Upstaged Read online

  “Oh yes. But my wife says the old host was better. Leanne.” The waiter furrows his brow as he takes our menus from us. “My wife listens to the radio now.”

  “Whatever makes her happy, right?” Dad says, smile hanging in there.

  The waiter shrugs and leaves us to wait for our food.

  “He should divorce his wife,” I say.

  Dad laughs. “My whole week has been phone calls and emails saying, I’m so sad Leanne’s gone. Or Leanne would never mispronounce Roncesvalles Avenue.”

  “That sucks.” Dad talked about work the whole time we were in the car, so I don’t say anything else in case he keeps going. I shift the soy-sauce bottle around on the table.

  “So.” Dad takes the bottle out of my hand and sets it aside. “The callback?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.” I look past Dad to the big aquarium behind him. A pinky-beige monster fish stares at me with bulgy eyes. Maybe it’s better to look back at Dad.

  Less bulgy-eyed, but his expression is an old favorite: Don’t even try to pretend with me. “I didn’t drive to your audition to answer an emergency chicken-fried-rice call for nothing.”

  “Okay.” I take a big breath and let it all out. “I’m not ready for this theater company. It’s too serious. The choreographer is a drill sergeant. The director stopped me two seconds into my audition. There’s a girl in the cast—”

  “Nobody’s in the cast yet. Everybody’s still trying out.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “She’ll be cast, I can tell. And she has an instant hate-on for me. No reason.”

  “Thank you,” Dad says as the waiter plunks down our drinks, then continues once he’s gone. “Negative people always stand out. Like all the critics who called me this week. For every one of those, there are probably ten others who think I’m fine but don’t bother to call. There have to be some good things about the company, Ellie.”

  I think about Gregor accompanying me, about Drew telling me I had a good audition. That’s great, but…I shrug. “I forgot to tell you. Cassidy got the lead in West Side Story at Rossmere.”

  “Aha.” Dad leans back in his chair and considers me. “Good for Cassidy. And you’re getting the chance to be in a cool new musical in Toronto because your dad finally got his dream job here.”

  Mr. Positive is not helping. “Interviewing school principals about fall fairs while strangers watch in their undies is your dream job?”

  Dad’s smile freezes on the spot.

  I’m being a jerk. Before I can apologize, the waiter appears beside the table, our plates of food balanced up his arm. He sets them down in the middle of our silence.

  “Thank goodness the food’s so fast here,” Dad says cheerily. “My daughter’s in desperate need of this. Gets grumpy with her dad when she’s hungry.”

  I sip my iced tea to avoid saying anything.

  “She’s hangry. Hungry and angry!” the waiter declares, thumping Dad’s shoulder old-buddy style. “Remember that nutritionist on your show last Friday?” He wags a finger at me. “Don’t be hangry to your dad!” He walks away chuckling.

  Dad snaps open his napkin and puts it on his lap. “And that is why it’s my dream job.”

  “I guess I deserved that,” I say, though being hangry feels like the least of my problems.

  “Listen.” Dad dishes out the chicken fried rice, the sweet-and-sour pork, the wontons. “It’s been hard watching you sulk around the condo since we moved here. Youth Works Theater Company sounded like it could be a fun thing. If you don’t want to do that, fine. But you do have to find something to do.”

  I pour the radioactive-red sweet-and-sour sauce over my wontons. “It’s not up to me at this point. At least, not about the play. If I don’t get in, I don’t get in.”

  “It’s up to you to decide to really live here now.” He gives me another old-favorite look: You know I’m right.

  I don’t say anything. Because he’s the one who decided to move here, and Drew and Camilla are the ones who’ll decide if I get into Schooled. How can I decide anything if the choices aren’t mine?

  “Come on, dig in while it’s hot,” Dad says.

  We eat in silence. Except Dad hums while he chews. A goofy habit, it’s always meant he’s happy. I guess it’s good that one of us is.

  Behind Dad, the monster fish circles the tank, forcing smaller ones to get out of its way. I privately name it Marissa. Satisfied, I crunch into a wonton.

