‘Oh, hello!’ Gwen affected a surprised tone. Then she added, ‘I have to apologize for my little sister, who answered the phone. She’s not always dealing with a full deck.’
Mel chuckled. ‘That’s all right. I just wanted to let you know that you’ve been cast in The King and I.’
‘I have?’ Gwen squealed, forgetting all about disguising her voice. ‘That’s great!’
‘The first rehearsal for you will be this Thursday evening at seven p.m.’
‘Will Nicholas Blade be there?’
‘I’m sure he will,’ Mel replied. ‘He’s already been rehearsing for two weeks.’
‘Great!’ Gwen closed her eyes and imagined the handsome star sitting in one of those canvas chairs with his name printed on the back, a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head.
‘Now, remember,’ Mel continued, ‘Thursday, downstairs at the theatre. Be on time, and wear comfortable clothes. ‘Bye now.’
‘Wait!’ Gwen yelled into the phone but it was too late. All she heard was a dial tone. The stage manager hung up before she’d had a chance to ask her if the rest of the gang had made it into the play.
Gwen hung up the phone and turned to see her older brother Danny leaning against the doorframe, with his arms crossed and a superior smile on his face. He was tall and skinny as a rake, with black, slicked-back hair and square, dark-framed glasses. Danny spent most of his time at the library and looked just like what he was, the senior class brain.
‘How long have you been standing there?’ Gwen demanded.
‘Long enough to witness your entire performance.’ Danny shook his head. He imitated her pretending to call herself and running in place by the phone. ‘That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.’
Normally her brother’s needling got to her, but not today. Gwen looked him straight in the eye and said airily, ‘That performance, plus my superior musical talents, has just won me a part at the Carousel Dinner Theatre.’ She added casually, ‘I’ll be co-starring with Nicholas Blade.’
‘Nicholas Blade?’ Her brother dropped his arms to his side, a startled look on his face.
‘That’s right,’ Gwen replied, reaching for another cookie. ‘You remember him, don’t you? The famous TV star?’
Danny squinted at her suspiciously. ‘You’re kidding.’ Then he added, less confidently, ‘Aren’t you?’
Gwen shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Show up on opening night, and we’ll see who’s kidding.’
From the dazzled look on her brother’s face, she could tell that he was not just impressed, but very impressed. This was Gwen’s moment of triumph and she knew it. ‘Maybe, if you’re nice, I can get an autograph for you.’
Before he could say a word, Gwen swept grandly through the living room and into her bedroom. As soon as she had shut the door behind her, and she knew no one could see her, Gwen jumped up and down in a circle, hugging herself and squealing, ‘I got it! I got it!’
Just as quickly, she stopped. ‘What if I’m the only one of us in the play?’ Gwen murmured out loud. ‘I’ll have to be singing and dancing with complete strangers on a stage in front of hundreds of people.’ She shuddered at the thought. ‘That would be awful!’ Gwen snatched up the pink Princess phone and quickly dialled a number.
‘Reed residence, Zan speaking,’ a familiar soft voice answered.
Gwen got right to the point. ‘Zan, it’s Gwen. I’m in the play. Are you?’
‘Yes!’ Zan shouted in her ear. ‘Mel just called to tell me. Isn’t it truly wonderful?’
‘Fantastic!’ Gwen bellowed, not caring whether her brother heard her enthusiasm. ‘I was afraid I’d have to go it alone.’
‘I’m so glad you called. I was too nervous to phone you. I wonder if the rest of the gang made it in?’
‘Hang up!’ Gwen ordered. ‘And let’s call them. You take Rocky, and I’ll call McGee and Mary Bubnik.’
The girls slammed down their phones without even saying goodbye. Zan flopped across the green-and-white quilt covering her brass bed and punched in Rocky’s number. Although the rest of her parents’ house was ultra modern, Zan had insisted on having an old-fashioned bedroom. Little white lace pillows were neatly arranged along the headboard. She hugged one to her chest as she listened to the phone ring.
‘Yeah?’
It was one of Rocky’s brothers. Zan could hear the television playing at full volume in the background. ‘May I speak to Rocky, please?’ she asked politely.
