As I took my seat, I noticed the crowd of kids was considerably smaller than it was yesterday, concluding that those that hadn't done very well had lost interest. Well, that means less competition, anyway. That can only be good for the rest of us, right?
“Hey, Soph,” said Marissa as I sat down next to her. “You think we're going to get called up for Round Two?”
“I'm counting on it,” I replied, looking around the room for Mr. Danbury, but he hadn't arrived yet.
Kayla told us during recess that we'd likely be seeing less of her in the weeks between now and the live performances, since recess period was when Ms. Hough had most of her volunteers come to her classroom to begin the preliminary set designs. She also told us she'd succeeded in enlisting Autumn, which was nice to hear.
Finally, after a long wait, Mr. Danbury strode in. Everyone was so anxious to hear the results of yesterday's auditions, those standing sat down and all fell silent without having to be asked. He had a clipboard in his hand, and as he prepared to announce the results, I felt Marissa squeeze my hand.
“Well, it would appear the number of potential cast members has decreased some since yesterday,” Mr. Danbury said. “To those of you who remain, I thank you for returning.” He did a quick head count. “Twenty-four of you. I can work with that. And I have some good news …”
Half the crowd leaned forward, waiting for his next statement. When it didn't come, unable to stand it anymore, Siobhan exclaimed, “What?!?” The rest of us chuckled.
Mr. Danbury smiled, satisfied he had our attention. “Before I get to that, I have one question for all of you, and I would ask that you answer me honestly. Because from this point forward, I only want to proceed with those of you who are willing to show up for every rehearsal, try your hardest, and give your all on performance nights, no matter how big or how small your role is. Over the years, I've seen many a production ruined by actors with inflated egos who whined that their parts weren't big enough, they weren't front and center long enough, and that I wasn't willing to kowtow to their wishes. Make no mistake, boys and girls: I want people who are willing to be part of a team, who will put their egos aside and give the best darn performance they can. My question is: can you all do that?”
A chorus of kids replied, “Yes, Mr. Danbury,” and the rest of us just nodded.
“Excellent. And now for the good news: I believe I have parts for every single one of you!” He said the last few words with a flourish, and a cheer erupted from the crowd, including me. I really liked Mr. Danbury. He was going to be fun to work with.
After we settled down, a frown crossed his face. “Sadly, with good news, there must come bad news. As I assume you've all read the script by now,” he paused dramatically again, eyeing us, “you'll know who the most important roles are: Peter, Wendy, Captain Hook, Tinkerbell, Michael, John, and Tiger Lily. I have decided which seven of you will fill those roles, though I have not yet decided precisely who will play whom. These seven are the ones who, in my opinion, gave the best auditions yesterday. I will now read those names in no particular order.”
On my left, I felt Marissa tighten her grip on my hand as a hushed silence fell over the crowd. With my right hand, I reached over and grasped Ayden's wrist. Our eyes met, and we all held our breath.
Mr. Danbury began. “Siobhan Quinn.”
We all turned to Siobhan, who exclaimed, “Yes!” in the loudest whisper-voice I'd ever heard before. No surprise there.
“Korey Briggs.” I heard a loud exhale from a boy sitting about ten feet away.
“Rebecca Mack.” Right in front of me, she raised her hands in silent triumph, getting back-slaps from the kids on either side of her. I leaned over and whispered, “Way to go, Becca.” She deserved it. Her audition had been terrific.
“Ayden Saunders.” I turned to my right. Ayden's eyes were practically bugging out of his skull, and his mouth hung open like the drawbridge of a medieval castle. A broken one, it would seem, since it wasn't closing again. He, too, got a round of back-slaps and “way to go's,” and I could only smile proudly at him.
Mr. Danbury read the next name. “Marissa Ramos.” On my left, Marissa let out an ecstatic squeal. She turned to me, looking happier than I'd ever seen her before. No bit-parts for her this time. She gave her best, and now she was being rewarded.
I leaned over and gave her a hug. “Way to go, Riss!” On her other side, Michelle gave her a rousing high-five, complete with her metallic grin.
