I wracked my brain to pull the sequence forward. I’d just barely learned it twenty minutes ago, and now I had to be compared to Chloe and McKenna. I stepped to the side to allow them space on stage. Chloe, a super tall blonde with a pointy nose, stood center stage and ignored me; I knew her from dance with Ms. Ginny. Chloe had been Jessica’s understudy before the pot brownie incident. That meant that she was now the lead. I had no idea what role McKenna played.
The music played, and we ran the number. Thankfully, my nerves hadn’t wiped away my memory of the steps. Tyson watched, deep in thought. He sat and mulled for a minute and then asked to see it again. Now that I was dancing again and not singing, I embraced the situation and flowed through the lyrical steps, forgetting about the girls who danced at my side.
“McKenna, you may take a seat,” Tyson paced and rubbed his chin. He turned and focused on Eli, who slunk low in his seat. “Eli, hop up on stage with them too.”
Eli eased out of his seat with his head low and lumbered forward. He leapt onto the stage and took up McKenna’s former position.
“Stand between them, please,” Tyson directed.
Eli moved center stage. At least now the scrutiny was on the others too! We stood like specimens under a microscope. It was nice not to be the only one up here, but what was going on? Did he want to see if we could work together as dancers?
“Let’s see that sequence again.”
Eli groaned.
At least I wasn’t the only one tired of this process.
“Last time, I promise.” Tyson clicked on the music, and the three of us danced again. I became one with the music and the graceful flow of the moves. I loved the dance and wished I knew more. After performing the dance so many times, I knew I’d delivered my absolute best.
We waited, out of breath, as Tyson looked us over. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. Either I was good enough to make the show or not. I’d been afraid my long break from dance would ruin my audition, but I had proved myself wrong. It all came rushing back to me, like ice skating did each December. Granted, my singing sucked, but that shouldn’t keep me out of the chorus. I hoped.
Miss Ginny and Ms. Fuller watched but didn’t interrupt or try to sway his decision either way. This was Tyson Scott’s show and Tyson Scott’s decision.
“Thank you, that should do it. Willow, please come down. Everyone else, up on stage for vocal warm-ups.”
Finally! I took a quick peek at Eli, but he’d turned his back on me and talked to Chloe.
I joined Tyson. So this was it. Moment of truth. I tried to act cool and not reveal my jumble of nerves. Miss Ginny nodded her approval, but said nothing.
Tyson led me away from the kids who were supposed to be filing on stage, but instead were holding back to hear what he said.
“That was a nice audition. You have great technique.”
“Thank you.” I wished he’d get to the point. Up close again, it was hard not to feel intimidated. He had this chiseled jaw. I never understood what that meant until I met Tyson. He carried himself with amazing confidence. God, it would be great to be in his show.
“I’ll give you a call tonight, and we’ll talk.” His exceptional eyes softened.
“Okay,” I said dumbfounded. That was it?
Tyson turned and rejoined the group. So, no concrete answer. He said he’d call, so I must be in. But if I was in, why didn’t he just tell me so I could join today’s rehearsal? I turned and walked out of the auditorium. I knew that the eyes of all the cast members followed me out. Was this my walk of shame? I didn’t think so, but they probably did.
Chapter 8
“Why doesn’t he just call and put me out of my misery?” I said from the couch where I tied the fringe of the afghan in knots.
Dad handed Breezy a puzzle piece. “He’s probably some sadist who likes to make teenagers suffer.”
“He’s probably still at rehearsal putting them through boot camp.” Mom looked up from her Sudoku book.
“Or maybe he’s scooping their eyeballs out with a melon baller,” Breezy said making ghoulish expressions
“Did you hear that? She is totally warped. Dad, aren’t you the least bit worried?”
“Breezy, are you warped?” Dad asked.
“Totally.” She pretended to remove her eye with an imaginary melon baller.
The old fashioned wall phone rang!
Everyone froze and looked across the room.