  “Food’s good here, hey? Chicken fried rice meets your high standards?” Dad asks. I can tell he’s ready to move on, is looking forward to restarting his work week tomorrow.

  I nod, but I’m not ready to let him think everything’s better. For me, tomorrow means another empty week of school.

  Soon the waiter returns. “No more hangry?” he asks me.

  I lick the last bit of sweet-and-sour sauce from my fingers. “Nope.”

  “Good.” He puts the bill and a couple of fortune cookies down in front of us. “See you tomorrow, This City This Morning,” he says to Dad as he whisks our plates away.

  “You’re right,” Dad whispers. “That is a bit awkward.”

  I laugh. My cell phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out and check the call display. My stomach fizzes. “Already?”

  “Already who?” Dad’s cracking into his fortune cookie.

  I turn away from him. “Hello?”

  “Ellie. Drew Carrier here.”

  “I know.” That sounds rude. I try again. “Hi there.” The bustling restaurant noises mute into a quiet fog of focus.

  I hear Drew take a sip of something. I picture him at the audition table again, surrounded by notes. “Thanks for doing the callback today.”

  And knocking another dancer over with your clumsy moves, thus making it easy for me to tell you that we won’t be casting you!

  “It was fun,” I lie.

  “I’m glad you thought so. I know Camilla can be intimidating, but you’ll find she’s an amazing choreographer to work with.”

  “I…I will?” I look at Dad. He’s mouthing, What? What? I hold up a finger to make him wait. “You mean…does that mean—”

  “I’d like you to be in Schooled, Ellie.” I hear the smile in Drew’s voice. “So do Camilla and Renée. We think you’d do a great job as Piper.”

  They want me. An angel chorus sings in my head. Except I have no idea who Piper is. But she has a name. That’s a good sign. Ensemble characters don’t have names. I have to say something. “Wow. Are you sure?” I grimace. Wrong thing to say. “I mean, you decided so fast.”

  “I work fast. I’d pretty much decided you were a good fit after your first audition. The callback was just to confirm. I like to put a cast together quickly.”

  “That’s great.” I stare at Dad, and he stares back, dopey smile probably mirroring mine.

  “Now, the role is double cast. You’d be playing Piper on alternate nights with another actor.”

  “Oh.” I feel suspended in midair for a second. “That’s okay.” I’m still so excited my brain’s hardly connecting to my mouth.

  “So you’ll join us?” Drew asks. “It’s a big undertaking—rehearsals are every Friday evening and all day Sunday. They’re intense, but YWTC is a terrific company to be part of.”

  I grip the table so I don’t float away. “I’d love to be part of it. Yes.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll email you all the details tonight. Rehearsal schedule, performance schedule. There’s a commitment form you’ll need to print off and sign and bring to the first rehearsal next Friday.”

  “Okay. Will do.” The week ahead clicks into place. The months ahead. Finally, I can look forward to something.

  Dad’s unwrapping the second fortune cookie.

  “Welcome aboard,” Drew says before he hangs up.

  I put the phone down and dance my arms in the air. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

  “Here’s to you, Ellie.” Dad hands me the cookie. “Open it up. Read it.”
/>   I crack it apart. The slip of paper sticks out of one half like a little white tongue. I pause, look at Dad. “I got a role, but it’s double cast. I’m sharing it with someone.”

  He waves that aside. “You’re cast. That’s all that counts right now.”

  Excitement bubbles back up in me again. “Right.” I pull out the fortune. If you don’t do it excellently, don’t do it at all.

  I laugh and slide it across the table to him. “Even the fortune cookies are intense in this city.”

  But I don’t care. I can do excellently. Landing a role in Schooled proves it. Even a shared role.

  Dad puts his arm around my shoulders as we head toward the door. “Hey,” I say. “What was your fortune?”

  He pulls it out of his back pocket and reads, “You learn from mistakes. You learned a lot this week. Bring on a new week, I say.”

  I happily agree.

