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The bell rang, letting me know that I couldn’t delay it any longer.
It was go time.
My stomach lurched like I’d swallowed a hive of angry bees, but I made myself turn the handle and push the wide double doors open.
Walking into the auditorium that day was like slipping into a different world. A darker, dustier world that smelled like wax and old fabric and something else I couldn’t name.
The cavernous room was dominated by a wide wooden stage framed in thick red curtains. Spotlights suspended on black metal rods beamed down from a sort of track on the ceiling. Sheets of uncut plywood rested against a dark blue backdrop.
I spotted Mrs. Cobb standing in front of the audience seating. She was referring to a clipboard and pointing toward the stage. The first few rows in front of her were filled with students—most of whom I recognized from class. Others were moving around, testing the stage and practicing their lines. I saw a few kids lounging casually on the side stairs. I guessed these were the more comfortable thespians. They all had that ease about them that comes from being confident in your own territory.
Not me. I was still frozen by the door.
Speaking of the door, I felt it moving behind me and jumped out of the way.
Miles walked in with his lips moving and his eyes half-shut. When he saw me, he stopped and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was running lines.”
I swallowed. “No, I was in the way. I’m just hanging back watching it all.”
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?”
That was one way to put it. “Yeah.”
“Are you ready?” he asked, herding me toward everyone else.
I glanced nervously to the stage then back to the door. “Umm… as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I know theater isn’t your thing, but remember that My Fair Lady has a chorus. You should be able to hide in the back.”
That wasn’t exactly a comfort.
My face must have told him this because he swung his arm across my shoulder and added, “I meant way, way, waa-aay in the back.”
A seedling of hope sprouted in my chest. “Like backstage, where no one will even know I exist?”
“Nice try,” Miles said with a laugh. “What have you prepared? I was going to start with Puck’s monologue from A Midsummer Night’s Dream but the more I think about it, I need to sell my voice. So, I’m doing ‘God That’s Good’ from Sweeney Todd.” He lifted his hand to show me a USB card. “I brought the music with me.”
Of course he did.
“I think I’m going to follow up the song with ‘The Offer’ monologue so Mrs. Cobb can get a better picture in the part of Professor Higgins.”
“Wait. We were supposed to prepare two things?” I screeched, panicking.
“You don’t have to, but it’s always good to have a fallback in case she wants to see you flex your acting chops on the fly.”
“I don’t have any chops to flex,” I assured him.
“Well, maybe you could do the ‘They Done Her In’ monologue? It’s comedic and I’m sure you’ve seen the Audrey Hepburn version of the musical before, haven’t you?”
I had watched it with my mom and loved it, but before I could tell Miles this, I spotted Henry standing at the back of the auditorium surrounded by a few other seniors. When he saw me notice him, he tilted his body forward, said something to his friends, and made his way over to where Miles and I were.
“What are you doing here?” I asked with genuine surprise. “You aren’t auditioning are you? Is this like a track team hazing ritual that I don’t know about?”
“Seniors don’t get hazed.”
“You know what I mean.”
He chuckled. “I do. And, no, I’m not auditioning. I got recruited to work on the backdrops. It’s extra credit for my carpentry elective.”
That made more sense. “So someone leaked the fact that you’re a pro with a drill?”
“Did you sell me out?” he asked with a teasing smile.
“My lips are sealed.” I mimicked pulling a zipper across my mouth.
He laughed and knocked his hip against mine. “So, Care, do you feel re—”
“Hi, I’m Miles. I don’t think we’ve had the chance to meet,” Miles said, stepping in between us and holding out his hand.
Like, for real. Who does that?
Henry didn’t miss a beat though. His easy smile held as he shook Miles’ hand. “Henry Vaughn.”
“I know who you are.”
That made sense. Everyone knew Henry. Or, at least, everyone wanted to know Henry.
Trying to smooth any awkwardness over, I told Miles, “Henry is my best friend’s brother.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “That’s right. Hannah is your sister.”
“She is.”
“So, I guess if you’re stage crew, we’ll be seeing a lot of you around here?” Miles continued.
“Looks like it,” Henry said coolly, before turning back to me. “When it’s over, I’ll be waiting for you backstage.”
“Mm-kay, thanks.”
“Oh, and Care?”
“Yeah?”
Henry winked as he walked backwards. “Break a leg.” And then he turned around, allowing me to enjoy the view.
Mrs. Cobb clapped her hands, making my stomach plunge. “Hello, Actors!”
Miles grabbed my arm and pulled me into a row.
“It’s wonderful to see so many new faces for auditions. As most of you already know, we are doing My Fair Lady for the fall production this year.” Mrs. Cobb paused before launching into some basic stage instructions. Then she took a seat at the front and started calling names from a list.
“Are you okay?” Miles whispered from behind his hand.
My legs were bouncing up and down so much that the whole row was shaking. I pressed my sweaty palms flat down on my thighs in an attempt to stifle the jumpiness.
“No,” I admitted. I was so not okay. “There’s a very real possibility that I am going to puke all over the front row.”