‘Yo, Rocky. It’s for you.’ Rocky’s brother yelled so loudly that Zan had to hold the phone away from her ear.
‘Who is it?’ Zan heard Rocky shout back in the distance.
‘Your friend,’ he bellowed.
‘Which one?’
‘I didn’t know you had more than one,’ her brother retorted.
‘Ask who it is, Michael,’ Rocky shouted.
‘Look, I’m not your secretary.’ There was a loud clunking sound as Michael dropped the phone to the floor. Zan heard pounding footsteps as Rocky’s voice shouted, ‘What did you do that for, you jerk?’
‘My arm was getting tired,’ Michael drawled.
Before Rocky could get into a shouting match with her brother, Zan yelled, ‘Rocky, it’s Zan. Pick up the phone.’
‘Zan? Sorry about Michael. He’s a total slime, but I was trying to watch Nicholas Blade, Private Eye.’
‘Is it on now?’ Zan said, checking the slim gold watch on her wrist.
‘Yeah, they just rolled the opening titles. Now they’re showing some dumb deodorant commercial so we have a minute to talk.’
‘I just wanted to see if you got cast in The King and I.’
‘Sure,’ Rocky replied. ‘And so did everybody else.’
‘Even Mary Bubnik?’
‘Yeah. I guess not being able to sing on-key or walk straight didn’t matter.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘I asked. Hey, Nick’s back on. Catch you later.’
Zan winced as Rocky banged her phone down on its hook. She stared at the receiver and shook her head. ‘Doesn’t anyone say goodbye any more?’
Gwen called McGee and the two girls didn’t say a word, they just squealed for a full minute. Then Gwen said, ‘I have to call Mary Bubnik. I’ll talk to you later.’
When Mary Bubnik heard the good news she shouted, ‘I just can’t believe it! Me and Nicholas Blade together on the same stage, in the same theatre, singing the same songs –’
‘Hopefully in the same key,’ Gwen murmured under her breath.
Mary didn’t hear her remark but continued, ‘My mom is so excited, she’s already talking about buying me some new outfits.’
Gwen stuck her hand in the cookie jar, then stopped. ‘I’m starting a whole new diet just for Nicholas,’ she announced dramatically. ‘I’m cutting out Twinkies completely.’
Mary was suitably impressed. Twinkies were Gwen’s favourite food. The two girls talked about what they would wear to the first rehearsal, and what they would say to Nicholas Blade when they first met him.
Suddenly Mary Bubnik giggled. ‘I just thought of something. ‘
‘What?’
‘Now that we’re all in the play, it’s not The King and I any more.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘The King and Us!’
Panic!
by Antonia Barber
‘DID YOU SEE her face,’ asked Jodie gleefully, ‘when Mrs Martin said I was doing the solo?’
‘She did look a bit fed up,’ said Hannah.
‘Fed up? She was furious! She was so sure she’d get it.’
It was a warm spring evening and they were walking home from ballet class. There were daffodils in the park and pink blossom on the trees. But all Jodie could see was the angry face of Kelly Johnson.
Hannah sighed: she wished the two would stop quarrelling.
Jodie heard her sigh and said, ‘I know it should have been you really. You’re the best dancer.’
�
�No, I’m not,’ said Hannah quickly.
‘Yes, you are. You got a Distinction in the grade exam and Kelly and me only got Highly Commended.’
Hannah shrugged; she felt quite guilty about that.
‘Only you couldn’t do it, could you?’ Jodie went on. ‘You’d be hopeless dancing solo in front of all the parents.’
‘Yes,’ said Hannah. She wished Jodie would talk about something else.
An only child, Hannah had always been painfully shy. When she was four her mother, worried by a daughter who hid behind chairs when visitors came, decided to take her along to the local dancing class. ‘It’ll get her used to being with other kids,’ she told her friends, ‘otherwise I’ll have problems when she starts school.’ And it had worked because Hannah loved the dancing. ‘Took to it like a duck to water,’ said her mother proudly. ‘The teacher says she’s got a gift . . . could be a real dancer one day!’
Only I never will be, thought Hannah, because however well I dance, I just can’t do it in front of an audience.
