Upstaged

  “We’re forty-five minutes away from lights-up. Fifteen minutes from the house opening.” We can already hear our soon-to-be audience chatting and laughing as they wait to be let in. “You guys have worked so hard all these weeks. Now all you need to do is—” he puts his hand up to his ear.

  “Listen!” we all shout.

  He grins through his beard. “Music to my ears. Have an amazing show, everyone.”

  I hang back as my fellow performers stream offstage to the dressing rooms. Drew turns, sees Marissa, hops off the stage.

  “Bring Ellie,” Neeta tells him.

  Marissa’s eyes meet mine. There’s the same sadness I saw yesterday. But none of the contempt.

  * * *

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Marissa,” I say. “It’s probably just nerves. I know my heart’s fluttering like a—”

  “It’s not nerves.” She shakes her head like a stubborn kid. “I missed tech because of some stupid test. I missed half a dress rehearsal and could barely pay attention for the half I was there. I’m not ready. I’ll let everyone down.”

  “We know you’d never do that,” Neeta says.

  Marissa looks up at Neeta. “My stomach still feels kind of odd.”

  Neeta and Drew exchange uh-oh looks.

  Then they and Marissa turn to me.

  The house manager cracks open the door and calls, “Can I please let the audience in? It’s getting crowded out here.” Voices carry from behind her like a cheerful mob.

  “But it’s opening night, Marissa,” I say. That has to trump everything, doesn’t it?

  Two days ago, I never would have believed I’d be arguing with Marissa that she, not me, should perform Piper. But after what she said to me yesterday, and after watching her sing this morning, and realizing how it must have felt to put in three years with YWTC before getting a good role…“I’m happy to just be in the ensemble for tonight,” I say.

  Marissa’s eyes narrow. “You should never say just be in the ensemble.”

  My breath catches. “You’re right. I’m honored to be in the ensemble.”

  Then she smiles at me as if, for the first time, we’re equals.

  “Well, this is all very heartwarming, but you girls do know this is a decision for the director to make, do you not?” Neeta bursts out, her hand flapping at Drew as if he’s missed an important cue. “At least get out of here so I can open the house? Then feel free to let me know who’s doing what tonight.” She puts on her headset and stomps away. “Twenty-five minutes to curtain, by the way.” She flings the words over her shoulder.

  Marissa laughs as she, Drew and I hustle out of our seats. “Neeta’s my hero,” she says.

  “We need to give your hero an answer,” Drew says.

  Marissa looks at me, and I know what she wants me to say.

  So I do. “You should be Piper tonight.”

  Another thing I’ve learned doing this play. An actor can only make a line sound true if she really feels it.

  Eighteen

  Marissa belts out the opening to “Welcome to Your Dorm.” I can feel her voice coming right through the bottom of the bed. I see Shantel’s kneesocked and sensibleshoed feet lit by the warm stage lights. The energy of a sold-out theater sizzles through me like a current.

  It all adds up to the best feeling I know. And I’m still lying, unseen, under a bed.

  When Marissa sings, “But only after sneaking / three beers and then four more,” I brace myself. Ready. Set.

  “We know,” I sing as I slide out from under the bed and take Marissa’s hands, “this isn’t quite the place you were expecting.”

  For the next two hours, we propel ourselves through the world of the musical. Where we both belong.

  * * *

  After the bows, after the applause, after the backstage hugs and high fives and cheers and more hugs, I collapse into a dressing-room chair to catch my breath. Rachel’s on the chair beside me, texting someone on her cell. “Neeta said it’s okay once the show’s over,” she says when she notices Ilona watching her. She fist-bumps me. “Long live Neeta.”

  Brayden sticks his head partway through the change-room door. Two of the younger girls scream. He laughs and says, “Not looking. Letting y’all know opening-night party’s at my place, whoever’s up for it. No drinking. Much singing. Neeta’s got directions if you need them. Thank you for your attention. YWTC rocks!” He closes the door.

  “You going?” Shantel asks, catching my eye in the mirror as she wipes off her makeup.

  “You know you were totally amazing tonight,” I say. “You held that stage solid for two hours.”