“Should I scoot back?” he joked.
“I might even hit the second row.”
“Then way in the back it is.”
“This is going to be bad. So bad,” I muttered.
“You’ll be fine,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “You don’t care whether or not you get a part so what do you have to lose?”
I squinted. “Strangely, that actually does make me feel a little better.”
“Good because you’re up.”
“What?”
Miles nodded. “You’re up.”
I lifted my head and saw that he was right. Everyone was looking at me.
“Sorry,” I murmured and stood.
My feet felt like they were weighted down with cement blocks as I ascended the stage steps. I had to force one foot in front of the other and pause between steps to keep my balance. It was an agonizingly slow process.
Once on stage, I turned to face the auditorium and realized that like this, I couldn’t even see anybody in the crowd. I knew they were all still there, but with the glare of white-hot lights in my eyes, it was easier to pretend that they weren’t.
I heard Mrs. Cobb call out, “Which song are you doing?”
This week in class, we’d had a chance to listen to the music from My Fair Lady and watched a recording of the show as it was done on Broadway.
I didn’t want to audition but, at the end of the day, it was part of my grade and I wasn’t about to fail the class because I was too stubborn to prepare, so I’d randomly picked a song and even practiced it in the shower a few times, but now that I was up here my mind drew a blank. I had seen the musical a hundred times, but I couldn’t remember the lyrics.
“Uhh… I’ll be doing...um...a song by Ed Sheeran,” I said, trying to look through the lights.
“Wonderful,” Mrs. Cobb said in a slightly surprised tone. I supposed that it was an unusual choice.
Everyone else had sung a Broadway classic. “I’m afraid we don’t have the music for you.”
“It’s okay. I can sing it a capella.”
“Well then, go on.” She said reassuringly.
For a moment, it was just me standing alone on an empty stage, surrounded by the lights and the gaping quiet. Little pinpricks of nervous energy tickled me from the inside out, but I closed my eyes, let go of a long breath, and reminded myself that none of this mattered.
Earlier, Miles had been right. It’s not like I wanted to land a part so who cared if I made a fool of myself?
It was one song. Just three minutes of my life and I could be done with all of this.
I stepped forward and opened my mouth, half-expecting no sound to come out, but I surprised even myself.
I was no Julie Andrews or Idina Menzel, but I wasn’t completely tone deaf. My mother played the piano and she’d given me lessons from the time I was seven until she got sick. I was depending on that background to get me through this song. I may not have known how to belt it out like Beyonce or shake it like Taylor Swift, but I knew a few things about music.
When I finished, I heard spotty clapping from the audience.
Well, at least it hadn’t been the horrifying disaster I’d anticipated. I was rusty and raw but I wasn’t the worst person who’d auditioned. I took a small bow and said, “Thanks.”
Feeling much lighter than I had just a few minutes earlier, I turned and headed for the stairs.
Mrs. Cobb’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “Caroline, do you have a monologue ready?”
I looked back and blinked at the lights. “I… No, I didn’t think I needed one.”
“Then let’s get a script for you. I’d like to hear you read.”
“No, that’s okay,” I started to protest.
“It’s not okay,” Mrs. Cobb persisted. I heard papers being shuffled. “Does anyone have a script we can use?”
“Actually… I guess I do have something,” I said haltingly. “But it’s not a monologue. It’s a scene with two people. Would that work?”
“That’s fine. What are the parts?”
“Duckie and Andie.”
“From what production?”
“Uh… Pretty in Pink.”
Someone in the audience laughed and I cringed. Maybe this was a stupid idea but it was all I could come up with.
“The movie?” Mrs. Cobb asked.
“Yeah, it’s… a… um, cult classic.”
That was the category that most of my favorite movies fell into.
When you grow up a redhead who gets picked on and asked obnoxious questions like, Does the carpet match the drapes? and, Aren’t redheads direct descendents of Satan? you tend to look for inspiration where you can find it. In my case, Ed Sheeran, Princess Merida from Brave, any of the Weasleys, and, of course, Molly Ringwald.
My mom had introduced me to Pretty in Pink when I was eleven, giving birth to my obsession with Molly Ringwald and eighties teen movies . The Breakfast Club… Say Anything… Sixteen Candles… Some Kind of Wonderful… Ferris Bueller’s Day Off… Heathers… I’d seen them all, but Pretty and Pink remained my favorite. I was pretty sure I could recite the entire movie from memory.
“You can’t do this and respect yourself,” I launched into one of my favorite scenes. In it, Duckie has just found out that his longtime crush is going out with someone else. He’s awkwardly heartbroken and uncomfortable in his own skin. Yep, I could pretend to be all of that.
When I was done, Mrs. Cobb said, “What about a cockney accent? Do you think you could manage it?”
I could actually. How many times had Hannah and I played around with British accents in the months leading up to her departure?
“Aw, I fink I can, though I’d have to ‘ear it some more to be fer sure ‘bout it,” I said in my best version of the accent.
“Great! That’ll be all, Caroline.”
Relief flooded me.
