Showstopper

by Lisa Fiedler

  “Will she be back for the next show?” asked Nora.

  “Of course she’ll be back,” was my answer. But in truth, it was really just a guess, based not so much on Mackenzie having actually said she would, but on the fact that she hadn’t said she wouldn’t.

  “This is a bit of a problem,” said Austin. “She’s Calypso, and she’s got that major dance number during the fight scene. And all the coolest battle moves depend on her. Not to mention all her newscaster lines.”

  “I’m not too worried about the chorus part,” I said. “We can divide up her lines between the other newscasters. You guys all know her part, right?”

  The actors who switched in and out of chorus roles nodded.

  “Good,” I said. “That’s solved. Maddie, I’m putting you in the role of Calypso. Can you learn the lines?”

  “Sure,” said Maddie. “But I’ll never be able to do those ballet moves.”

  I thought for a moment. “Well, Calypso doesn’t have to be a ballerina. You’re a cheerleader, right?”

  Maddie nodded.

  “So maybe you can goddessize some of your cheer dance moves for Calypso.”

  Maddie’s eyes lit up. “I can so totally do that.”

  Then I took a deep breath and turned to Becky. “Now all we need is someone who can fill in for Kenzie during the battle scene.”

  “What?” Becky looked terror stricken. “Anya, no. No way. Are you crazy?”

  “It’s a challenge,” I said. “But, Bex, you know the combat choreography better than anyone. And I’m sure after all those extra fight calls and rehearsals, you must have picked up Mackenzie’s dance steps. You guys worked so closely on mixing the dancing into the sword fighting.”

  Becky bit her lip. “Well, sure … I know the steps. I just don’t think I could ever do them as well as Mackenzie did.”

  “We’re not asking you to do them as well as she did,” I said evenly. “We’re just asking you to do them as well as you can. And don’t sell yourself short. You can be really graceful when you want to be.”

  “But you’re asking me to do this in front of people,” said Becky. “I’m not a performer.”

  Susan laughed. “Excuse me, but you are totally a performer. You play sports in front of crowds all the time. You do backflips off the high dive in front of a panel of judges!”

  “Please, Becky,” I said. “We really need you.”

  It took about three seconds for my lifelong BFF to say she’d do it.

  “All right then,” I said, in my best directorial voice. “Time to get to work.”

  On Wednesday morning we did a complete run-through without stopping once. It was fabulous. The songs sounded terrific, the scenes were hilarious and exciting, and the dances were spot-on. Becky may not have had the elegant ballerina style Mackenzie brought to the performance, but she more than made up for it with her easy athletic poise and fluidity.

  The afternoon was devoted to our cue-to-cue rehearsal (not easy since the majority of our lights and pizza car wouldn’t be available until Thursday afternoon) and our final costume fittings.

  Sophia made a terrifying Cyclops and a stunning Circe.

  “Talk about range,” Susan observed. “She can pull off being a monster and a goddess.”

  “Susan,” I said, blinking at my sister in wonderment. “You just said something nice about Sophia Ciancio!”

  “I know,” she said with a sigh. “I guess playing the father of the gods has made me a little more understanding of you poor flawed humans.”

  Before we knew it, Thursday had arrived. Dress rehearsal! We’d be running the play from start to finish in full costume and makeup, using all of our (admittedly limited) tech.

  Since we wouldn’t be able to get a true sense of how our lighting worked until after sundown, we decided to hold off on dress rehearsal until dusk.

  That left me with the whole day to sit around and obsess about things like Brady’s long white wig blowing off his head in the middle of his song, or Nick getting called away to deliver some emergency pizza order in the middle of broadcasting our all-important battle sound effects, or whether Maxie would remember to bring enough safety pins to attach the curly little tails to the soldiers’ backsides after Circe turns them into pigs.

  Or …

  My stress was interrupted by a text from Becky.

  HOW ABOUT A SWIM?

  I smiled. It was a great idea. So I texted back:

  SOUNDS GOOD. R U ALREADY AT THE POOL?

