Breaking Big

by Penny Draper

  “Big surprise,” mutters Odette, who is still being held down by Jeremy.

  “Gee, thanks, man,” I say.

  “These tragic words were spoken by the man himself.” Cam bows to me with a sweeping arm. “Not for him, but on behalf of the company, we must intervene and save the day.”

  “Give me a break. And untie me!”

  All the girls except for Odette are laughing now.

  Cam grabs my copy of the play from the mess of stuff he dumped from my bag. “Only the play can release you.” Then he leaps across the room to the other bench. Flipping to the end, he reads from the last act, “If we shadows have offended…”

  He points at me. “Has he offended?”

  “Oh yeah!”

  Cam goes back to the book. “If we have unearnèd luck… Does he?”

  “Oh yeah!”

  “What is this, a revival meeting?” I mutter.

  “Give me your hands if we be friends, / And Robin shall restore amends. Okay, folks, we need to give him a hand!”

  There aren’t so many “Oh yeahs” after that line.

  “Okay, enough,” says Jeremy as Cam finally unties me. “This is actually serious. Rob’s so frustrated he’s about to blow a gasket. Or quit. Whichever comes first. The company’s got him all confused, so we have to sort him out. So spill, big guy. Where are you at, and what do you need?”

  So I spill.

  “I pretty much know the steps now…” I start.

  “Well, good for you,” says Odette sarcastically. “I mean, you open day after tomorrow.”

  I ignore her. “The thing is, Rick could really get into character. You really believed he was a fairy. He was light on his feet, and jumpy and playful. And I’ve tried to copy him, but I can’t pull it off. So I’ve been studying this other Puck off a DVD, and he’s more solid—athletic, you know? That works better for me, but I’m not consistent with it.”

  Johanna says, “Your problem is that you can’t channel Puck?”

  “Yeah, exactly.” I sigh with relief. They get it.

  Everybody in the change room bursts out laughing. “He can’t channel Puck!” hoots Charis.

  “What’s funny?”

  Jeremy is trying to rearrange his face to look serious, but he’s having a hard time. “Here’s the thing, Rob. You don’t have to channel Puck. You are Puck. That’s why they picked you.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Think about it. If they’d needed an understudy for Oberon, the King, who would they have picked? Of the three of us, I mean.”

  Cam answers right away. “You, Jer. You’re definitely King material.”

  “Right,” answers Jer firmly. “We’re all good dancers, but we’re not the same. I’m dignified, stately. Boring.” With a quick glance at Sybille, he sighs. “But absolutely solid. What if they’d needed an understudy for Bottom?”

  I get it. “Cam, of course. He’s funny.”

  Cam waggles his eyebrows to demonstrate.

  “Of course. Cam. He’s the comic. But they needed Puck. Explosive, frustrating, disruptive Puck. And you, my man”—Jer punches my arm—“are that guy.” For a moment Jeremy looks sad. “Even if my mother doesn’t get it.”

  “What you need to do,” Charis goes on, “is the same stuff you do in class with us. Play games, tease. Be a smart aleck. You don’t want to make people laugh, like Bottom does. You want them to feel like strangling you, even though they love you because you’re so clever.”

  “Yeah,” adds Sybille. “Just be you.” At that, everybody breaks up again.

  Everybody except Odette. “It’s not funny,” she huffs, and then she looks straight at me. “And I won’t help you. You’re not a serious dancer—you’d rather mess things up to get a laugh. It’s no surprise to me that you fall apart when things get a little tough.” With that, she shrugs off Jeremy’s hold and marches to the door. Then she turns and casts her evil eye on everybody else. “Why would you even bother to help him?”

  “Because sometimes dancers have to work as a team,” Charis shoots back. “And this is one of those times. If you’re not going to help, make sure you close the door on your way out.”

  “Help you? No way.” Odette’s glare hones in on me again. “For the record, I think strangling him sounds like a much better idea.” And with that, she’s out the door.