  Six

  The rehearsal hall knocks the breath out of me. I pause inside the door to take in the high brick walls and wooden floors of the old warehouse space. The late-afternoon sun slants through a row of windows, lighting the table where Drew, Renée and Neeta, the stage manager, talk together. A large circle of chairs faces them. Past the chairs, a short stocky guy plays “On Broadway” on a piano while other kids sing and dance along.

  “We’re seriously not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” I murmur to myself. “This rocks.” I snap a photo of the scene with my phone. I don’t want to look like some small-town hick, but this will make Cassidy drool.

  I’m always excited at first read-throughs, but this one feels extra exciting.

  “On Broadway” finishes, the group breaks apart, and I join in their applause. I scan the faces, hoping to see Gregor. There’s his friend Shantel, and…ugh. There’s Marissa. She leans back and laughs at something said by the big-headed blond guy she hung out with at the callback. I’m not surprised she’s in the play. I’d just hoped that by some miracle she wouldn’t be.

  Whatever. Why focus on Marissa? There are new people to meet, a director and choreographer to impress. Time to join this theater company. I straighten my shoulders and step away from the door.

  “Ellie!” A voice halts me.

  I turn to find Gregor pointing happily at me. “I knew you’d get in. Congrats.”

  I point back at him. “You too.”

  He pulls me into a hug and rocks me back and forth like I’m his long-lost pal. It’s great. Since the kids at my new school continue to be generally boring, Gregor’s the closest thing I have to a friend now.

  “Aha. You’re just in time for the drama.” Gregor swings me around to face the group. “The cast list is going up.” He points to Neeta tacking a sheet of paper onto a bulletin board near the piano.

  “Doesn’t everybody already know their roles?”

  “The ones who are double cast don’t know who they’re sharing a role with. Until now.”

  I’d half-forgotten Drew mentioned this when he called. Maybe I’d forgotten on purpose. Because now I feel a jitter of worry in my gut.

  “I’m double cast,” I tell Gregor. “I’m Piper.”

  Gregor steps back, looking dramatically shocked. “Your first show with YWTC and you’re not in ensemble? You’re a specific character? That’s unheard of.”

  “Seriously? So this could be good?”

  “Can’t you tell by how jealous I sound? Go see who you’re cast with.” He points to the actors swarming the bulletin board.

  But not everyone is swarming. I look sideways at Gregor. “It’s only girls reading the list.”

  He looks caught out. “Fewer guys audition, so there are always roles for them. More girls audition, so…” He shrugs. “They have to share.”

  As if on cue, the guy Marissa was laughing with comes loping toward us. Gregor mutters, “Here comes surfer dude.”

  “Gregor, bro, heard you’re playing Vincent. Major role. Sweet. I’m playing Dean. So stoked.” He holds up his big hand for Gregor to high-five.

  Gregor complies. “Cool, Brayden. We’ve got a couple of great numbers together.” Gregor catches me backing away. “Have you met Ellie? This is her first gig with us. She’s landed Piper.”

  “Who’s Piper?” Brayden attempts to furrow his pale brows, but his face can’t quite do it.

  Gregor rolls his eyes. “A character in the play.”

  “I was just going to go check that out, Brayden. Nice to meet you.” I abandon Gregor to his fellow we-get-roles-to-ourselves castmate.

  I get to the back of the cluster of girls pointing at the list, all talking or whispering. I stand on tiptoe. Shantel glances over her shoulder and spots me. “Hey, you got Piper. Cool role.”

  “Thanks. I know.”

  I freeze. Because I wasn’t the one who said that.

  But I know the voice.

  Right in front of me. Even the back of her head looks uptight somehow. Marissa. She said it. Marissa is Piper. I’m Piper.

  Shantel laughs. “Yeah, you too, Marissa.”

  Slowly, following Shantel’s eyes, Marissa turns around to face me. Her smile shuts down. “Seriously?” she says.

  People buzz around us, focusing on their own news.

  “Seriously,” I say back.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Neeta gives an ear-splitting whistle from the rehearsal table.

  “Okay, people. You’ve all been given your scripts. Two minutes for any last bathroom breaks or super-important texts to your besties. Then it’s butts in seats, phones off, brains on for our first read-through.”