  She tosses the tissue into a garbage can and turns to face me. “That felt so great out there. I love playing Hannah. I love this theater company.” Her voice is quiet in the midst of all the chaos around us. Then she leans over and whacks my leg, the way she does to Gregor. “You better be coming to the party, Ellie, ’cause you’re officially part of this company too.”

  Approval from Shantel. That’s totally worth celebrating. “Try and stop me,” I say.

  Rachel leans over. “Me too?”

  “Welcome to your dorm, baby,” Shantel shouts.

  Rachel wrinkles her nose. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

  * * *

  “Shall we, Snow White?” Gregor says as he and I stand by the backstage door, ready to go outside. “Our fans await.”

  I take his arm. “You really don’t need to call me Snow White anymore.”

  “Little Orphan Annie?”

  “Really, really not!”

  “Piper?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  He opens his mouth, takes a deep breath. “The sun will—”

  “You are not going to sing that song.”

  “Wow. So bossy. No wonder you make a good Piper.”

  “No wonder.”

  I push open the door.

  “Omigod, omigod, Ellie, there you are! Congratulations! Oh, I missed you so much.” Cassidy flings her arms around me and squeezes the ability to speak right out of me.

  I hear Gregor greeting his family. “Grandma, Grandpa, you came.”

  Over Cassidy’s shoulder, I spot her mom, holding a wrapped bouquet of flowers, standing next to Dad. They both sport smiles big enough to injure themselves.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” I finally manage to say.

  “Me neither.” Cassidy lets me go. Her blue eyes shine. “That show was amazing. A-maz-ing! I’m so glad Mom had to come to town for her teacher conference thingy. As soon as she told me the date, I said, Mom, you have to take me with you. I have to see Ellie’s Toronto debut.”

  “I’m so glad she did,” Mrs. Shannon says. “You were wonderful, Ellie. As always.” She hands me the flowers. Just like she did for every show Cassidy and I did together.

  “Thank you. I only wish you both could have seen one of the performances where I’m Piper. It’s a bigger role. I mean,” I say to Cassidy, “not Maria in West Side Story big, but—”

  “Shut up!” Cassidy says, taking my hands in hers and shaking them. “Who cares? You were in a fantastic show in a fantastic theater with a fantastic cast in this crazy-big city. I’m so jealous. I’m so happy to see you.”

  How could I have already forgotten how funny and over-the-top sweet Cassidy is in person? I miss her all over again. “I’m so happy to see you too, Cass.”

  “Hey, can I get a hug?” Dad’s still standing a little back from us.

  I walk into his arms. “Thanks for coming, Dad.”

  “I’m so proud of you, kiddo. Great show.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for calling me that morning when you did the spot about YWTC. It got me to tonight.”

  “Just doing my job. Both jobs.”

  “Now, about that Renée,” I say, leaning away. “Specifically, you and Renée.”

  He blushes, so I know I’m on to something. “That’s a conversation for later,” he says, then gestures to Cassidy, who’s busy introduc
ing herself to Gregor. “Do you want to have Cassidy sleep over at the condo? I asked her mom, and she said that’d be fine. They’re at a hotel downtown until tomorrow.”

  “They’re only here for one night? But there’s a cast party.” I look around. Some of the younger kids are leaving with family members, but the ones my age and older are hanging around with each other, probably sorting out how to get to Brayden’s.

  “It’s up to you,” Dad says.

  The backstage door opens, and Marissa comes out alone. She scans the crowd and lights up, waving. “Mom, Dad, Daniel. Over here.”

  I dash over. “Can I grab you for just a second, Marissa? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  I half expect her to brush me off, but I suppose I’ve surprised her enough that she says, “Um, okay. Just a sec, you guys,” she calls to her family.

  I take her over to where Cassidy has now, by the looks of it, met Gregor’s entire extended family.

  “Ah, the Piper!” An elegant, silver-haired lady intercepts us when she spots Marissa.

  “Both Pipers, Grandma,” Gregor says. “When you come back tomorrow night, you’ll get to watch the other one.”

