she loves her stepbrother. Side note: No matter how much I love that movie (with all my heart and soul), or how cute Paul Rudd is in it (very extremely), the quasi-incest still creeps me out.
Kate did a good job, but I could tell she was angling for the Cinderella role, and I found that annoying. Anyway, her clique of friends cheered her in an obnoxious way—not so much to praise her performance but to intimidate everyone else.
And then, eventually, Jenny called my name.
My stomach did some gold-medal gymnastics as I clumped down the steps to the stage. I got up there but then realized I was still holding the sheet music. (Note to self: Follow self-evident instruct
ions.) I heard Jenny heave an exaggerated sigh, and I didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. Christy smiled sympathetically as I hustled to get her the music, and I tried to pretend that I still had a scrap of dignity as I remounted the stage.
Big breath, big breath.
“Hi, I’m Marty—Martha—Sullivan. Uh, I’m a freshman here. And I’m going to sing ‘I Can Hear the Bells’ from the musical Hairspray.” Sister Mary Alice watched me impassively. I cleared my throat, and Christy started to play. (A little slow for my taste, but, hey, what could I do?)
It went OK, I guess. Could have been worse.
When I finished, Mrs. Murray scratched furiously at her clipboard with her pen, her lips pursed. Sister Mary Alice kept her eyes on me, her face a complete blank. Then I realized that Xiang and the boys were clapping and cheering at the back of the theater, and a hiccup of a smile made its way through me. Then my eyes wandered over to my left, where I saw Mall Guy looking at me with a lopsided grin. He had his arms raised in the air, clapping. I held his gaze, and my smile blossomed into full-on beaming.
Then it was time for my monologue, which also went fine. I ended up choosing Clarence Darrow’s final argument in Inherit the Wind, which I figured was both theater-y and unconventional, since I was crossing gender lines. When I finished, I raised my head and gave a quick smile. My corner of friends broke out in cheers again, and I scuttled off the stage, but not without a sidelong glance (or two) toward Mall Guy. He was just so . . . magnetic.
Next up was Jimmy, and as my nervousness trickled down into calm, he slowly made his way to the stage. I hollered a solid “Whoo!” of support from my seat, but I could tell he was bracing himself for disaster.
“My name is James Caradonna. I’m a freshman at Bracksville High.” Jimmy cleared his throat, and Christy started playing.
And his audition was terrible. I wish it hadn’t been, but it was. Really terrible.
Red-faced, he climbed back up to where we were sitting, and I could tell that no amount of our clapping could take away the humiliation. Then I noticed Derek slip Jimmy a cough drop. Jimmy’s hand lingered on Derek’s fingers.
Then the next name was called out, and Derek reluctantly broke away to make his way down the auditorium steps to the stage.
“Hi, I’m Derek Mylvaganam, and I’m, uh, a freshman at Weeksburg High.” Derek shifted from foot to foot as Christy pounded out the intro. Clearly, he was in the lowest level of hell. My whole body was clenched in sympathy as he began singing.
Wow. He was . . . not bad! Not bad at all. I mean, he looked like he’d rather be cleaning toilets at a Greyhound bus station, but his singing was totally great. Even Jimmy was surprised—his mouth was literally open, his slack jaw dangling.
When he finished, we whooped and hollered as we had for Jimmy. But Derek couldn’t even look up at us, he was so mortified.
“Uh, and I’ll be reading a monologue from A Raisin in the Sun.”
Except that he looked more like he was removing his own skin with a guitar pick instead. The boy seriously did not want to be on that stage.
Jimmy reached over and grabbed my hand, giving it a death squeeze until Derek finally stopped. He had barely finished speaking the last word before he zoomed off the stage and back to his seat.
Kirby grabbed Derek’s shoulders from behind and shook him while the rest of us bombarded him with oh-my-god-you’re-so-good!s. We didn’t even hear Jenny McCafferty call out Oliver’s name the first time.
“IS THERE AN OLIVER KAPLAN HERE?” she repeated, waving her sign-up sheet at the audience.
Oliver leapt up from his seat and jogged down to the stage, but not before Kirby had flicked off Oliver’s baseball cap.
“I’m here! I’m here! Sorry about that . . .”
He slapped his music in front of Christy and vaulted onto the stage. He flashed his bright white smile at Sister Mary Alice and Mrs. Murray.
“Hey, there. I’m Oliver Kaplan, I go to Weeksburg High, just like Derek up there. He was good, wasn’t he?”
“Your song, Mr. Kaplan?” asked Sister Mary Alice. I couldn’t see her expression, but I’d bet it wasn’t amusement.
“Right—my song. I will be singing ‘Slow Boat to China.’ ” He made a big show of clearing his throat, then swung a pointed finger at Christy. “Christy, take it away!” He gave her a big wink.
Oh, Oliver. What a card.
Christy giggled and started bouncing out the intro.
