She seemed anxious to know if I tanked.
“No, actually I did pretty good.”
Jilly looked disappointed.
“But then he made me sing. In front of the entire cast! I thought I’d die!” I left out the part about Eli. It was just too complicated to explain.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t say I bombed it, but it sure wasn’t good either. My voice cracked, and not in a good way.” I quivered at the memory.
Jilly bit back a smile as she turned a corner.
“Hey, it’s not funny. I was trying really hard.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just the idea of you on a stage all by yourself singing. Can’t picture it.”
Twenty-four hours ago I couldn’t picture it either, but Jilly would have to picture it soon, because that is exactly what was going to happen. Crap. Tyson’s court-appointed voice teacher better be a genius.
“So the dancing was good, the singing bad. When do you find out if you made it?” she asked as she turned into the school parking lot.
“I already did.” Here we go.
“What? You let me sit her and blab on and you already know.” She pulled into a spot in the third row and threw the car into park. “Well? Spill it.”
Why was I afraid to tell her? She was my best friend and would get over it. Hopefully by lunch. I looked her straight in the eye. “I made it.”
Her demeanor shifted right away. Not in a huge, “you’re a bitch” way, but more of a subtle “can’t see it, but can feel it” way.
“Oh.” She turned off the car and dumped her keys into her bag.
We sat there in silence. I wasn’t sure if I should keep talking, maybe tell her about Twinkie’s seizure and get a little sympathy.
“So are you going to do it?” Her voice sounded monotone as if she didn’t care which way I answered.
I stumbled over my words. “Well...yeah. I am.”
“What about cheer? You know we can’t get to Nationals without you,” she said through tight lips.
“Jilly, I quit cheer.”
“You said you’d think about it.” She crossed her arms.
“I did,” I said, but that was a lie. I never once thought about going back. Just about how to put more distance between me and the high-flying team.
“No. You didn’t. You just said that to get me off your back!” She got out of the car and slammed the door behind her.
I got out and ran after her. “I can’t do cheer any more. I’m sorry!”
“That’s not true!” She turned to face me with angry tears in her eyes. “You can do anything you want! You just don’t want to do cheer! You’d rather be in a show with all your old dance friends!”
“This has nothing to do with the my old dance friends. Would you get off my back,” I snapped.
Jilly clicked her remote at the car; the horn sounded. “Fine. Consider it done.” She stormed away and didn’t look back.
Not a great way to start the day. And it only got worse from there.
In first block, Jessica, aka pot girl, cornered me.
“I hear you got a special tryout for Dream Chaser.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t feel like talking about it any more than that.
“Don’t even think you’re going to steal the lead from Chloe. She’s my understudy and she gets the lead. Not you or anybody else.” If looks could kill, Jessica’s would have just struck me dead.
“Isn’t that up to the director?” Part of me wanted to tell her that he had already given me the lead, but I wasn’t ready for the world to know.
“Yes, and he’s the one who made her my understudy. You trashed dance freshman year. Don’t think you can barge back in and take over.”
Thankfully the bell rang, and she had to go sit down, but I felt Jessica’s eyes lasered at the back of my head all through class.
By lunch it seemed the whole school knew I auditioned. I never got so many nosy looks. Jilly skipped choir and wasn’t at my locker for lunch, so I guess she was gonna be pissed for a while. I went through the lunch line alone and got my pizza and chocolate milk. Chloe and McKenna from the show walked by and looked the other way. What. Ever. I took my tray to the atrium. I reached for the door and saw a note taped from the inside.
Written on notebook paper it read. “CHEER SQUAD ONLY!”
Subtle.
I spotted Jilly and the rest of the squad inside with their backs to the door. Gee thanks! A couple of them peeked at me then looked away.
Great. So where was I supposed to eat? I took my tray back into the crowded cafeteria. I didn’t notice anyone staring, but it felt like they were. I slid my milk into my book bag, grabbed my napkin and pizza and left the tray behind. I walked down the long hall at the back of the school, past the shop classes, to the girls’ bathroom no one ever used. I ate my lunch sitting on the toilet in the handicapped stall and wondered how Twinkie was doing at the vet.
Chapter 10
The auditorium was empty when I walked in after school. I guess I was a little over eager to show up so early. Rehearsals didn’t start until five o’clock, so that kids from the other high schools had time to get there. Tyson said there were thirty-two cast members from six different Madison high schools. He cast the best singers and dancers the city had to offer. So why did he give me the lead? Maybe the brownies he ate had more than pot in them.
“Oh good, you’re here.” Tyson walked across the dimly lit stage still wearing his black leather jacket, with a scarf thrown around his neck and carrying an overstuffed shoulder bag.
His hair looked all tousled. He sauntered across the stage as if he didn’t know how good he looked. He gave me a warm smile that reached his eyes. That man sure knew how to put people at ease.
“I’m really early. I hope that’s okay.”
“I wish all my cast members were so enthusiastic.” He trotted down the steps and over to the piano. He dropped his bag onto a long table, removed his jacket and tossed it over a front row auditorium seat. “Somewhere in this mess I have your paperwork.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled out various folders and binders.