About two weeks later, Hannah noticed that Jodie was limping. It was only a very tiny limp and she seemed to be pretending that it wasn’t there.
But Sharon, Kelly’s best mate, spotted it. ‘Hurt your foot, have you, Jodie?’ she asked eagerly.
‘No!’ said Jodie quickly and then, ‘Well I sort of sprained it . . . but it’s better now.’
She watched as Sharon hurried off to report to Kelly. ‘They’re like vultures,’ she told Hannah fiercely, ‘waiting for me to drop out so that Kelly can take my place!’
‘When did you sprain your ankle?’ asked Hannah.
‘I didn’t,’ said Jodie crossly, ‘I just said that.’
‘So what is it?’
‘Well . . . the thing is . . . I’ve got this verruca under my foot . . . only I don’t want them to know.’
Hannah could see why. A sprained ankle had a sort of glamour; even a ballerina might get a sprain. But a verruca just made you a joke.
‘Will it be better in time for the show?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jodie. ‘But if I can’t do it, it’s not going to be Miss Smarty-Pants Kelly!’
‘Who else is there?’ said Hannah doubtfully.
‘There’s you,’ said Jodie. ‘If I can’t do it, you’re going to have to dance the solo.’
And when Hannah protested, she added, ‘You’re my friend, see, and you can’t let me down!’
Hannah was dancing before a vast audience of parents . . . but when she tried to lift her foot it wouldn’t move . . . she felt like a puppet with broken strings . . . her knees went all over the place and the parents were beginning to laugh at her . . . She woke suddenly in a cold sweat and realized that it was just another nightmare. I’ll never be able to do it, she thought. I don’t care what Jodie says. Mrs Martin will know that I can’t, I told her before . . .
What Jodie didn’t know was that the ballet teacher had already offered the solo to Hannah, before she gave it to Jodie. She had called at the house to talk to Hannah and her mother.
‘I know you’re a bit shy,’ she said, ‘but you did so well in the grade exam, I would like the parents to see how well you dance.’
‘Oh, she’s always been shy,’ said Hannah’s mother. ‘She used to hide behind chairs when we had visitors.’ She laughed cheerfully. Her daughter’s shyness seemed to her just a fact of life, as much a part of her as her hair colour or her dark eyes.
Mrs Martin saw it differently. ‘Young children are often shy,’ she said, ‘but with the right help they can grow out of it.’
But Hannah would not be persuaded. She knew she could never do the solo and in any case Jodie had set her heart on it.
But now it was different. Now Jodie wanted her to do it . . . and she wouldn’t take No for an answer.
‘We’ll get to ballet class early,’ she said, ‘and ask Mrs Martin if you can do it instead of me. I’m sure she’ll let you.’
Hannah knew that Mrs Martin would be delighted and the thought terrified her. But she could see no way out. Jodie was relying on her. If I let her down, thought Hannah, she might not be my best friend any more. She imagined having no one to walk to school with, no one to talk to in the playground . . . Life would be unbearable.
So she went to class early with Jodie and sure enough Mrs Martin gave her the solo. Kelly wasn’t pleased and Hannah felt sorry for her until she heard her arguing with Jodie.
‘Hannah’s a better dancer than you . . .’ Jodie was saying.
‘She’s better than you too,’ retorted Kelly, ‘only she’s got no bottle. Everyone knows that. One look at the audience and she’ll be shaking like a jelly!’
‘No, she won’t!’ said Jodie indignantly.
‘So you’d better not,’ she warned Hannah, ‘otherwise Kelly will gloat and I shall look a right idiot!’
Hannah had no problems learning the dance. She practised with Jodie until every step was perfect. When the costumes were ready she began to enjoy it. In a pink tutu decorated with rosebuds, she felt like a real ballerina . . . except, of course, that there was no audience. Whenever she thought of the parents, sitting in rows, all staring at her, watching for every little mistake, then her courage failed her. On the night before the concert she couldn’t get to sleep. When she did, the nightmare came back and she woke with catcalls and laughter ringing in her ears.