“I got it!” I leapt off the couch and raced across the room.
Dad blocked my way like a basketball player. “Are you sure? I can get it.”
It rang again.
“Dad, not funny.” I stepped left to go around.
He moved left with me and kept my path blocked. “What, I just want to help.” He smirked.
“Step aside old man and don’t make me hurt you.” I gave him the evil eye and moved right.
The phone rang again.
I dodged past, but he grabbed me around the waist and swung me away from the kitchen, like he did when I was a little girl headed to the kitchen for a cookie.
“Daddy, stop it!” I squealed. “It’s my call. I have to answer it. Mom! Make him go away.” I broke free and ran to the phone, beating Breezy by a hair. I answered just as it rang again.
“Hello?”
“Hi! May I speak to Willow?” the low smooth voice of Tyson Scott asked.
“This is Willow.” My entire family stood next to me like a bunch of puppies waiting for a treat. Go away, I mouthed and waved at them.
“Is it him?” Breezy blurted loudly.
I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. “God Breezy, yes. Now go away. All of you.” I glared at Mom and Dad but they didn’t budge. Why did my family have to be so weird? I stretched the long spiral cord to the other end of the kitchen and turned my back.
Tyson laughed on the other end. “Sounds like you have a little sister.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, she can be a total demon.” I looked back and stuck my tongue out at her. Breezy fell backwards as if hit by an arrow in the chest.
“No problem. Growing up, I was the annoying little brother.”
I couldn’t imagine him as annoying or as a little brother. He was so cool and collected like he had been born a really awesome guy. But whatever his childhood had been, I wished he’d get on with it and stop with the small talk. I turned to lean against the kitchen counter, but saw Mom pantomiming and asking what was happening. I glared and turned back around.
“I wanted to tell you how impressed I was with your audition today.”
“Really?” Yes! I clenched the phone. Now say the words. Tell me I’m in.
“Yes. I would never guess you’ve been away from dance so long. You have excellent technique. But more than that, you have amazing stage presence.”
“I do?”
“Yes,” he chuckled. “When you dance, everything else disappears. You become one with the music. So many kids your age still perform like little rockettes with cheesy smiles. You dance with a passion I don’t see very often. Especially in someone your age.”
“Wow.” I didn’t know what to say. Tyson Scott, a Broadway choreographer, loved the way I dance.
“So please tell me this means I’m in the show.” I couldn’t bear to wait for him any longer. A noise sounded behind me. Breezy, Mom and Dad were sneaking up like they were on a black ops mission.
“Yes, you are in the show,” he said and I grinned and bounced up and down. “However, there is a little more to it and I want to run it all by you before you say yes.”
“Okay.” I stopped bouncing. Why couldn’t it be only good news? Why did there have to be a “but”?
The phone cord went taught. Mom tugged on it to get my attention. She gave me a thumbs up and a thumbs down choice. I returned the thumbs up with a grin. They fell over themselves on the floor in silent cheers. I rolled my eyes.
“When you came in, I was looking for someone to join the chorus. As you know, we los
t Jessica and Chloe is the understudy. However, once I saw you dance, combined with the physical match up and chemistry of you and Eli, I’d like to cast you as the lead, Lauren.
My eyes bugged out and I’m pretty sure my heart stopped. I looked at mom in shock. The silent cheering ended as they stared. I couldn’t begin to respond.
“Willow? You still with me?” I detected humor in his voice.
“Yeah,” I uttered.
“There is one catch though. Your vocals aren’t where we need them.”
What an understatement. I pictured Eli’s crashing missile gesture.
“You have a beautiful voice. Your choir teacher Ms. Fuller agrees. But you lack experience and confidence. So I’ve arranged for you to take some crash course voice lessons from an old friend of mine. She is an excellent teacher and is willing to rearrange her schedule to squeeze you in if you take the part.”
“Are you sure I can do it? I’m not much of a singer.” Hugest understatement of the year.