“I did it,” Marissa whispered, shaking her head. “I actually did it.” I saw a tear forming at the corner of her eye.
“I never had a doubt,” said Ayden, smiling at her.
“Me either,” I added.
Marissa buried her face in her hands, and Mr. Danbury read the next name. “Sophie Devereaux.”
Oh … my …
Mom once told me that when you're a kid, there are many moments that shape the kind of person you are, the kind of person you're going to be for the rest of your life. I had such a moment three years ago, after I read Logan's goodbye letter.
I'd just had another one.
I wanted to jump up and down, pump my fists, and do the stupidest, dorkiest happy-dance I could think up on the spot. Instead, I just did what Marissa did: I buried my face in my hands, trying to hold back tears of joy while all my friends congratulated me.
But Mr. Danbury wasn't quite done yet. All eyes were on him as he read the last name. “And finally … Simon Kirby.”
Next to Ayden, Simon's whole body stiffened up, and for a few seconds I could swear he'd stopped breathing. He just sat there, in utter shock, getting friendly jostles and kudos from the crowd. Ayden put both his hands on Simon's shoulders and gave him a vigorous shake, bringing his mind back into focus. “I don't believe it …” he croaked.
“Simon Kirby, actor,” said Ayden with a wry smile. “Wait'll your mom finds out. She'll flip.” Simon could only nod as he took in the tremendous news.
After the crowd settled down again, Mr. Danbury continued. “For the seven whose names I just called, you will be performing one more audition, and I will use this to determine which primary cast member you will each be playing. So if the seven of you could step forward, we will get on with it.”
We all jumped to our feet, chattering excitedly, moving swiftly to form a line in front of the rest of the crowd. That is, except for a still-flabbergasted Simon, who had to be helped to his feet by Ayden and a proud-as-hell Michelle, who even gave him a congratulatory hug.
“Hey, Earth to Simon!” she said, bringing her face up close to his. He blinked a few times, and then regained his composure. They locked eyes, and Michelle added, “You da man, Simon. I'll play Hellfire with you anytime.”
I smiled again. Michelle hadn't been all that talkative about her growing friendship with Simon, but it seemed obvious she'd developed true feelings for him. And though I hadn't known him very long, I could also tell those feelings were mutual.
One by one, the seven of us were called forward to each perform different excerpts from the script. Sometimes Mr. Danbury would provide a line as a prompt, and sometimes we would do the lines together. But, despite being watched by a crowd of kids I didn't know that well, I poured my all into it. So did Ayden, and Marissa, and Siobhan, and Korey, and Rebecca. Even Simon had regained enough of his willpower to make it through the audition, although he couldn't hide his nervousness.
At just past five o'clock, auditions ended, Mr. Danbury thanked us all for a job well done, and, mentally exhausted, we strode toward the exit, where once again, Mrs. Kirby and Mrs. Jameson waited for us. Michelle grabbed Simon's hand and practically dragged him along, the good news spilling out of her in a river of syllables. Simon's mom hugged him so hard I thought it would crush the life out of him, and Mrs. Jameson couldn't stop gushing over how proud she was of Michelle, even though she hadn't gotten a prime role. Then both ladies turned to lavish praise on me, Marissa, and Ayden, and that was followed by the two of them announ
cing that they'd both decided to throw a party for all of us at a local seafood restaurant – called, ironically, Cap'n Hook's, a place only Michelle's mom could've picked out – after the final casting decisions were made on Friday. We were ecstatic, and we were also told we could bring Kayla along as well, since she'd helped us rehearse.
By the time we piled into Brenda's car and Mrs. Jameson's van, we were in the highest of spirits. Ayden, of course, would ride his bike home, so both Marissa and I gave him the warmest, most heartfelt hugs we could. I couldn't remember being this happy … well, ever. We'd come together as a team, and we'd triumphed as a team.
* * *
When I got home, the first thing I did was go to the website Mr. Danbury gave us and download all the songs I had to learn for the play. I listened to them a few times, chuckling at how corny they were – hey, it's a middle school play, what were you expecting? – and I even tried singing along after the third listen. The melodies were simple, and I discovered if I didn't try too hard, I could sing them without totally messing them up. The problem was, no one would hear me singing unless they were less than ten feet away. Hmm. Projection. Gotta work on that.