  “Wow,” says Mavis. “That was a little harsh.”

  I shrug. “I don’t care what she thinks. I care what you guys think. So how do I just be me onstage?”

  I pace while everybody thinks. “For starters, you have to stop copying other Pucks,” says Charis. “You have to be your own Puck.”

  “But how do I create my own Puck?”

  Everybody thinks some more.

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” asks Cam. “You have to prank the other dancers.”

  “Prank the company?” Sybille looks horrified. “He can’t do that.”

  “Sybille’s right,” I say. “It’s the company, not you guys!” Charis glares at me. “Okay, sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. But these guys are stars!”

  “All the more reason,” says Cam. “You, my man,” he goes on, poking me in the chest, “are intimidated by them.”

  “Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” says Cam. “But I don’t have to dance with them. You do. Am I right, or am I right, Jer?”

  Jeremy has gone a little green, which makes me laugh.

  “You’re right,” he says, “but the very idea of pranking the company makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

  “So what’s the prank?” asks Mavis. “What will you do?”

  “Here,” says Cam. He throws my copy of the play at me. “Read it again. You’ll figure something out.”

  I feel the old magic coming back. Pranking magic. “Jer, can I borrow Ratinski?”

  As the girls squeal, Jeremy slumps down. “Please, please,” he whispers to himself. “Please don’t let my mother find out.”

  Twelve

  I lay awake all night, leafing back and forth through the play. Cam’s right—it’s all in here. Puck frightens the maidens of the village, misleads night wanderers, changes into a horse and later a hog…but that’s all kind of difficult to reproduce onstage. Especially that bit about changing into a crab apple, although how cool would it be to bob about as an apple in somebody’s drink, then change back into a miniature fairy to scare the bejeezus out of them as they took a drink? But I can definitely make things go missing and knock people down. All Puck really does is make everybody mad, then make it all better. I can do that.

  The fact that the company dancers don’t really know me is in my favor. They won’t be expecting a sneak attack. But Cam was right. I do feel intimidated by them. Is pranking the company going to make that better? Or much, much worse?

  At breakfast I’m still thinking so hard about the whole idea that I don’t hear my name being called, and Mr. Colson has to come right to my table and tap me on the shoulder. “Mr. Acton wants to see you in his office, Robin,” he says quietly. He looks serious.

  Shoot. Maybe it’s too late. I have to drag myself down the hallway.

  “Come in, Robin,” says Mr. Acton. “Sit down.”

  Here it comes.

  “I’m going to have to replace you as Puck. I’m sorry, Robin, but I’m really worried about the performance. So is the rest of the company. I’m afraid we may have made a mistake assigning such an important role to a student.”

  “You couldn’t k
now that Rick would break his ankle.” It’s all I can think to say.

  “True,” says Mr. Acton, “but that’s the point of an understudy, and I know better than to assume accidents won’t happen. Please don’t think I’m disappointed in you. It was my mistake for putting too much on your shoulders too soon. I hope you won’t feel bad about being replaced, but I don’t see that I have any choice. You’ll have other chances.”

  Not feel bad? While I wait for other chances? We both know they won’t be coming my way. It’s now or never.

  “Mr. Acton, I have an idea. Please, will you give me one more chance?”

  “Robin, I applaud your dedication. No one could have worked harder. But the dress rehearsal is this afternoon! There’s no time left for more chances.”

  “At least listen to my idea. Please?” And I tell him. At first he just looks tired and a little impatient. Then I see it—the smallest twitch on one side of his mouth. I know he wants to laugh—I know it! Not many would notice, but true pranksters recognize each other. So I embellish, add layers. His eyes crinkle. It’s working.

  When I finally run out of breath, Mr. Acton sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. “You know the company dancers may never speak to you again, don’t you?”

  “As long as they’ll dance with me, I won’t care,” I say firmly.

