Also by Seth Rudetsky
My Awesome/Awful Popularity Plan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2015 by Seth Rudetsky
Jacket art copyright © 2015 by Bruce Rolff
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rudetsky, Seth.
The rise and fall of a theater geek / Seth Rudetsky. — First edition.
pages cm.
Sequel to: My awesome/awful popularity plan.
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Justin Goldblatt lands a dream internship with his favorite Broadway actor, but the Big Apple comes with big trouble when his friends stop speaking to him and someone starts sabotaging his hero.
ISBN 978-0-449-81672-1 (trade pbk.) — ISBN 978-0-449-81671-4 (ebook)
[1. Broadway (New York, N.Y.)—Fiction. 2. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 3. Internship programs—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 6. Gays—Fiction. 7. Jews—United States—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.R85513Ri 2015 [Fic]—dc23 2013015904
eBook ISBN 9780449816714
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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Contents
Cover
Also by Seth Rudetsky
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedicated to all the kids (boys and girls) who are Justin Goldblatt, and the adults who were
All right, I have to admit it. I need a break from Spencer.
Not literally a breakup. More like a break(ish)-up.
Here’s the thing—I am about to go live in New York City!!! I can’t very well show up in the city of my dreams, a city filled with other sixteen-year-old boys who love theater like I do, and tell them, “Keep your Broadway show tickets. I can’t go on a date with you because I have a boyfriend back home.”
I mean, I guess I could say that, but I wouldn’t be taking advantage of everything the city has to offer me. And that’s the whole point of my time there in the first place.
See, every year in my school we have JobSkill, a two-week period where the juniors immerse themselves in what could be their future career. This has been a tradition at my high school since the sixties, when the school briefly had a hippie principal who decided homework was too “establishment,” so he adopted a “go at your own pace/do whatever you want” curriculum. The parents halfheartedly went along with his ideas until spring semester. That’s when they found out he had encouraged the juniors to go to a “be-in” instead of take their SATs and he had meticulously changed everyone’s grades on their report cards to either “Cool” or “Not Cool.” The school board called an emergency meeting and voted unanimously to fire him. Soon after, he was briefly institutionalized and is now leading a cult in Memphis.
Anyway, the one idea of his that’s remained is JobSkill. In the spring of 1969, he petitioned and got permission from the state to allow students two weeks off to experience what life would be like after high school. Or at least, that’s what he told the education board. In actuality, he called it “Jobs Kill” and told students it would be a chance for them to learn that taking any kind of a real job would destroy their souls. He claimed the only reason he had one was to “change a broken system from within,” but after he left, people realized he had become principal because it gave him access to the school greenhouse, which he used to grow hundreds of pot plants. Regardless, once the state education board approved JobSkill, the school board voted to keep it. Since then, all juniors apply in September for a two-week internship that takes place in January.
Most kids wind up at Franklin General Hospital or the big law office in Woodmere or wherever their parents work. I, however, have planned ever since elementary school to spend my two weeks as near to Broadway as I could possibly get.
Of course, I couldn’t wait till September to start applying, so last May I began researching my favorite Broadway directors, and by the time sophomore year ended, I had sent each of their agents a request to be an intern. Naturally, it wasn’t just a letter requesting an internship. I also conveniently included a forty-five-minute professional-quality DVD that featured highlights of my performing experience going all the way back to first grade when I did my shul’s Hanukkah musical and stole the show as the sassy but ultimately wise sixth menorah candle.
I was hoping that one of the directors would watch the DVD, skip the internship request, and immediately ask me to be in one of their shows. Unfortunately, I should have done more research because when I finally heard back from their agents (months later!), I found out that one director was now based in Europe, another was directing at a regional theater in Southern California, and the third was working on a television show. The most frustrating part is that all three of my DVDs were returned, and I could tell they had never been opened! Argh! How was I going to get to Broadway?
Then, out of the blue in early September, my dad mentioned that one of his patients, Irving Perlman, had a daughter named Sophia who recently started a theatrical publicity firm with her two college best friends called Big Noise Media. Mr. Perlman put in the good word for me and I called the next morning. Lou, their office manager/accountant/executive assistant, was so appreciative that I was willing to intern, because they really needed help, and he was thrilled with the idea of having an intern who loved Broadway as much as I did. He told me I’d be answering phone calls, forwarding emails, and scheduling publicity events.
I was disappointed to learn that the firm only represented a few shows and they were all off-Broadway, but at least I’d be in New York City working in theater! Yes, I wanted to be working inside an actual theater, but I’m only sixteen. I told myself I’d be getting my foot in the door and who knew where it could lead! I didn’t see exactly how it could happen, but I hoped that by the end of the internship, I’d somehow be performing on a Broadway stage. Sure, it was incredibly far-fetched, but not impossible. I began to get more and more excited and kept telling myself that there were very few steps between interning off-Broadway and performing on Broadway.