While I practiced, I tried to not let self-doubt creep in. Did I really have what it took to sing? In front of an audience?
You can do it, Sophie. You stood up to the Coven. You inspired Ayden to come out of the shadows, and look at him now. You love music. You love to sing. It's just a matter of learning to do it RIGHT. Baby steps.
I'm a Devereaux. I can do this.
My next thought was interrupted by a heavenly aroma wafting up the stairs. I walked down to the dining room, where Mom was just putting dinner on the table. “Hey, sweetie, perfect timing! Wanna go get your sister? I think she's still in her room.”
Nodding, I went back to the foot of the stairs and screamed, “Kirsten! Dinnertime!” before making my way back to the kitchen. Mom had a frown on her face.
“That's not exactly what I meant,” she said, but before the scolding could continue, Kirsten's footsteps as she descended the stairs signaled her arrival.
“Steve, honey!” Mom called. “Supper's on!”
Dad bounded into the kitchen, remarkably full of energy for someone who'd spent the better part of the day in the cramped cockpit of an airplane. He took a big, dramatic whiff of the dish Mom had placed in the center of the table and plopped down in his seat with a smile. “Lizzie, if I had to list five reasons why I love you so much, your chicken enchiladas would be one of them.” He flashed his goofiest grin.
“Oh, really?” Mom said, playing along. “What are the other four?”
“Let's see …” Dad pretended to rack his brains for the answer. “Your spinach lasagna, your veal parmesan, your moussaka, and … oh yes, your world-famous tiramisu.” He grinned again, as if he was begging to have his block knocked off.
“Gee, and here I am thinking that for the last twenty-one years, it's been my winning smile, my charming personality, and my completely baffling taste in men,” Mom shot back, filling his glass with ice water.
“Well, those would be the next three things on the list,” Dad said, reaching out and pulling Mom onto his lap. Mom giggled playfully and planted a kiss on Dad's lips.
Thankfully, I was in way too good a mood to be grossed out by this shameless display of affection, but Kirsten had obviously had a worse day than me. “Like, ewww!” she said, making fake-gagging noises. “Mom, Dad, seriously? I'm about to eat here!”
“Fine,” Dad said, releasing his grip and allowing Mom to take her seat. “Lizzie, remind me again how we ended up raising such a cranky-pants for a daughter.” He locked eyes with Kirsten, his eyebrows moving up and down like a yo-yo.
Finally, a smile cracked onto Kirsten's face. “I'm fourteen, Dad, remember? Cranky is my middle name.”
“Hmm, I thought it was Elizabeth.” Dad was on a roll tonight.
“Just pass the rice, okay?” Kirsten said, her brief glimmer of happiness already fading.
I waited patiently for Mom and Dad to notice my huge smile before today's events all burst out of me like a geyser. Thankfully, it didn't take long. “Looks like someone has good news,” Mom said, spooning an enchilada onto her plate.
“I got one of the top roles!” I gushed, raising my hands over my head like I was a referee signaling a touchdown.
“That's great, sweetheart! I'm so proud of you!” Dad said, his chest swelling with pride.
“That's outstanding, darling,” Mom echoed, beaming. “I knew you could do it.”
I looked toward Kirsten, hoping she would add her own congratulations, but her reaction was as low-key as she'd been since starting high school. Finally, sensing my eyes on her, she met my gaze briefly and said just loud enough for me to hear, “Way to go, sis.”
“K, sweetie, what's wrong?” Dad asked, his mood switching to one of concern.
“Nothing,” she said glumly.
“How'd you do on your trig test yesterday?” Mom asked.
“Got an 'A'.”
“Well, that's great news! How come you're not more excited?”
“Mom, it's no big deal,” she said, scratching her neck. “It took me a while to get used to high school, but I've gotten the hang of it now.”
“Then why are you so moody all the time?” Dad asked.
“Fourteen, remember?”
“Riiiiiiight. Well, just ask us if you need help.”
