by Alex Flinn
Women always blame other women. Even in Spoon River Anthology, Elsa says, “Mrs. Greene said she understood, / And would make no trouble for me.” Why would she make trouble for Elsa? Why wouldn’t she make trouble for her sex-offender husband?
So that’s why I cried. My throat’s getting full just thinking about it.
After class, Owen came up to me and said, “Don’t get upset. Not everyone can cry on cue. I had to cry in a scene last year, and I pulled out an eyelash every time.”
“That’s why they looked so patchy,” David said.
“Ha ha. My lashes are thick and luxurious enough to spare.” Owen batted them.
And I went along with it because I knew they were guys and wouldn’t understand.
By the way, speaking of guys, I’m also exchanging emails with another guy besides you. We text every night, way past lights out.
Shhh.
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: October 29, 7:59 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Sorry
Dear Mr. Smith,
I’m sorry about my letter Tuesday. I didn’t mean to burden you with hearing about my pervy sub shop manager. I’ll try to keep my letters in the here and now.
I haven’t told you about my voice teacher. Her name is Noreen, and she used to be an opera singer, and she frightens me a little. Okay, a lot. We spent the entire first lesson talking about how I stand (half an hour) and how I form the letter E. The second lesson, we discussed the shape of my lips.
It took three whole lessons before she gave me a song. It’s a ballad from a musical about Bonnie and Clyde, and she said I should have an up-tempo piece from an older show. She repeated the same thing Harry said, about having audition pieces ready at a moment’s notice.
Because, obviously, Broadway producers are going to be lining up to hear me, very soon.
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 2, 5:03 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Broadway producers may be lining up!
Dear Mr. Smith,
We did our scene, “The Rain in Spain,” in class today. It is the sweetest scene, where Eliza finally pronounces “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain” correctly, and Henry Higgins and Colonel Pickering lose their sh*t (excuse me) and start tangoing her around the room in delirium. This leads into Eliza’s solo “I Could Have Danced All Night,” which is how you know Eliza is falling in love with Henry Higgins.
But we weren’t doing “I Could Have Danced All Night.”
Until now!
That’s right. Harry was so impressed with our performance. He kept saying, “Wonderful! Really first-class, kids.” Then he turned to me and said, “Could you work with your voice teacher on a song, if I gave you something? Could it be ready for December 11?” I had no idea what he was talking about, but I’ve worked in retail, so I knew to say yes. Yes, of course I can. Then he says he’s decided to add “I Could Have Danced All Night” onto the scene. He pointed to three girls who were playing servants and told them they’d be the chorus in that song too.
My very own song! I have a solo, just like Phoebe and Nina. I didn’t look at Phoebe, afraid of what she’d say.
But on the way out, Nina said, “I’m so excited for you! Sometimes colleges come to our performances, to check us out. Or people from summer theater programs.” She said Harry must be really impressed to give me a whole song my first year.
I’ve heard people talking about summer performing arts programs. So I asked Nina if the summer programs were expensive, and she said yeah, but they give need-based scholarships, so maybe.
For now, though, I’m so excited about singing “I Could Have Danced All Night.”
Over the weekend, the school put on a haunted house and invited some local “disadvantaged” kids to come through it. The art students decorated the house, and the drama and musical theater students acted in it. Then the orchestra held a concert of scary music. Daisy’s been playing “Night on Bald Mountain” in our bathroom for weeks.
Nina, Phoebe, and I played the three witches from Macbeth. Phoebe did our makeup—she’s as talented at making warts as she is at hating on me! We stood in the common room of the senior girls’ dorm, stirring a cauldron full of dry-ice smoke and saying stuff like “Double, double, toil and trouble” and “We’re out of toads—maybe we can add these nice children to the pot!” When they screamed, we’d giggle wildly. It was so much fun!
I didn’t dare mention it, but I was one of those “disadvantaged” kids growing up. More years than not, I was wearing a donated costume and going to some event at the Catholic church, even though we weren’t Catholic.
After all the kids went through the haunted house, we carved pumpkins with them. I’d never carved a pumpkin before, but I researched it online, and I think I did okay. A little boy dressed as Aquaman hugged me and said I was pretty for a witch. I think it was the best Halloween of my whole life!
Jarvis texted me a photo of himself, dressed as Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas, also carving pumpkins with a kid. Awwww!
I hope you had a happy Halloween too.
Also, BOO!
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 4, 11:34 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Bed, bed, I couldn’t go to bed!
Dear Mr. Smith,
Because I’m up at all hours, practicing “I Could Have Danced All Night.” This song is a lot harder than it looks. It doesn’t go that high, but the way the notes are arranged makes it difficult.
Maybe too difficult for me.
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 6, 8:10 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Frustration
Dear Mr. Smith,
Yesterday, I spent ONE ENTIRE HOUR of my voice lesson working on the same eight notes of “I Could Have Danced All Night.” ONE. HOUR.