Then in mid-December, everything changed.
Spencer and I went into New York City to see a matinee. I remember thinking that he looked extra adorable that day. He had put some new cruelty-free product in his orange hair that made it look tous
led yet perfectly styled, and he wore one of his signature New York Civil Liberties Union shirts (with the slogan YOU HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO REMAIN SILENT) tucked into his organic denim jeans, which showed off his always-flat stomach. I, because of our completely different body types, had my shirt untucked. And, due to eight days of Hanukkah snacking, I had recently been forced to add an extra notch to my belt. Furthermore, like Spencer, I had put a new product in my hair that morning, but instead of straightening out my tight, uncontrollable curls as I intended, it simply fluffed out my entire head of hair. So, even though Spencer is much taller than me, we both blocked the people sitting behind us equally, he with his natural height and me with my extended Jewfro.
We were seeing Phantom of the Opera because it’s my December tradition. Phantom (as insiders call it) was the first musical I ever saw (when I was five), and I go back every year to commemorate the anniversary of my Broadway obsession. Spencer and I went to the half-price ticket booth in Times Square and wound up getting great seats in the orchestra section. Right after the chandelier did its famous fall at the end of Act One, the lights came on for intermission, and I suddenly spotted Chase Hudson sitting two rows ahead of us! Ah! If you don’t know, he was one of the stars of Vicious Tongues, a weekly soap about a college dorm where everyone is gorgeous and dating each other while gossiping nonstop. Chase played the student on a full athletic scholarship who’s always on the verge of being kicked out because of his alcoholism. Chase dated a different girl each week on the TV show (and in real life).
I DVR’d every episode and belonged to the official fan site and at least three unofficial ones. The one positive part about the show being canceled is that my weeklong black outfit of mourning not only conveyed my devastation but also served to mask the six pounds I had packed on due to a family cruise to Bermuda and a certain all-you-can-eat dessert bar. I came out of my depression when I read an article announcing a spin-off called Wicked Words, but I spiraled downward again when it said that Chase wouldn’t be involved.
Imagine my excitement a few weeks later when I read that Chase wasn’t doing Wicked Words because he was coming to Broadway in a brand-new musical called Thousand-Watt Smile!
I could tell Chase was trying to look anonymous by wearing a baseball cap, but I’d recognize him anywhere. As soon as I saw him, I got out of my seat and started moving toward the aisle.
“Where are you going?” asked Spencer as I took a giant step over his legs.
“Chase Hudson is sitting up there,” I whispered, and pointed. “I have to say hello!” I started squeezing down the aisle again but had to wait for an elderly lady to slowly move her cane out of the way.
“Do you know him?” asked Spencer, confused.
I turned around and smiled. “Not yet, but he’s going to star in Thousand-Watt Smile! We’re going to be peers!”
I was about to step over the old lady’s cane when Spencer tapped me on the back and asked, “Peers? How? Aren’t you just interning at a publicity firm?”
Typical. Spencer always throws the cold water of reality into my face. I turned around. “Exactly. A publicity firm that handles shows in New York City. He’s going to be in a show in New York City!” Spencer was about to speak again, so I waved my hand in the air dismissively. “Peers, coworkers, equals, call it what you will. It’d be rude if I didn’t introduce myself.”
I turned back toward the aisle, but Spencer’s voice forced me to turn around again. “I don’t know, Justin. I’ve read that stars don’t like to be disturbed. I know you’re a fan. Why don’t you wait and see if your boss can introduce you somehow?”
I paused for a moment to actually consider what Spencer said. He did have a point, but I knew the firm I was interning at was small potatoes at best. There’s no way anyone there knew Chase. And what if I spent my whole internship in the city doing busy work at the publicist’s office and never got near any actor at all? This could be my only chance to meet a big star face to face. I looked toward the aisle and saw that the old lady had finally lifted her cane. I took that as my cue to quickly squeeze down the row, but in doing so, I stepped on her Playbill and ripped the cover. “Sorry,” I called back over my shoulder and saw that the cane she had lifted out of the aisle was now over her head and being angrily shaken at me. I hightailed it to row C. As I approached, a very blond, very tanned man who looked vaguely familiar stood up and blocked my path. “Sorry. No autographs.”
Why the H would I want his autograph?
“That’s OK,” I said, trying to politely elbow past him. “I’m actually interested in his autograph.”
However, before I could enter the row, the blond stepped in front of me again. “Very funny, kid. Chase doesn’t give autographs.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I’m his assistant.”