  “Humph,” he snorts. I sit on the edge of my seat as he thinks. “You could use Starveling’s lantern.” Then he grins. He’s in! And so am I, for one more rehearsal, at least.

  This is going to have to be epic.

  * * *

  “You have got to be kidding me, man,” Cam says. “Are you really going to wear this? Or not wear this?” He and Jer are helping me into my costume, such as it is. It’ll leave me about as close to dancing naked as you can be without getting arrested.

  “What can I say?” I try to sound breezy. “Fairies are supposed to be like spirits or something. Since when did spirits wear clothes?”

  “True,” says Jeremy skeptically. “But I think wrapping yourself in fig leaves went out with Adam and Eve. As a fashion statement, this is a little out there, you know.”

  I look in the mirror. The silk vine wraps around me, and as far as I can tell, it covers everything that needs to be covered. Barely. “So shoot the costume designer. I’ve got enough to worry about.”

  But here’s the thing. My mother is going to see me in this. So yeah, I’m worried.

  “Have you got it all set up?” asks Cam. He and Jer cut school this morning to go to the joke shop downtown for me. I had a long shopping list for them, and they didn’t miss a single item.

  “I skipped lunch to get everything ready, so we’re good,” I reply. “Where are you sitting?”

  “Front row, center,” says Cam. “That way I’ll be able to see everything.”

  “I’m going to be backstage, stage right. I’ll have to hide until I can collect Ratinski,” adds Jeremy. “Then, of course, I’ll have to run for my life.” He groans. “How is it I always get talked into this stuff?” He shakes his head in frustration.

  “Because you’re a good guy.” I slap him on the shoulder. “Remember, this is for the good of the company, right? We’re going to save the show. Anyway,” I add, “Charis is going to distract your mother until it’s all over. And you know Charis. Your mom’s not getting anywhere near this theater until she says so, dress rehearsal or not.”

  “I can only hope,” mutters Jer.

  Right then Charis walks in. “Jeremy, I told your mom that Mr. Acton wanted some changes to the program, so she’s down in the office. It’ll keep her there for a while.” She eyes me up and down. “He didn’t really want changes, so I had to fake it. I rewrote your bio, Rob. You’re now a mechanical robot designed in a lab to be a perfect dancer. But there were so many errors in your software, they threw you away. Unfortunately, we got stuck with you. Hope you don’t mind. I think it reads well.”

  “You’re so amusing.”

  “Love the horns,” she adds.

  “What can I say? In some cultures, Puck is considered a demon.”

  “My, my.” Charis grins from ear to ear. “Robin Goodman, I do believe you’ve found the perfect role!”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “And they go so well with…whatever it is you’re not wearing. When you said you wanted girls to go for you because of your body, we didn’t realize you were going to put it all out there. Can we auction you off after the show?”

  Cam chortles. “We told him, but he insists on wearing it.”

  “You guys are all so very hilarious. Wish me luck,” I say as I go into the rehearsal studio to warm up.

  “Yeah,” they say. “Break a leg, why doncha?”

  “Sorry,” I call back. “It’s been done.”

  When I walk into the studio, I get a few surprised looks and a lot of frowns. I guess the company didn’t expect me back. I take a deep breath. Well, I’m here, and I’m staying. I go to the barre and close my eyes. As I run through the warm-up, I imagine Puck inside of me. My Puck, nobody else’s.

  He makes me feel like I want to jump out of my body.

  “Hang on, Puck,” I whisper to myself. “It’s nearly time.”

  * * *

  As I wait in the wings, I think of one thing and one thing only. Not the steps. Not the jumps. Not the havoc about to come. I think about pinball. The old-fashioned kind. The kind with the flappers and the little silver ball that pings all around, bouncing off obstacles whenever it hits something. That pinball is me. I am a ball of energy, waiting to be released. And when I go, I’m going to fly around the stage, pinging everything in my path. Ping, ping, ping…the music builds, and I’m off!