  “Oh, good,” she says, squeezing Marissa’s and my hands. She has tangerine nails, multiple rings and a surprisingly strong grip. “My favorite character. So nasty. Those are the fun ones to play, right, girls?”

  “Yes,” Marissa and I both say.

  “Grandma used to do plays when she was young,” Gregor explains.

  “I’m where Gregor gets his talent from.” She winks and releases our hands. “Now. Where did your grandfather get to, Gregor? Oh, never mind, I found the old fool.” She sets off to join a group that seems to make up half of the crowd outside.

  “I should talk to my family,” Marissa says.

  “Right. I still haven’t introduced you to who I want.” The night is turning into a babbling, busy blur of people. “Cassidy, I want you to meet someone. Cassidy, Marissa. Marissa, Cassidy.” It’s like having my past meet my present.

  “Marissa. You were so, so fantastic,” Cassidy exclaims.

  “Cassidy’s my best friend from back in Rossmere Heights.” For a frantic moment I try to remember if I ever texted anything horrible about Marissa to Cassidy, but I think I’m safe. Cassidy never asked for many details about my rehearsals. That’s turned out to be a good thing. “She’s only here for tonight.”

  Marissa gives Cassidy a genuine smile. “Oh, so you didn’t get to see Ellie as Piper. That’s too bad. She does a great job.”

  I stare at Marissa. “Thanks.”

  She turns to me. Shrugs. “It’s true.”

  It’s not exactly gushing praise, but from Marissa, I’ll take it.

  “Hey, Cassidy,” she says as she starts to make her way to her family. “Since you’re only here one night, you should go to the cast party. Brayden would love it.”

  “Yes!” Gregor shouts. “Brilliant idea.”

  “You’re not going, Marissa?” I call.

  “I’m tired. I think I still need to rest more after—” She mimes throwing up, laughs and gives a wave.

  “Oh, I’d love to come,” Cassidy bubbles beside me. “But. Well. I’m not part of the cast.” She looks at me as if waiting for permission. After all of her texts about rehearsals in Rossmere, it’s strange to realize I’m the one having the exciting time now. It’s even better to realize I want to share it with her.

  “Cassidy, do you know any show tunes?” Gregor asks in a life-or-death tone.

  “Does she know show tunes?” I wrap my arm around Cassidy. “Us two and show tunes go way back.”

  “That settles that. She’s coming,” Gregor declares.

  We sort out details with Dad and Mrs. Shannon about how we’re getting to the party and when Dad will come pick us up. I hand him my bouquet for safe-keeping, and then Cassidy and I join Gregor and the others and head to the subway.

  As we walk together, I watch Cassidy taking in the busy traffic, the people hurrying by on the sidewalk, the tall buildings all around us. A police car starts its siren, and she flinches. “Doesn’t this city scare you sometimes?”

  “It did,” I admit. “But not anymore. Now it feels like home.”

  And that feels even better than the brightest spotlight ever could.

  Acknowledgments

  There are times when writing a book can be as nerve-racking as any opening night. Thanks to Pat Bourke, Karen Krossing, Karen Rankin and Erin Thomas for holding my hand through any jitters and helping me get my lines right. Thanks also to Sarah Harvey, Robin Stevenson and the entire Limelights team at Orca for bringing Upstaged into the (shared) spotlight. To David, Bronwyn and Caroline, thank you for always standing in the wings with your love and encouragement. And finally, a standing ovation to all the young musical-theater performers I know for showing me the joy—and, yes, the drama—that can come from hard work and singing at the top of your lungs in public places. Take a bow!

  PATRICIA MCCOWAN has been addicted to theater and books from a very young age. Her stories have appeared in YA anthologies and in print and online magazines. Her first novel, Honeycomb, was published in the Orca Limelights series. Upstaged is her second novel. For more information, visit patriciamccowan.com.

  The following is an excerpt from

  another exciting Orca Limelights novel

  by Patricia McCowan.

  9781459805798 $9.95 PB

  9781459805811 EPUB • 9781459805804 PDF

  WHEN NAT, HER BEST FRIEND JESS and singing-star wannabe Harper sing together, their harmonies bring down the house. For Nat, the experience sparks a driving new desire to perform. When the girls form a trio and enter a contest for a chance to play at the Tall Grass Music Festival, Nat finds that harmony—musical and otherwise—is hard to maintain.