Aha! That’s why I recognized him. There were always photos of him in the background whenever People or Entertainment Weekly featured a candid shot, but I had never really taken in his frighteningly overtanned face. And, I might add upon closer inspection, dark roots.
“Oh well,” I said casually, and pretended to start leaving. Right when I was about to turn back around and make a mad dash past him to thrust my Playbill in Chase’s face, I heard Chase!
“I’ll give him an autograph. Why not?”
Ah! He sounded exactly the way he did on Vicious Tongues. Masculine and tough yet friendly. Whoa! He was even more gorgeous up close. Wavy brown hair poking out from underneath his cap, huge green eyes, and just a little stubble around his pouting mouth. And even though he was pretty old (he just turned thirty!), he looked like a college kid. He beckoned me forward and the blond slo-o-o-owly stepped aside. I decided to be friendly, though, and held out my hand to him.
“I’m Justin,” I said.
He considered a moment and then responded. “Oo-bare,” he said, while barely shaking my hand.
“Huh?” What’s Oo-bare? How are you? in some other language?
Chase laughed. “Oo-bare. That’s his name. It’s spelled Hubert but pronounced the French way.”
Oh, I thought. Then, Why? “Are you from France?” I asked.
The slight shake of the head I received from Hubert indicated he wasn’t a French native. But the glare that accompanied it indicated he was well versed in their ability to convey deep disdain.
I ignored him and handed my Playbill to Chase, along with the trusty Sharpie that I always carry for emergency autographs.
“Sorry for the rigmarole,” he said as he signed. “Vicious Tongues has some psycho fans and Hubert was just trying to protect me.”
Wow! Chase thought I wasn’t a psycho fan? Well, that’s a testament to my acting.
“I’m looking forward to working with you, Mr. Hudson!” I said, exaggerating a little.
“Aw, call me Chase,” he said as he handed back my Playbill. Then, “Wait. Working with me? Where?”
Specifics? Uh-oh. “Well, not exactly. But I’m sure we’ll be running in the same circles.” I lowered my voice in an I-don’t-want-to-brag way. “I’m going to be on the staff of a big New York theatrical publicity firm.”
He looked confused. “Aren’t you a little young to be on a publicist’s staff?”
“Well,” I said, stalling, “I’m not exactly on the staff. It’s complicated….” I faded out and used the awkward silence to listen to Spencer’s voice in my head telling me to stop trying to make it sound better than it was. I took a deep breath. “I’m in high school, and starting in January, I’ll be doing an internship for Big Noise Media, which is an off-Broadway publicity firm.”
“Oh!” he said. “You want to be a publicist?”
“No!” I said, a little too loudly. “I want to be an actor. On Broadway,” I specified. “As a matter of fact, this is my tenth time seeing Phantom.”
“Wow!” he said with a smile. “This is my first. I’m trying to see as many shows as I can before my Broadway debut. This is my day off from rehearsals.”
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“Chase!” Hubert interrupted, willing me to go with his eyes. “Act Two is about to begin.”
“Well, nice meeting you—” Chase began, but I cut him off.
“I’m sure it’s a big deal to you since Broadway’s been your dream ever since you played Sky Masterson in summer camp.”
He looked at me with a shocked how-can-you-read-my-thoughts? expression.
I then explained, “I read your interview on Playbill.com.” He looked visibly relieved. “Stephen Sondheim is my hero, too.”
He seemed impressed. “He’s the best, isn’t he?”
“I have all of his shows on my iPod. Including both revivals of Sweeney Todd!”
“Me too!”
“Chase!” Hubert said, barging into the conversation.
I ignored him. “I’m here with my boyfriend, Spencer, and I’ve turned him into somewhat of a Sondheim fanatic, too.”
“Boyfriend?” he asked. “Wow. No one was gay back in my high school.”
“I bet they were, but you just didn’t know it!”
He laughed. “How old are you, Justin?” he asked.
“Sixteen.”
He nodded and spoke quietly. “Sixteen. Things sure are different from when I was your age.”
I bet! “But they’re also the same,” he continued. “That’s how old I was when I first got into theater.” He looked away with a dreamy smile. “I wish I could have done an internship in New York.”
Hubert barged back in. “Nice meeting you,” he said while putting his arm around me and pushing me toward the aisle. I ducked under his arm and turned back to Chase because I knew this might be the last chance I actually got to speak with him. “Mr. Hudson, I may be stuck in the publicist’s office the whole time I’m here, but I hope that somehow I get a chance to watch you rehearse.” Then, “I’m sure you’ll be amazing in the part. Brilliant!”
The Rise and Fall of a Theater Geek Page 1