“Ah ha, here it is.” He grabbed a large bundle of papers and removed the rubber band around them. “Come on over and let’s review it.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.”
“It is. We’re treating this project as a professional show including all the waivers, rules and agreements.”
“First off is your participation agreement. Read through it tonight, sign it, have your parents sign it and bring it back tomorrow. Here is your bio form. Fill it out and return it to me by Friday. Next is your commitment agreement. It includes things like you agree to be on time, attend every rehearsal, obey all rules, you won’t cut or color your hair, no sky diving or snow boarding, etc.”
“I don’t think sky diving will be a problem.” Free falling. Not gonna happen.
“Good. You’d be surprised at the crazy stunts people pull when they are committed to a show. Our goal is to keep the cast intact and uninjured.”
Thank God! Finally someone was going out of their way to keep me safe. Yet each item he reviewed felt like another shovel of dirt burying me deeper. What the heck had I gotten myself into?
Next, he reviewed the rehearsal schedule. He set it up efficiently with no time wasted. Every other day the entire cast rehearsed, the opposite days were principals only. Each rehearsal was detailed with blocking, dance, vocals, etc. It covered the next six weeks, including when to be off book, costume fittings, the move into the Overture Center and more. He even penciled in my voice lessons. I heaved a sigh.
“As you see, we have an intense schedule. You have the unfortunate position of playing catch up on the past weeks. There’s no time to teach you separately what you missed, so you’ll need to learn it on the fly. Here is a cast list, maps to some of the off-site locations you’ll need to know, and, finally, here is your script.” He presented it like a coveted gift.
“So you wrot
e this?” I held the thick, bound script with care.
“Every word. Except the music. I wrote the lyrics, but collaborated with a genius friend of mine on the music.”
“This is amazing. You must be so excited.” I now realized how hard he must have worked to make this happen.
“It’s my baby. And this project, bringing in high school students to perform it, is a huge opportunity. Not to mention a risk. The goal is that when the show goes up, the powers that be—investors and industry people from New York—fall so in love with Dream Chaser, that they snatch it up and give it a home on Broadway.”
“And you’re trusting a bunch of high school kids to be good enough?” Holy crap, this man was nuts.
“Yup. By tapping into talented youth, untried and unpolished, I plan to feature the combination of vulnerability and heart. That’s where you, Eli, and all the others come in.”
I must have looked terrified because Tyson laughed and patted my arm.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’ve got a great director to help you.” He grinned.
“If you say so.” Trusting a bunch of kids to help him with his dream was insane.
His cell phone rang. “I’ve got to take this call, so why don’t you look over the paperwork until we’re ready to go.”
“All right.” I gathered up all the papers, found a seat further back in the auditorium and reviewed the details of my life for the next month and a half.
Deep doo doo. That’s what I was in.
Twenty minutes later, kids began to filter in, dumping their coats and bags in the auditorium. Unsure what to do, I stayed where I sat, mostly out of view at the far end. A couple kids noticed me, but said nothing as they greeted others. .
A few minutes later Tyson spoke up. “Everyone up on stage. Chloe, you can lead warm ups today.”
“Sure.” She flashed a thin-lipped smile and strutted her ultra slim body on stage; her long blonde hair flailed behind.
I heaved a deep breath. This was it, now or never. I stepped into the aisle, walked past Tyson at his director’s table and joined the others taking the stage.
“Oh yes, before we get started, I want to introduce the newest member of the cast,” Tyson said. “We are fortunate to have found Willow Thomas to help us out.”
All eyes stared at me. There I was, feeling naked and on display again.
“Many of you will know Willow from here at Capitol High or from the Davis Dance Academy. Willow will be filling Jessica’s old spot in the role of Lauren.”
The stares turned into daggers. I heard a couple gasps and then complete quiet. The silence felt like shock waves that reverberated in the hollow space as the other kids sized me up. They probably wondered who the hell I thought I was to march in and steal the lead. I gave a weak smile, not wanting to look cocky. Chloe glared and others whispered.
“So, if you don’t know Willow yet, please introduce yourselves. I trust you will all make her feel welcome and help her get up to speed.” Tyson seemed oblivious to the hostile situation.
No one said a word. Not the girls I used to dance with, not the couple of guys from Capital High.
Not even Eli.
He stood on the far end of the stage and stared the opposite direction.
I swallowed my pride and found a spot in the back to warm up where they couldn’t gawk at me.
That was the highlight of rehearsal. From there everything went downhill. Tyson had them review dances they’d been working on in an effort to help me catch up. No one slowed it down or called out the moves. Like a fish out of water, I floundered, trying to figure out the sequences with no instruction. The rehearsal turned into an eternity of humiliation. Chloe didn’t help matters any by sneering at me and spitting mean words under her breath. I guess I should have expected it.
At the end of rehearsal, as I headed for the steps down to the seats where I’d left my stuff, Chloe blocked my way with her skeletal frame.
There was no way around her, so I figured I might as well let her vent her frustrations. I didn’t blame her for being mad.
“You think you’re hot shit because Tyson gave you the lead, don’t you?” she seethed. The combination of her sharp bone structure and anger turned her ugly.