Oliver’s grin didn’t leave his face for a second. His pitch, on the other hand, was all over the place. The boy was apparently tone-deaf.
But that didn’t slow him down at all: He did a cute little swaying thing, with his palms out, as if he were some sort of 1940s showman. Actually, he looked like he was having a ball, completely ignoring his own inability to produce an actual melody, and the joy was infectious. Even Xiang was watching him with a big, silly grin.
When Oliver finished, he gave a grand, sweeping bow, and it wasn’t just our group giving him a rousing cheer. He put one hand over his heart and pointed at Christy with the other. “Christy, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s hear it for Christy!”
Who knew he was such a ham?
Unfortunately, Oliver’s acting skills weren’t much of an improvement over his voice. He talked his way through his monologue in a stilted way, completely overemphasizing random words and rushing through the wrong parts. But he took another deep bow afterward, beaming his adorable smile and blowing kisses to the audience.
When he got back up to our group, he snatched his baseball cap back from Kirby and sank into the seat next to me.
“Whaddyathink?” he asked me, grinning.
I chuckled and gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re full of surprises—I’ll give you that.”
Derek leaned over and whispered at the group, “OK, all of us have auditioned. Can we leave now?”
Jimmy looked at me, and I involuntarily looked over toward where Mall Guy was sitting.
“Uh, yeah, you guys can go,” I said. “I’m gonna stick around and see the rest of the auditions—my dad’s coming at eight to pick me up, anyway. Plus, we can’t all fit in Kirby’s car, right?” I turned to Xiang. “But you could go with them.”
Xiang looked at me like I was nuts. “Uh, thanks but no thanks. I’m staying as long as possible. I’m in no rush to get home.”
Oliver and Jimmy looked torn about whether to stay, but Derek was already standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Jimmy gave my hand a final squeeze as he trailed after Derek.
Oliver turned to me and said hurriedly, “You did really, really great. I was really impressed. See ya!” Then he followed Kirby down the steps. I noticed that Kirby was looking over to where Mall Guy was sitting, trying to get one final look at the beautiful boy.
Xiang scooched over to sit next to me. “Your friends are really nice. And they’re so cute! Especially Oliver.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, smiling. “It’s too bad he plays for the other team.”
“Well, it looks like you’ve got your eye on another player altogether,” she said accusingly, angling her head toward Mall Guy.
“What? Him?” I sputtered, totally unconvincingly.
“Uh-huh,” she teased. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”
Well, I’m not the only one, I thought, scanning all the girls in the audience who had been sneaking glances at him throughout the evening.
There weren’t that many people left to audition, and soon they called up Matt Berzinski, who turned out to be the big guy who had come in with Mall Guy. He was a mess—the song was barely comprehensible, and he read from one of the extra monologue sheets in exactly one tone of voice the whole time.
Then Jenny called out, “Felix Peroni.” The tall, dark, handsome stranger from Maplewood Mall sauntered up to the stage.
“Hi, I’m Felix,” he said to Sister Mary Alice, his voice as deep as I remembered. “I’m a junior at St. Paul’s with Matt.
This evening I’m going to sing ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ for you. Christy . . . if you please?”
Xiang huffed, “Didn’t we already see Oliver do that whole ‘banter’ thing?”
I shushed her.
This guy wasn’t just hot; he was good. His singing was amazing. And he knew it. And the girls in the audience knew it. The supermodel girl, Kate O’Day, stood and gave a piercing whistle during the applause.
His monologue was from some play I’d never heard of, and he breezed through it. He turned his dark eyes on Sister Mary Alice and gave her a news-anchor grin. “Thank you very much. I look forward to hearing from you.”
This guy was confident—that was for sure.
As he made his way back to his seat, he looked over the audience, and for a moment his eyes met mine. And I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination or not, but I thought I saw the shadow of a wink. Like, his cheek went up for a split second to create the slight suggestion of a wink.
That, or he had a twitch.
But I wanted to believe it was a wink.
Date: Thursday, September 10
To: undisclosed recipients
Subject: INTO THE WOODS CALLBACK LIST
Hi, Jenny McCafferty here, with the results of our first audition (attached).
Thanks so much to everyone for coming—it was a huge success! Woo-hoo!
Unfortunately, there are only eighteen roles in the musical, so we can’t have everyone take part onstage. But if you don’t find your name on the callback list, or if you don’t make it to the final cast after the callback audition, there are other ways to be part of the OLOTO fall musical: There are two assistant stage manager positions still open, as well as positions in set design, props, costumes, orchestra, and so on.
If your name IS listed, callbacks will be held on Monday, September 14, at Jerry Hall, 3:45 P.M. SHARP.
Keep on keepin’ on,
Jenny
P.S. Go, Acorns!
I took a deep breath before I opened the attachment. My mental drumroll was still rumbling in my head when I saw it halfway down the list:
Martha Sullivan.
Beyond Clueless Page 6