“Listen, we have singers who also dance and dancers who also sing. The role of Lauren is for a dancer who also sings. I wouldn’t cast you in the role if I didn’t believe you’d be able to get up to performance level in time for opening night.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. All I wanted was to get out of cheer, and now not only was I in the show, he was offering me the lead. My annoying family started whispering questions. I stepped past them and went to the hall pantry and closed the door. I sank down to the floor and leaned against Twinkie’s twenty-pound dog food bag.
“So, you’re saying that if I agree to voice lessons I have the lead?” A sheen of perspiration appeared.
“That’s right. However, I want to be sure you understand that it won’t be nearly as easy as it sounds. We’re almost three weeks into rehearsals and you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. As Lauren you will have rehearsal six days a week. It will be a grueling schedule, but I spoke to Miss Ginny and your cheerleading coach, Ms. Klahn, and they both assure me you have an amazing work ethic and are one of the most dedicated kids they’ve worked with. We all believe you’re up to the challenge. So if you take the part, you’re going to spend a lot of time looking at my ugly mug.”
Now that I could do. “May I ask you a question?”
“Sure, always,” he replied.
“What about Chloe and the other girls in the show? I can’t imagine they’ll be too happy to see me take over Jessica’s spot. Maybe it would be better if I were just in the chorus.” I really didn’t want to start with the cast hating me. That would be a big problem. Huge.
“Listen, I realize this is a youth show, however, it is also a professional production. My baby. I am the director, writer, producer and anything else you can imagine. There are a lot of people who invested a great deal of money to make this project come to fruition. There is an expectation that this show make the theatrical world sit up and take notice. I will not allow anything to jeopardize this opportunity. You are hands down technically and artistically superior to any other girl in that show. In fact, it was a blessing in disguise that Jessica left. You outshine her on the stage and are a much better match for our leading man.”
I swallowed down my shock. He thought I was better, no, superior to everyone else in the show? The cast consisted of the top kids from every dance school in the city. Was he out of his mind?!
“Oh.”
“With that said, don’t expect to hear praise from me again. I’m a slave driver.”
I couldn’t imagine Tyson being mean, but who knows. Ms. Klahn could be a real bitch, but she always got results.
“So what do you think? Did I give you a good enough sell or do I have to beg?”
“No, no begging necessary. If you think I can do it, I definitely want to.” My heart pumped a Latin beat. This was really happening!
“Excellent. Then I’ll see you tomorrow after school. Be ready to work your tail off.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. I will.”
Tyson clicked off, leaving me alone in the dark with a huge grin and the curly phone cord wrapped around my hand about five times. I stood, unwound the cord and opened the door to find Mom, Dad, Breezy, and Twinkie sitting on the floor. Mom stopped. She had been dabbing shaving cream on Breezy’s face.
“So?” Mom asked with a blob of shaving cream on her nose. “What happened?”
Grinning, I reached over them, knocked Breezy in the head with the cord as I hung up the phone and yelled, “He wants me to play the lead!”
“What!” They jumped to their feet and we all screamed and cheered. My dad did his happy dance; he calls it “happy feet”.
Breezy launched herself at me, wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her foam covered face against my belly.
“Breezy!” You just messed up my shirt!”
Mom shook her head. “Breezy, you need to be more careful.” Then Mom took my face with her foamy hands, a sneaky look in her eye. “You know how much Willow hates getting messy.” She smoothed my hair down with her sloppy hands.
“Mom!”
“You got the lead!” she squealed like only a proud mom can do.
Dad grinned, holding the can of shaving cream. He squeezed some into his hand and held it out. I swiped it. “Yes, I got the lead!” I grinned at mom, then smooshed the whole blob on top of her head and smeared it around. Twinkie jumped on us and barked.
From there the celebration turned into a world-class, knock-out, drag-out Thomas family shaving cream fight. Afterward we sprawled on the kitchen floor looking like a shampoo commercial gone wrong. The empty shaving cream can rolled in the corner next to Twinkie. Thank god Tyson didn’t know about my odd family. He might think twice about giving me the lead.