“No. I didn’t want the lead.” And I meant it.
“Oh right. Well, let me warn you. Don’t plan on stealing anything else,” she said, her face all pinched.
“What are you talking about?”
Others brushed past slowly, so they could hear the dirt.
“Don’t be an idiot. Eli’s interested in me, so don’t think you can prance in here and play all sweet and take him away.” You had your chance with him and blew it a long time ago.”
“You’re insane.” I tried to pass her, but she stepped in my path like a schoolyard bully.
“Keep your slutty little cheerleader paws off him.”
She got up in my grill, which really pissed me off.
“I don’t want Eli, you can have him.” I spat back a lot louder than I meant to. I moved to go around her, and there was...you got it...Eli.
Crap.
He took one look at me, shook his head and walked away.
The only good thing about my day; I wasn’t at cheer practice.
I went and grabbed my stuff. With my coat on and bag in hand, I watched the other kids file out in small groups. Some stayed back to joke with Tyson at the piano. Eli was nowhere to be seen.
So that’s how it was going to be. I turned and left the way I came in.
Alone.
Chapter 11
The walk home sucked. The frigid air numbed my legs. The cold turned my jeans into stiff sand paper that rubbed my legs raw. Each block the temps plummeted lower, as did my excitement for the show. My arms were frozen under the wool of my peacoat. I couldn’t feel my toes anymore. My cheeks chapped from the wind and snot froze above my lip.
I wanted so bad to call Jilly and tell her what a bunch of jerks the kids in the cast were, but Jilly is really good at holding a grudge. As much as she’d love to know how awful it was, I knew she wasn’t ready to give me the time of day.
By the time I dragged my frozen body up our porch steps, every bit of me screamed in icy agony.
The second I stepped inside the warm sauna of home, Twinkie jumped on me and nearly knocked me down. “Hey girl, how you doing? You look good to me.” I ruffled her fluffy ears, then slid out of my shoes and rushed over to the wood burner in the living room and opened the door. A blast of hot air whooshed out, and my body shivered to release the bone deep chill. I sat on the wood floor in front of it; Twinkie lay down next to me.
“What a good dog.” I sank my cold hands into her thick fur.
“Willow? Is that you?” Mom yelled from the kitchen.
“Yeah, what’s left of me anyway.”
“Come in and get some dinner. I made African peanut stew, your favorite.”
“I’m too cold to move, can you bring me some?” I yelled back.
“Okay, but only because I love you and need you to pick out a really nice nursing home for me some day.”
“Really?” I said to Twinkie. “What do you say we put her in a commune or a sweat lodge?”
“I heard that!” she yelled but still brought in a big bowl of steaming stew and a plate of homemade bread with honey butter.
“You are amazing! I take back every horrible thing I’ve ever said to you.”
“I know. You forgot to address me as Supreme Goddess of Exquisite Beauty.” Mom handed me the soup bowl and set the plate down next to me on the floor. Twinkie sniffed at the soup.
“Yeah, that too!” I held the bowl, letting the heat thaw my hands, then took a bite.
“Did you walk home?” Mom sat on the couch.
“Mmhmm,” I grunted, my mouth full. Mom made the best African stew. She put peanut butter in it. Granted it was organic low fat peanut butter, but it rocked.
“Why didn’t you catch a ride with someone from the show?�
�
“Let’s just say the other kids aren’t too excited about me showing up and taking over the lead.” I dipped a hunk of buttered bread into the stew and then my mouth. Heaven and warmth raced to my stomach.
“Oh. Jealousy is such a useless emotion,” Mom said in her singsong way.
“It didn’t seem too useless from where I stood. It’s a real pain in the ass.” It hurt to experience them turn their backs and ignore me.
“Aren’t some of the girls you used to dance with in the show? Like McKenna and Chloe?”
“They were there, but they acted like we never met.” I dipped and stuffed more stew.
“What a shame. Those kids are really missing out.” She gave me her sympathetic mom look.
I don’t think they felt they were missing out on anything. They seemed thrilled to keep me out of their loop, maybe even empowered by it.
Twinkie laid her head on my lap, and her eyes begged for food. “Not yet, I’m still eating.” I angled my bowl away from her, but on second thought took a spoonful and poured it on the hardwood floor next to us. She lapped it up, her tail wagging.
“What did the vet say about her seizure?”
“Because of her age, the vet doesn’t believe its epilepsy or a genetic seizure disorder. He said that with a six-year-old dog it could be a fluke and never happen again or might occur again in days, weeks, or years.”
“So we just wait and see?”
“Pretty much.”
I took a last bite of my bread and stew and gave the bowl to Twinkie to lick clean. I lay on the floor next to her and watched. “That was awesome. I am so full.”
“I hope you saved room for dessert,” Mom said.
I rolled my head her direction, now warm, full and content next to my dog. “Dessert?”
“How do chocolate zucchini brownies sound?”
“Not as good as Better than Sex Cake.”
“Sorry, no refined sugars in my house. And would you like to share with me your personal knowledge about sex?”
“No, I think it’s best to keep you in the dark on my sexual escapades, but I will force myself to eat your brownies.” I grinned.
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