I hadn’t vomited. I hadn’t fainted or had a seizure or anything like that.
“You didn’t suck,” Henry whispered, coming up behind me as I walked down the steps.
I looked over my shoulder. “Thanks?”
“I’m serious.”
“I didn’t realize you were watching the whole time.”
“Like I would miss the chance to see you on stage,” he said.
“Well, I’m just happy I didn’t puke.”
“Little successes,” he said, smiling.
“Exactly.” I took a deep breath. “And, you know what?”
“What?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I admitted with a shrug. “Maybe a part in the chorus could be… you know… fun. I haven’t sung like that since—well, since my mom died. She played the piano and she loved all this stuff and being up there like that… I sort of liked it.”
Henry grabbed one of my loose ringlets and gently tugged on it like he was ringing a bell. “So did I.”
To: Hannah
From: Caroline
Date: September 16
Subject: It’s over!
Guess who has two thumbs and didn’t throw up while on stage?
____________
To: Caroline
From: Hannah
Date: September 16
Subject: Re: It’s over!
Ummmm… I’m not sure. I’m going to need some more information than that ;)
Hannah
PS: I TOLD YOU SO!
____________
To: Hannah
From: Caroline
Date: September 16
Subject: Re: Re: It’s over!
It was even sort of fun. I ended up singing Lego House and doing a scene from Pretty in Pink on top of the song. So, maybe that was a teeny tiny bit weird.
____________
To: Caroline
From: Hannah
Date: September 16
Subject: Weirdo
Ya think?
____________
****
Over the past few weeks, I’d actually started to form a new Hannah-less routine. Wake up, check my email to see if she’d sent anything new overnight, then shower and spend a few minutes staring at my closet hoping my clothes would jump out and do the job themselves. After settling on a plain shirt and boring jeans, I’d plod down the stairs, grab a granola bar or something from the kitchen, feed Aspen, and then, just before eight, there’d be a knock at my door. I’d answer and Henry would be standing there, usually holding a pumpkin spice latte in his hands.
Friday morning started like any other. I didn’t hear Dad moving around the house, which either meant he’d left early for a job or he was still locked in his bedroom because he didn’t have one today. A quick glance out my window to locate his truck in the driveway proved that he was still in the house. He just didn’t want to talk to me.
Right on schedule, I heard a knock. Not bothering to call out a goodbye to Dad, I scooped up my backpack and slipped out the door.
“Morning,” Henry said, handing me a cup.
“Morning,” I responded, grasping the warm coffee with both of my hands and inhaling the delicious aroma. “Ah, you’re my hero.”
“And I didn’t even have to save you from a burning building.”
I laughed.
I was starting to like this routine.
Henry and I talked the whole way to school. Without Hannah, our rides had been weird and filled with silence at first, but now our conversation came easily. I’d known Henry Vaughn for most of my life, but never like this. He’d always been “Hannah’s brother” to me, sitting on a pedestal almost like some mythological creature. But now he was… I don’t know… almost like a friend. A friend who I liked to look at more than I probably should.
We arrived at school and he held the door for me as we entered
the building.
“Caroline!”
I turned toward the voice. Miles was rushing down the hall to get to me, pushing past people who were digging around their lockers.
“I wonder what he wants,” Henry mumbled.
“Congrats!” Miles said, grabbing my arm excitedly.
“What is it?”
“The cast list…” His grin stretched from ear to ear like an amped-up version of The Cheshire Cat. That should have been my first clue.
“Oh…” Other than filling Hannah in, I honestly hadn’t given much thought to the audition in the past forty-eight hours. I’d done it. It had gone okay. Time to move on. “Did I get a part?”
Miles cackled. “Did you get a part?”
I met Henry’s eyes. He shook his head in confusion.
“Yes! Caroline, you got the part of Eliza,” Miles said slowly.
I felt all the blood drain from my face. “Huh?”
“You’re the lead. You’re Eliza Doolittle.”
Henry blinked. “Wow. Congratulations.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “No… There’s been a mistake.”
“No mistake. The cast list was posted this morning,” Miles said. “I’ll show you.”
I let myself be pulled toward C Hall and through the group of students standing around a bulletin board outside of Mrs. Cobb’s classroom. When I looked up, it was there in black and white.
Cast List
Professor Higgins……………..Miles Sloan
Eliza Doolittle………………..Caroline McKain
Colonel Hugh Pickering…….Matt Riley
Alfred Doolittle………………..Sam Gleason
I couldn’t even read the rest of the list. I just stared, dumbfounded at the second line. This kind of stuff just didn’t happen. No way. Maybe it did in bad Disney movies, but not to real people in real life.
“Wow,” Henry said again. So, he had followed Miles and me.
“I think I need glasses,” I said in a tiny voice.
He chuckled. “You’re not seeing things.”
“There’s just no way…”
I considered reaching up to rip the cast list off of the bulletin board. I’d tear it to shreds and we could all pretend this never happened. Or maybe I should dig out a black sharpie from my bag and scribble “are you insane?” above my name.
Steering the Stars Page 10