I had the lead! Yikes, how weird was that? I barely knew anything about the show.
“I’m hungry,” Breezy said.
Dad skimmed sloppy cream off Mom’s arm. “How about ice cream?”
“With chocolate sauce and peanuts,” Mom added.
I squeezed foam from my hair onto the floor. “And whipped topping!”
“Eww.” Mom said.
“Look at Twinkie. Something’s wrong.” Breezy said.
Twinkie looked stiff like a taxidermied dog. Her frozen body fell sideways against the cupboard door and slid onto the floor.
“What’s wrong with her?” I rushed to her side. Her body began to shake, a little like when she had dreams in her sleep, only now it was more rigid jerking and her eyes stayed open.
Dad tried to pet her, but his hand bounced off her jerking body. “I think she’s having a seizure.”
We surrounded her and watched her body twitch.
“Daddy, Mommy, make her stop,” Breezy cried.
I bit my lip and looked to Mom.
“I can’t,” she said. “Someone grab me a towel.”
I pulled the hand towel from the rack next to the sink and handed it to her. She placed it under our precious dog’s head. Twinkie’s stiff jaw froze halfway open, like she had lockjaw. The seizure continued, and Breezy started to cry. Mom hugged Breezy; her eyes met Dad’s.
Finally the seizure stopped and Twinkie lay limp. Suddenly she took a huge breath as if she’d been holding it all that time. Twinkie’s eyes moved. “Hey girl, are you okay?” I scratched behind her ears where she liked it best. She lay there another minute, then gave a short whine.
“That’s a good girl.” Dad pet her and Breezy leaned over and hugged her around the neck.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I think we’d better get her to the vet tomorrow,” Dad said.
“Poor baby,” Mom said. She got up and grabbed a spoon and the peanut butter jar. She scooped out a big dollop and held it out to Twinkie.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I didn’t want to do anything to make her worse.
“She’s scared and hurting. I don’t think a little peanut butter is going to make whatever she has worse.” Twinkie
’s tail flapped against the floor as she licked the peanut butter.
Later that night, after showering off the shaving cream, I lay in bed with wet hair. My skin felt especially soft from all the cream. I couldn’t go to sleep. My mind jumbled with thoughts of Twinkie, me having the lead in Dream Chaser and the huge relief that cheer was now over for good. All three of those things scared me. I needed to tell Jilly my cheer life was officially over. I would have called her tonight, but Twinkie’s seizure freaked me out too much. And then I thought about performing opposite Eli in the show and that freaked me out even more.
Chapter 9
“So?” Jilly shot at me, as I climbed into the car the next morning.
“What?” I knew darn well she wanted to know about the audition.
“Oh please, the audition! Tell me everything, don’t leave anything out.” She nearly bounced out of her seat.
I sighed. Jilly could be so intense and she wasn’t going to like what she heard.
“Were you scared? Was it really hard, did you screw up?” she asked in rapid succession.
I pulled my seatbelt across and clicked it. Jilly backed out of the driveway and toward school.
“Yes, I was scared. Terrified was more like it. Much worse than cheer tryouts.” For cheer, all you had to do was yell loud, jump high and plant a smile on your face. Then again, there were also the gymnastics, the lifts and the tricks. So maybe cheer wasn’t that easy either.
“Really, how?” she snapped her head back and forth from watching the road to watching me.
“Well, first off the director is so hot that...oh my god! You should see him!” I couldn’t believe I’d get to see him almost every day.
“I heard from Jessica that he used to model. We’ll have to Google him,” Jilly said.
“Anyway, it was so intimidating to audition in front of this great looking guy, and he’s not even that old. He looked about twenty-eight, but I’m sure he’s older.”
“So, did you bomb?”
“What?” I asked.
“Did you screw up? You haven’t danced in forever, and then they make you audition with like five minutes warning!”
Dream Chaser Page 6