Today, I spent two hours on my own, doing the same things. I still sound like someone is pulling out my fingernails. Phoebe was right. This isn’t my part. I’m better at the jazzy stuff. It’s what got me in here in the first place. I’m a belter.
Maybe Harry gave me this song to challenge me. If so, it’s kicking my butt.
But Noreen says that the practice you do now will show a result in six months. “You have to practice and have faith.”
But I don’t have six months. And I have to sing this song in front of the class. And Harry. And Phoebe. On Monday.
Love, Jacaranda
P.S. I wish you’d write back! Is that so hard?
To: [email protected]
Date: November 9, 8:17 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Bad day
Dear Mr. Smith,
As predicted, Harry had me sing “I Could Have Danced All Night” in class today, and as predicted, his hand crept toward his ear at the sound of my shrieky high notes. He sent me to the practice room to work on it.
Five minutes later, he came back with Phoebe.
He said, “Okay, here’s the deal: Two performances didn’t meet expectations, and two performances might get cut from the show if they don’t improve.” He explained that he wanted us to work together. I could help Phoebe with her “deficient” low notes, and she should help me with my “earsplitting” high notes.
He left, and Phoebe and I stared at each other.
Phoebe said, “I guess Harry saw The Parent Trap.”
I looked at her blankly. She said, “Lindsay Lohan and Lindsay Lohan hated each other, so their camp counselor made them stay in the cabin together.”
Another childhood experience I missed, I guess. I asked if that made them friends, and Phoebe sighed. “They turned out to be secret twins. That’s the entire premise of The Parent Trap,” she said, like she couldn’t believe my weirdness.
You’d have been proud of me. I screwed up my courage a
nd asked why she didn’t like me. I mean, she couldn’t still be mad about me not being Abigail, not after all these weeks.
She said, “You mean aside from the fact that you stole my role?”
“I didn’t steal your role, and you haven’t liked me since day one,” I said.
She shrugged and said Daisy kept telling her how great I was, and now Jarvis was doing it too. And usually, when people told her she should like something, she didn’t.
I was surprised to hear that about Jarvis. I mean, we’ve been texting every day, but I didn’t know he talked to her about me. My face must have shown it, too, because she said, “Yeah, my cousin really liked you. I take what he says with a grain of salt, though.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t know. He’s strange. My father says it’s a good thing he has a trust fund, because otherwise he’d give all his money to Greenpeace or some socialist political cause, and then he’d be out on the streets in a year.”
I asked her why he had a trust fund, and she looked at me like I’d started singing country music. Apparently it’s common knowledge that Jarvis’s mother died of cancer when he was twelve, and she left him a ton of money in addition to his dad’s.
I actually didn’t know that, but I flashed back to what Jarvis had said about being really close to his mom and never getting a tattoo because she’d be disappointed. And how they’d eaten eggs for dinner and watched movies together when he was a kid. It made my heart hurt for him. I mean, obviously he’s from a rich, important family, and mine is the opposite, but we both have a big hole in our lives where a parent should be. And obviously, neither of us brought it up.
I wanted to ask Phoebe more about what Jarvis said about me, but instead, I suggested we start working in case Harry came to check on us. Phoebe said, “How bad do those high notes suck?” as if she hadn’t been listening and rooting for me to fail. So I said I didn’t know—how bad were her low notes?
She rolled her eyes and admitted they were pretty bad. I suggested she sing for me.
I love her song, which is called “Welcome Home.” It’s super dramatic and inspiring, about soldiers who can’t get past what they’ve seen in the war. It has this belty refrain that goes “Welcome home, my husband, welcome home my love, welcome home!” Seriously, I could have sung the crap out of this song, so Phoebe was probably right about Harry trying to challenge her. And he was trying to challenge me with My Fair Lady.
So here we were, Phoebe and me, stuck together and not even secret identical twins.
I could see the tension in Phoebe’s jaw as she sang. “Stop!”
She looked offended, but I said, “You need to relax.”
“How can I relax? This song is so miserable!”
I suggested maybe not to think of the lyrics at first. Then I made her get down on the practice room floor and do stretching exercises. Phoebe eyeballed the brown carpet that’s probably never been cleaned and it looked like she gagged a little.
I made her take deep breaths through her mouth while she stretched. When she started to yawn, I said, “Okay, now sing ‘Welcome hooooome!’”
“On my back?”
I yelled at her to stop thinking and sing.
She started to sing, and truly, it sounded way better. I was impressed, especially since I actually had no idea what I was doing. Maybe two months of voice lessons have really helped me! We went back to the beginning, and she sang the whole thing lying on her back.
“But I can’t lie down onstage,” she said, even though I could tell she was happy.
“No, but you can remember how it feels. Now, let’s do mine.”
She said, “Oh, that’s easy.”
I told her it wasn’t easy for me, and she said she meant it was an easy fix. “You’re having trouble with the end because it’s right in your break.”
“Break?”
She rolled her eyes. “The place where you go from chest to head voice. That’s why it’s hard even though it’s not that high.”
“So what do I do about it?”
“Sirens.”