  I’m standing off to the side of the room, still absorbing the shock of sharing Piper with Marissa. Nothing to do but heed Neeta’s command. I sit in one of the chairs in the circle. I take a deep breath, look down at my copy of the script and smooth my hand over the cover. Neeta has penciled Piper/Ellie on the top right corner. I’ve always loved getting a new script. At Rossmere, Cassidy and I would huddle together counting our character’s songs, scanning the pages for big chunks of monologue.

  Someone sits beside me. I look up, ready to smile, and see Marissa. Is there no escape from her? I look away. Drew is walking around the room, talking to pairs of girls at a time.

  “Actors who share roles are supposed to sit together,” Marissa says in a tone implying I’m clueless. “It’s how we always do the first read-through.” She arranges her bag at her feet and puts her water bottle beside it.

  “Fine. Nobody told me.”

  “That’s what I’m doing now.”

  “Great.”

  She sits back in her chair.

  I open the script and look for the song list. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marissa roll her shoulders back and forth. “If you’re looking for your solos, Piper has one. It opens the show. Lots of lines, but one solo.”

  “That’s not what I was checking,” I lie, swallowing my disappointment. One solo? I’ve never played such a small part. “I like to know what all the songs are before starting.”

  “You don’t even know the play?”

  “We just got the scripts.”

  “The rehearsal scripts.” She gives a dismissive sniff. “Friendly advice? There are other ways to read a play before first rehearsal. Even better, watch a performance. I saw Schooled off-Broadway last summer.”

  Of course you did, Queen of the Theater. I lean down to get a pencil from my backpack and murmur under my breath, “I’m just going to throw up on you now.”

  “What?”

  “Hey, Marissa, Ellie.” It’s Drew.

  I bolt back up. “Hey, Drew!” Marissa and I say at the same time.

  Drew laughs. “Very nice unison.”

  “It’s like we’re meant to play the same part.” Marissa laughs and smiles at me like we’re best buds.

  Drew ignores her comment. “Ellie, could you do Piper for this read-through?”

  “Sure.” If I could high-five myself, I would.

  He gives a distracted thumbs-up and moves on. />
  Delicious silence from Marissa.

  “The order at the read-through doesn’t mean anything, you know,” she finally mumbles.

  “Totally. But can we not talk right now? I like to focus before a rehearsal,” I say, mimicking how she cut me off at the audition. I snap open my script to Act 2, Scene 1.

  First read-throughs really are one of my favorite things.

  Seven

  Renée wraps up her welcome speech with, “It’s time to open our scripts—and our hearts—and start our journey through the world of Schooled!”

  Totally hokey but also totally exciting. We all applaud. Even Marissa.

  “You heard the boss-lady,” Neeta says. “Let’s do this!”

  She waits for us to settle, then reads out the first stage directions. “Lights up. Headmistress Winterbottom’s office at Moberly Prep School. The headmistress shakes hands with a new student, Hannah.”

  About six chairs over from me, a willowy girl called Claire flips her long blond hair over her shoulder. In a plummy voice, she says, “Welcome to Moberly Prep, Hannah. I hope you are as proud to be here as we are to have you. Our first black student. The world is changing. Moberly must change too. You are helping us as much as we are helping you.”

  Across the circle from Claire, Shantel, playing Hannah, says, “I can’t wait to get started, ma’am.”

  Drew paces behind the table, script in hand. I remember Mrs. Mowat at Rossmere sweeping across the stage when she gave us directions. Maybe all directors hate sitting still when they rehearse.

  “Headmistress and Hannah freeze.” Neeta’s high voice projects easily. “Tight spotlight on Hannah’s head. She turns to audience.”

  “Hang on,” Drew says before Shantel can say her line. “The dorm set gets slid in behind Hannah here. Actors who are in the next scene, you’ll be doing this set change. It’s a quick one. One of our rehearsals will focus strictly on set changes. Okay, keep going, Shantel.”

  “How could I know what I was really starting? The first black student. Was Moberly Prep making a mistake? Was I?” Shantel already sounds in character.

  Neeta continues, “Hannah steps away from Headmistress Winterbottom, who silently exits.”