  One

  I don’t have butterflies in my stomach; I have big flapping pelicans. I’ve never been so nervous. In the dark backstage of an old church auditorium, Harper stands in front of me, watching the act that’s before ours. She’s pulled her dark, curly hair into a pile on top of her head, and excitement sparks off her like a meteor shower. Jess waits beside me, rock-steady as always, her guitar slung toward her back, her hands in her jeans pockets.

  The three of us are the last act on the last day of March-break music camp, and I’m hoping the act onstage will never end. Not because five guys doing an all-horns version of “Smoke on the Water” is great. It’s weird. But once Brassed-Off is done, we’re up.

  Why am I so nervous? I’ve sung in front of tons of people at school choir competitions. But it’s easy to blend in with a choir. In three-part harmony, if I suck, I’ll stand out. It’s the standing out I’m afraid of.

  Harper stage-whispers, “We are so gonna bring the house down after these goofs.” She glances at me, winces, puts her hands on my cheeks. “Nat. Girlfriend. Breathe.”

  I take a deep breath.

  “Now put your stage face on.”

  I do my best to smile as if I mean it. I can’t let her and Jess down. “It’s okay. I’m good.”

  “You’re gonna be more than good, Nat. You’re gonna be great. We’re gonna be great.” She puts her arm around my shoulders. I’ve known Harper only a week, but already she treats me like her best friend.

  Still, I look to Jess—Jess and me and singing have gone together since grade one. “Harper’s right,” she says.

  The pelicans in my stomach stop flapping so hard.

  Applause. The Brassed-Off guys bow and come bouncing past us, high-fiving and fist-bumping one another. Harper rolls her eyes.

  Darrell Bishop, the head of the camp, bounds out of the audience and onto the stage. The lights shine off his wire-framed glasses and perfectly bald head. “Was that not awesome?” he shouts. The audience claps.

  He glances toward us, making sure we’re ready. Jess pulls her guitar into position. Harper flashes a huge smile. She grabs my wrist and squeezes. I can’t tell if it’s to reass
ure me or to keep me from bolting.

  Darrell gives us a thumbs-up and turns back to the audience. Our audience. “To finish off tonight’s showcase of terrific young musicians, let’s welcome to the stage three velvet-voiced gals. This trio couldn’t agree on a name for their group”—the audience laughs, and Darrell raises one hand—“but that’s okay, because they only came together this week, and hey, they sure find harmony when they sing. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Harper Neale, Natalie Boychuk and Jess Lalonde.”

  Harper pulls me into the light. Jess follows close behind. Pelicans or not, it’s time to sing.

  Harper takes center stage behind the microphone, with me and Jess flanking her. We’re tight together in a bright circle of light. It makes Jess’s smooth black ponytail shine. Harper’s caramel-colored skin seems to glow. I’m probably half-invisible beside them, all wispy blond hair and pale eyes.

  Harper cozies up to the mic. “Fellow music geeks and gods,” she starts, her voice silky, relaxed. At home. “I can’t believe we’ve been together for only a week. It already feels…I don’t know, like we’re a family.” She shades her eyes to look out at the other musicians, who have joined the audience. “Is that corny?”

  “No!” they cheerfully yell.

  Wow. Harper is only a year older than Jess and me—she’s sixteen—but she can banter like a pro. Down in the front row, Darrell beams.

  Harper smiles and nods. “Cool, cool. So, to keep this family-groove thing going, the girls and I have a song to share with you. Sound okay?”

  The audience whistles and cheers. I quietly clear my throat and hope no one can hear my knees knocking together.

  “Sweet,” Harper says. She looks over to Jess, who smiles her easygoing smile as she strums the intro to “Four Strong Winds.”

  I take a breath, and we dive into the song.

  I have to watch Harper’s and Jess’s mouths to make sure I stay in sync, see the cues for when to breathe. We worked hard on this all week, from the moment on Monday when Darrell discovered how our voices fit together to our pre-show rehearsal today.