And, as I was about to ask what that meant, she started wailing like a fire truck! She went from the growly low range of her voice to the high part. She was so loud I was surprised everyone didn’t run in there despite the soundproofing.
Then she made me do it. And, after about five times, she said, “Now, sing your song.”
It actually did sound better. Oh, who am I kidding? I wrestled that song to the ground and made it an anthem to our combined tenacity.
We went over Phoebe’s song one more time, and then (since we agreed Harry wasn’t going to let us back into class yet) decided to do math homework.
Except I couldn’t concentrate because I still wanted to ask her what Jarvis said about me.
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 9, 8:40 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Jarvis
Dear Mr. Smith,
So, no lie, ten minutes after I sent that email, Jarvis called me. We’ve been texting, but that was the first time I’d heard his voice since he left.
He sounded super excited. He said he bought theater tickets for all of us for the Tuesday of my visit and was trying to get something else good for Friday and/or Saturday after Thanksgiving, but it was crazy with tourists, and did I like dim sum (I have no idea what that even is). And also, did I think I could see him at all the first weekend, without Phoebe and Daisy there, please? He said this all in one breath and then had to stop to inhale.
I said I hoped so, and I was excited about seeing him too. We talked for about 15 more minutes, and then I told him I had to practice. After years of watching my mother fawning over men, I know it’s better to be the one who has something else to do and says goodbye first.
But secretly, in my heart of hearts, I was thinking, “HE LIKES ME!”
But I actually have to practice now. I’ll write to you from New York. And, if you want to drop by Vanessa’s, I’ll be there from Friday afternoon until Sunday morning. I’ll fit you in!
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 16, 4:28 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: My song
Dear Mr. Smith,
Just a note to say that, after a week of sirens, Harry said it was much better! I’m off probation and definitely in the show in December. It’s December 11–12. You should come!
Phoebe’s was fine too. But when I tried to congratulate her, she pretended not to hear.
Love, J
To: [email protected]
Date: November 20, 5:35 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: I’M IN NEW YORK!!!!!
Dear Mr. Smith,
I’M HERE! It’s so big! And loud! Okay, I sound like that song from Annie, but it’s true. As Daddy Warbucks said, “I can’t get enough!”
The second my plane landed, I had 12 texts from Jarvis. Was I there yet? How long would I be in the city? Could I get away from my aunt (I had told him Vanessa was my aunt) and see him soon instead of waiting until Tuesday? I was about to say no when I noticed a text from Vanessa, saying she’d forgotten a friend’s birthday party Saturday night, and did I mind being on my own for the evening. So I texted Jarvis yes, I could see him tomorrow!
Daisy and I were waiting for our luggage when he called. Rather apologetically, he explained that he probably couldn’t get tickets for anything new and hot (“shows Phoebe would approve of”) on such short notice. He’d gotten tickets for all of us later in the week, but since I hadn’t been to a New York theater before, were there any older shows I’d like to see.
Mr. Smith, I’m finally seeing Wicked! Tomorrow night with Jarvis! I CAN’T WAIT!
Love, Jacaranda
To: [email protected]
Date: November 22, 2:49 a.m. Eastern Standard Time
Subject: One short day in the Emerald City!
Dear Mr. Smith,
&n
bsp; It’s true! I, Jacaranda Abbott, have now seen Wicked. It was sublime, as I knew it would be. And we had glorious seats. Jarvis’s father’s ticket broker outdid himself.
But first, THANK YOU for my shopping spree with Vanessa! It was NOT NECESSARY but so fun to have someone take me out and buy things for me, like having an actual rich aunt!
What a big, confusing place New York is! Do you get tired? I walked around Manhattan for one day and was exhausted. I thought, “Mr. Smith does this every day, and he’s old!” Though, maybe one gets used to it. Vanessa seemed to think it was no big deal, and she was wearing high-heeled boots.
The sidewalks in Times Square were so crowded that I felt like I might be able to pick my feet up and be carried along by the crowd, and it reminded me of one time when I was six or seven, and my mother and whatever scrub boyfriend she had at the time took me to a holiday parade. It was so packed that I couldn’t see out the sides of the crowd, or in front of me either. Suddenly, I felt like I was drowning. I lost my mother’s hand. I tried to find her, but I couldn’t move. I started crying. Finally, she pulled up on my arm. I saw the sky and drew in breath.
It must be like that all the time for New York children. I wonder if you grew up here. I asked Vanessa if she had, but she said she no. She’s from Bogotá!
Vanessa even bought me an evening gown! I said it wasn’t necessary, but she said if I was going to the opera with the Pendletons, everyone would be looking at us. She wanted to make me a hair appointment too, but Daisy and I will probably do each other’s.
Anyway . . . the dress is bright blue, off-the-shoulder, and form-fitting but not too form-fitting, a little higher in front than on the sides. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned. I know I say that a lot, but seriously, it’s true, and I’m going to wear it to everything, like Tiffany Haddish did with that white gown she wore at the Oscars.