  My best friend replied:

  YEP. MADDIE, GRACIE, AND JANE JUST WALKED

  IN TOO. BRING SUSAN.

  I texted back:

  BE RIGHT THERE.

  I went upstairs to notify Susan and change into my bathing suit. Nothing like a little socializing at the town pool to calm a producer’s nerves, I thought.

  But I was wrong about that. Because when we arrived at the pool half an hour later, I found myself more nervous than ever.

  Not because of the play.

  But because Matt Witten was standing at the end of the diving board.

  And he was smiling at me!

  It was a moment before I realized Matt was no longer on the diving board. He’d executed a flawless front flip and was now swimming toward the ladder.

  A giggle and a nudge from Susan got my feet moving toward the lounge chairs where not only Gracie, Maddie, and Jane were sitting, but also Spencer and Travis. Sophia was letting Elle French-braid her hair (seated as far as possible from Nora, who was flipping through a magazine), and Teddy was a little ways down on the pool deck, showing off his Hacky Sack skills to Deon, who didn’t even wave when I arrived.

  I tried not to let that bother me. But it did.

  “Brady and Austin just went to the snack bar for sodas,” Jane reported.

  I beamed. “Looks like everybody had the same idea,” I said, tugging off my T-shirt and shorts and smearing sunscreen on my cheeks and nose.

  “The gods on Olympus used to do this sort of thing all the time,” said Susan knowingly. “Random get-togethers, just to celebrate their own awesome godliness. Of course, there was usually a lot of ambrosia flowing at those shindigs.” Her eyes shot to the concession stand. “Maybe I can get someone to spring for an ice-cold Dr Pepper.”

  She skipped off toward the snack bar, where I was sure she’d be able to con Austin into buying her a soda. Over the last several weeks, they’d become pretty good pals. I think for Susan, Austin was like the big brother she’d always wanted.

  “Anya!”

  I looked up to see Becky climbing out of the pool and then dripping her way across the concrete deck, a huge smile on her face.

  “Okay, so … it wasn’t actually my idea to text you,” she confessed.

  “It wasn’t?”

  “Well, I mean, of course, I would have wanted you to come and hang out, but I thought you’d be all wrapped up in play stuff for tonight, and I didn’t think I should bother you.”

  She was grinning so broadly that I found myself smiling, too. “Then why did you?” I asked. “Not that it’s a bother.”

  Becky leaned in to whisper the reason in my ear.

  “Because Matt asked me to!” she said.

  “Seriously?”

  Becky nodded.

  “Matt Witten came up to you and said, ‘Text Anya and tell her to come to the pool’?”

  Becky nodded again. She was smiling so hard, I thought her cheeks might explode.

  “OMG.”

  Becky laughed. “He really likes you, Anya.”

  “Well … what do I do?” I asked, hoping everyone would mistake the deep-red blush of my cheeks for rapid-onset sunburn. “Should I wave? Should I go talk to him?”

  “I don’t think you have to,” Becky said. This was because Matt was now heading in our direction.

  I immediately wondered if my hair looked okay.

  “Hi, Anya.”

  “Hi, Matt.”

  In the next heartbeat, Austin was standin
g beside me as though he’d materialized out of thin air. Susan was hot on his heels. And she was holding a bottle of Sprite.

  “They were all out of Dr Pepper,” she explained, her eyes locking on Matt Witten.

  “Wasn’t sure you’d be here,” said Matt, smiling right at me. “I figured you’d be busy getting ready for the show.”

  “Nope,” I said. “Not busy at all.”

  “Anya’s not the type to stress out,” Becky informed him. She knew as well as I did this was a flat-out lie. In fact, I was stressing out big-time right now… . Was there a glob of unsmeared sunscreen on my nose? Should I have worn a nicer swimsuit?

  “I was thinking,” said Matt. “Since I am an advertiser, I should probably see the show.” He shook some water out of his hair. “Not that that’s the only reason. I mean, I would wanna see it anyway.”

  “Well, I’ll be happy to comp you a ticket,” I said.

  Susan frowned. “Again with the comps?”