  As I leap into the spotlight, my grand jeté feels like an explosion. Once I’m on, I have a short solo and then usually hide behind a tree. But today, I chase Peaseblossom, confusing her. Then I hide behind her skirt. This is the dress rehearsal, and she can’t react, or call time, but I can feel her confusion. She’s watching me now. I tug on her skirt as I peek around her at the audience. She looks down and tries to catch my eye so I can see her glare, but I don’t look. I sure can feel it though. Then I crawl between her legs and lift her up so she’s sitting on me, and she shrieks. As she settles on my back, I buck and knock her off. I’m gentle about it, but the fact is, Puck turning into a stool is actually in the play. So it’s a legit move. I just hadn’t thought of really studying the words until Cam’s little performance in the change room last night. I jump up and bow to Peaseblossom with what I hope looks like a cheeky grin, then run before she can hit me. One down, literally.

  In the next act, Bottom asks Peter Quince to unroll his scroll and read the players’ names. With great fanfare, Quince slowly unrolls the massive scroll. I angle toward upstage center so I can hear Cam. I know he’s going to laugh. As Quince gets to the end of the scroll, the whole thing bursts open and streamers explode from it. Quince drops it as if it were a snake, then jumps away and stares at the mess on the floor. I love it! And Cam is killing himself. I have to make sure they know it was me, so I pick up the streamers and, with great deference, arrange them on Quince’s head. Then I step back to admire my work. None of this is in the script, but this is dress rehearsal, right? It’s like filming live—you have to go with what you’ve got. Quince looks like a thundercloud, but Bottom is starting to grin. Just wait, Bottom, your turn is next!

  It’s been a long time since I clubbed Bottom with the donkey head. I think he’s suspicious that something like that is going to happen, and from the back I can see his shoulders tighten in anticipation. But no, the donkey head makes it safely onto his head. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve give
n it a new look. There’s a beard, and a long mustache, and I’ve added gigantic false eyelashes, a golden wig and a silver tiara. Bottom can’t see it, so he doesn’t know why he’s hearing snickers from the other dancers, snickers they’re trying hard to conceal from the audience. Snickers are good, but what I really want is a big laugh, one the dancers can’t contain.

  Oberon is up next. He’s supposed to go stage left and pick the magical purple flower, then give it to me so I can cast the love spell. Oberon does his stately dance across the stage and reaches down for the flower. But it’s not there. He looks again. Nothing. If his character was supposed to be comical, he could play it up, but Oberon is the King. It’s hard to look dignified when everybody knows you’ve been suckered. For the sake of the music—we can’t get too far behind—I dance sweetly over to him and hand him the missing flower. Then he hands it right back, which, of course, looks ridiculous. More snickers. A couple of lesser fairies pick up other, smaller flowers from around the stage and hand them solemnly to Oberon, making him even more disconcerted. That’s not supposed to happen.

  Now I have allies. The other fairies cover for me as more props go missing, and I’m never where they expect me to be. Unbelievably, we keep up with the music and the plot proceeds as it should, in spite of my unscheduled disruptions. There’s only one prank left to go.

  From stage left comes Starveling, carrying his lantern. He’s supposed to think the lantern is the moon, and that he’s the man in the moon. When he gets to center stage, he stops and opens the little door in the lantern so that the light can shine out. But this time, there is no light. Instead, there’s Ratinski, happily chewing a hunk of cheese inside the lantern. Starveling shrieks and throws the lantern away from him. I’m ready for it (Jeremy made me swear Ratinski wouldn’t get hurt), so I catch the lantern as it falls. Meanwhile, Starveling backs into Bottom, who can’t really see very well under the donkey’s head. They both fall down, and while the other characters are trying to help them up, I bring the lantern back into the crowd of fairies, and the shrieking starts up all over again. It’s a wonderful, fantastic, messy tangle, and if I hadn’t promised Jeremy I wouldn’t, I’d be tempted to let the rat out of the lantern and really have some fun. But for Ratinski’s sake, I’d better not.