In the changing room, dressing for the performance, she put on the pink tutu and felt like a complete fraud. The others were all chattering cheerfully as they preened in front of the mirror. But Hannah’s hands were trembling and she felt suddenly sick.
‘Are you OK?’ asked one of the kinder girls. ‘You look awfully white.’
The pity in her voice was more than Hannah could bear. She rushed into one of the loos and threw up. Leaning against the door while the sick feeling passed, she could hear anxious voices outside. ‘She’ll never make it . . . She always gets in a panic . . .’ When she came out they stared at her wide-eyed. ‘Shall we get Mrs Martin?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘Just leave me alone,’ she said. ‘I’ll be better in a minute.’
But no one believed her. She didn’t believe it herself.
I have to find Jodie, she thought, and tell her that I can’t do it. She’ll understand. She’ll see I’m not well . . .
Jodie was helping Mrs Martin to get the groups of dancers on and off the stage, but when Hannah arrived backstage there was no sign of her. A crowd of younger dancers rushed past, laughing and excited, on their way back to the changing rooms. Everyone else seems to enjoy it, thought Hannah miserably. Why am I the only one who panics?
A group of girls in the wings began to move on to the stage. As their music began Mrs Martin caught sight of Hannah. ‘You’re next,’ she said with a smile and turned away to watch the performance.
Hannah took deep breaths and felt a little calmer. Then Jodie arrived carrying some piano music. ‘It was in your car,’ she told Mrs Martin and then, turning to Hannah, she said cheerfully, ‘You look great!’
Hannah began to think that she might be able to do it after all. Jodie was her best friend and she couldn’t let her down. She moved to where she could see beyond the dancers . . . to where she could see the audience. It was a big mistake. At the sight of the rows and rows of strange faces, her heart began to race again and her hands started shaking . . .
I can’t do it, she thought, I was stupid to think that I could . . . I’ll tell Mrs Martin I’m ill.
But just then Jodie turned and caught sight of her friend’s white face and her trembling hands. She stared at Hannah for a long moment, frowning. Then her eyes seemed to go as hard as nails. She came close so that Mrs Martin wouldn’t hear and hissed, ‘You dare to let me down, Hannah, and I will never ever speak to you again!’
Hannah stepped back. She felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water in her face. The shock was followed by a rush of anger. How could Jodie speak to her like th
at? A friend should help when you were in trouble, not threaten you! She doesn’t care one bit about me, she thought; she’s just been using me to get at Kelly. She glared furiously back at Jodie as the music ended and the applause began.
‘Ready, Hannah?’ asked Mrs Martin as the dancers came running off into the wings.
Hannah took a deep breath and nodded.
The teacher looked at her closely. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine!’ said Hannah and suddenly she was. I’ll show Jodie, she thought. I don’t need her. And drawing herself up to her full height she ran lightly and confidently on to the stage.
Five minutes later she was back in the wings with the applause of the audience still ringing in her ears.
‘Well done, Hannah!’ said Mrs Martin smiling at her. ‘I knew you could do it.’
‘You were brilliant!’ said Jodie.
Hannah looked at her coldly and walked away back to the changing room.
The other girls seemed surprised to see her come back smiling.
‘How did it go? Were you all right?’ They crowded round.
Hannah could hardly believe that it had gone so well. The audience had felt really friendly and she had actually enjoyed herself once she was on the stage. Maybe I can be a dancer after all, she thought.
Then she remembered Jodie. I didn’t let her down, she thought, so I suppose she’ll still want to be best friends. But do I want her? Part of her wanted to pay Jodie back for her meanness . . . and yet she knew in her heart that she wanted to stay friends.
And then, ‘I couldn’t think what else to do.’
It was Jodie’s voice and Hannah turned to see her friend standing behind her. ‘I could tell how scared you were,’ Jodie went on, ‘and I knew that if I said something kind, you would fall apart.’
Hannah thought for a moment and knew that it was true. ‘Yes,’ she said honestly, ‘I would have done!’
‘I thought if I made you even more scared of not doing it . . .’ Jodie grinned awkwardly.
Hannah grinned back. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘it wasn’t like that. I just got really mad at you. But it worked anyway.’
Darcey Bussell Favourite Ballet Stories Page 6