  I ignored her and went right on smiling at Matt.

  Who was still smiling at me.

  And then … it happened!

  “So, Anya … ,” he said, sounding a little nervous. “I was wondering, would you maybe want to … I dunno … like, hang out Saturday night or something? We can go to the arcade. Or bowling or something?”

  It took me a second to register that I had just been asked out on a date.

  A date! I, Anya Wallach, had just been asked out.

  On a date!

  The reason I knew it was really happening was because I heard my sister actually gasp in absolute shock.

  Without even thinking, I said, “That sounds fun, Matt. Sure. I’d love to.”

  I only hoped he couldn’t tell my knees had begun to quiver. This was my first official date request, after all.

  “Great,” said Matt. He sounded a little relieved, as if he hadn’t been entirely positive I would accept.

  Then Susan, ever the helpful little sister, gave me a nudge to the ribs. “Anya … I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you are so not allowed to date!”

  I had a sudden image of myself pouring her entire soda down her throat just to shut her up!

  “Oh,” I said grimly. “That’s actually a good point.”

  “Well, it won’t be a date if we all go.”

  This very astute observation had come from Austin. I turned to him, looking confused.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What if we all go?” he said with a shrug. “You and Matt, and me and Becky.”

  “Technically, that’s a double date, Romeo,” Susan pointed out wryly. “But I bet you’ve got a way better shot at getting Mom and Dad to okay that, as opposed to just you and Mr. Brown Eyes here canoodling on your own.”

  Matt laughed. Apparently, he (like everybody else on the planet) found Susan adorable. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “Becky, you in?”

  Did he really have to ask? It was pretty obvious from the way she and Austin were suddenly grinning at each other like a couple of goofballs, Becky was all for it.

  Now all I had to do was get Mom and Dad’s permission.

  “A date?” my father said. “As in … a date?”

  We were standing in the foyer. The front door was still open behind him, since I was approaching him with this request the minute he walked in from work. I had dragged Mom to the foyer with me because I knew this was the kind of request they would have to process as a team.

  I nodded. “Yes. A date as in a date.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed, his forehead furrowed. “You’re asking if you can go on a date?”

  “A double date,” I clarified quickly. “Becky and Austin are going, too. And it’s not the kind of date you guys used to go on back in the olden days.”

  “Oh,” said Mom, grinning. “So then this young man won’t be coming to pick you up in his Conestoga wagon?”

  “You know what I mean. We’re just going bowling. Lots of girls my age go bowling with groups of friends. Some of them even go to the movies, which is way more date-ish than the bowling alley.”

  My parents looked at each other, conferring silently.

  “Who is this boy?” my father asked.

  “Matt Witten.”

  “The kid who cuts the lawn?”

  “He prefers the term arborist,” I said.

  “And he’s got some seriously gorgeous brown eyes,” Susan added, poking her head in from the family room. “Just sayin.’ ”

  Another look passed between Mom and Dad.

  “All right,” Mom said at last. “You can go. But this will be a daytime activity, and we’ll be dropping you off and picking you up. Tell your date he can meet you at the alleys at eleven o’clock.”

  I totally could live with that. I flung my arms around her and hugged. “Thank you!” I cried.

  An outdoor play and a double date at the bowling alley! Something told me this was going to go down in history as one of the best weekends of my life.

  That evening, as the stars began to twinkle over our amphitheater, we had our dress rehearsal.

  Any actor or director would tell you there was just something about “dress” that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. It wasn’t quite the show, but it was more than just a rehearsal. It was the culmination of long weeks of preparation and exhausting work.

  It was your last chance to get it right.

  Your show—your precious show—that had been once just a script and some songs, was now a living, breathing thing. And you knew in your heart that even if a thousand different companies were to perform it a thousand different times, it would never look or sound or be exactly the same as your show. Every play was the result of some unique and magical alignment of talents, personalities, and events, all coming together (or, in some cases, falling apart) to be something utterly original.