“Will do,” Kirsten replied. “And Sophie, I'm going to say this nicely one more time: please stay out of my room.”
My smile vanished as I found myself on the defensive. “This again? I keep telling you, Kirsten, I haven't been in your room! I would never go into your room while you weren't there, I promise!”
“Sweetie,” Mom said in her best 'peacemaker' voice, “what makes you think Sophie's been in your room?”
“I went in when I got home, and I swear, things have moved around since this morning!” The volume of her voice had risen considerably.
“Well, it wasn't me!” I cried, equally loud.
“Hey, hey, inside voices, girls!” Dad bellowed, ending the shouting match.
“Steven, have you been in Kirsten's room?”
“I vacuumed in there yesterday,” Dad admitted, “and I may have moved a couple of things when I dusted your bookshelves. If I put them back in the wrong places, then I apologize. However, in the future, if you have a concern, you ask me or your mother in a calm, rational manner. I will not have you accusing your sister at the dinner table again, is that clear?”
“Yeah.” She picked up her fork again and took another bite.
I ate the rest of my dinner in silence, my mind awhirl with concern. Something is up with Kirsten. First she's struggling, now she's not. First she's cheerful, now she's paranoid. She's not acting like the sister I've spent the last thirteen years with. I need to find out what's going on.
But how?
Chapter 19
~ Day 47 (Fri.) ~
AYDEN
Today was the day Mr. Danbury would reveal what part I was going to play in my first-ever acting role. I wanted to be right there when he stapled the cast list to the school's bulletin board, but when I woke up this morning with a nasty cough and a fever, I knew that wasn't going to happen.
Within minutes of taking my temperature, Mom was on the phone to the school telling them I wouldn't be coming in today. I begged her to let me go, but my pleas were ignored.
The one upside to the morning was that Ron wasn't around to make fun of the way Mom “babied” me. When I woke up this morning at 6:30, he already gone, which was unusual. A quick glance out the window confirmed that his BMW was not parked in our driveway.
There were a lot of words I'd use to describe Ron, but “workaholic” wasn't one of them. In one of his drunker moments, he told me the great thing about having subordinates was that if he ordered them to cover for him, they had no choice but to obey. The store where he worked didn't open until 9:00, so his e
arly departure was … suspicious, to say the least.
I wonder … is he overseeing the arrival of another “shipment” today?
I hadn't overheard any more conversations between him and his pal “Ray” since last week, but I decided after putting on some clean pajamas and a bathrobe that, after Mom left, I would scour the house for some evidence … and my comic books, of course.
I watched cartoons on TV for a couple of hours before Mom sweetly kissed me goodbye and left for work, making me promise to call her if I needed anything. Between that godawful cough medicine and the hot shower, I was feeling somewhat better, so I promised to take it easy.
Our house wasn't big, but there were a lot of places where Ron could've hidden my comic books. I decided to start with the most obvious place: his room. My face scrunched up as I entered, catching a whiff of Ron's lingering B.O., which floated around the room like an invisible cloud. I opened his closet door, which revealed only a pile of clothes and a few jackets on hangers. I decided to come back and do a more thorough search of Ron's room after I checked the rest of the house.
I spent the next ninety minutes searching. I even checked the rundown toolshed that lay crumbling in the corner of our weed-ridden backyard. The padlock that held the door shut was still in place. The slot where the key went in had rusted almost solid, which meant it hadn't been opened in a long time.
Sighing in frustration, I could only reach the conclusion that wherever Ron had stashed my comic books, it wasn't inside the house. Where could he have taken them? To work? To this storage facility he mentioned? Or maybe they're in …
… his car.
Of course. He must have put them in the trunk of his car that day before I got home from school. Which meant they were probably still there. He always kept his car keys with him, so the odds of me getting them away from him were slim at best.
The last thing I wanted to do was search Ron's desk. It was made of a very expensive-looking wood, and looked almost brand new. I had little doubt that he'd paid less than full price for it … if, indeed, he paid anything for it at all. I carefully opened the drawers, one at a time. Most of them opened right up, but they didn't reveal anything useful.
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