  But for me, the truly poignant thing about dress rehearsal was this: it was the very last time your play belonged to just you. On opening night, you would give it away. That was what a performance was, after all… . It was you giving your show to the audience, offering it, like a gift, to these people who’d come to enjoy it. You would kiss it good-bye and send it out into the world, with all its perfect moments and silly mistakes.

  Dress rehearsal was the last time you and your cast could say this was ours … because tomorrow it would be theirs, too. To enjoy and to remember. And you could only hope the audience would love it every bit as much as you did.

  “Anya?”

  I snapped myself out of these thoughts to see Austin looking at me expectantly. “Ready?”

  I wasn’t, not really. I wanted to keep this play to ourselves just one second longer. But that was not what a director did. So I nodded.

  “Bon voyage, Odysseus,” I whispered to the sky. Then I took a deep breath and smiled at my cast. “Places, everyone!” I called.

  It was time to begin.

  As dress rehearsals go, this one was pretty tame. We had a few forgotten lines and some costume delays, and there were some technical issues to work through.

  Getting the wind effects right, for example, was tricky. On the high setting, the fans made the backdrops whip and flap so ferociously, it looked as if the Aegean were in the throes of a monsoon. “Try low,” I suggested to Deon. It worked.

  The actors spoke clearly and loudly, and the acoustics were totally in our favor. Austin positioned himself at the top of the slope and swore he could hear the actors’ every word. Even the ones they got wrong!

  For example, in the scene where the Greek chorus (known in the script as the Eyewitness Muse Team) reports that Aeolus, the god of wind, has given Odysseus a bag of breeze, Gracie got tongue-tied and said Aioli had given our hero a bag of fleas.

  “Bet that would have really ‘bugged’ Odysseus,” Susan quipped. “And who is Aioli? The god of mayonnaise?”

  Poor Elle! She played the swift-flying Hermes with a huge amount of heart and energy, but she just could not seem to nail th
e weird pronunciation of Calypso’s island.

  “O-guy-guy-yay?”

  “No,” I told her patiently. “Oh-jee-jee-yuh.”

  She tried again. “O-giggy-goy-ah?”

  “Closer.” Then I said it again more slowly. “Oh. Jee. Jee. Yuh.”

  Elle nodded and repeated after me: “Oh-jee-jee-yuh.”

  “Yessss!” cried Austin, running down the slope to give her a high five. “Perfect.”

  Sadly, our six-headed Scylla monster needed a bit of rethinking. Since we no longer had the CCC’s risers to work with, we settled for lining up the five additional actors behind Spencer and having them poke their heads out one at a time. It wound up being pretty hilarious, but deep down I’d really wanted to create the illusion of disembodied faces floating around.

  “Maybe next time,” Maxie said.

  It was close to ten thirty by the time we were ready to rehearse the curtain call.

  “Sorry, there’s still no theme song,” said Austin.

  Believe it or not, I had almost forgotten about it, what with all the other issues that had come up. “It’s okay,” I told him. “We’ve been busy.”

  “I promise,” he said, “we’ll have it for the next show.”

  “The next show,” I repeated, smiling. “Okay.”

  Because this time I had no doubt in my mind there would be a next show. Random Farms was in business for the long haul now. And there was nothing that could stop us.

  CHAPTER

  22

  There was only one way to say it: The Odd-yssey was a complete triumph, a full-on crowd pleaser, and an enormously huge success.

  (Okay, so maybe there were three ways to say it.)

  From the moment Teddy walked onstage and sang his opening number, “Everything Is Epic,” we knew we had a hit on our hands.

  Brady and Susan got roars of laughter when surfer boy Poseidon complained to Zeus that Odysseus had “O-dissed him big-time, dude.” And Sophia was by turns terrifying and hilarious as Cyclops.

  “Maxie, you did a great job with that costume,” I whispered while we watched from backstage.

  “Never underestimate the power of a well-tailored bath mat!” Maxie replied.

  The best undisputed laugh line of the night wasn’t actually from the script at all; it was an ad lib from Elle (as Hermes), who shouted to Odysseus as his ship left Calypso’s island: