D Is for Drama (21 page)

Mr. O'Malley was quiet for so long, I almost forgot about the pain in my hand.

“It is,” he told Chase, offering his own tentative smile. “And I'll bet it looks great.”

“We're almost sold out of seats for the show,” Chase ventured, “but I could still get you one.”

Chase squeezed my hand so tightly, I felt my knuckles rubbing against each other.

“Please, Mr. O'Malley!” I finally squeaked. “Go to the show so I can have my hand back!”

Mr. O'Malley chuckled, and Chase gave a start, as if he'd forgotten he was crushing me and not a soda can. He let go of my hand, and I collapsed in a seat.

“Sorry,” Chase said with a rueful grin. “I keep doing that.”

“It's okay.” I glanced up at Mr. O'Malley. “Will you please go to his show?”

I watched the two of them stare at each other, their eyes doing all the talking. As if an unspoken agreement had been reached, Mr. O'Malley took some money out of his wallet and handed Chase two ten-dollar bills.

Chase took it and smiled. “Tickets are only ten bucks.”

Mr. O'Malley nodded. “To
your
show. I'd like to go to Sunny's, too.”

“I'll take that!” I snatched one of the tens from Chase and beamed at Mr. O'Malley. “Thank you again, sir!”

Mr. O'Malley winked at me and slapped his son on the back. “I'll see you down at the car in a few minutes.”

We watched him make his way out of the stands, stopping occasionally to chat with someone. When he'd disappeared from sight, I pinched Chase's arm.

“Tickets are only ten bucks!” I mimicked.

Chase grinned and gingerly took my hand, pulling me to my feet.

“I'm guessing that stunt before the game was
your
idea,” he said.

“Why, yes.” I polished my fingernails on my shirtfront. “It was.”

He shook his head. “How did you pull it off?”

I put my index finger on the side of Chase's chin and turned his head so he could see Stefan. My acting coach/STARS counselor/dance instructor was busy hustling the audio equipment into a van.

“Remember that little baseball musical the high school did last spring?” I asked. “If you pay them enough, they'll come back and perform a song from it.”

Chase gaped at me. “Sunny, you did
not
pay for this.”

“Not a
lot
,” I said. “Just . . . consider it repayment for all those Chocolate Monkey muffins.”

He shook his head. “That's still not enough.”

“Of course it is,” I said. “You're my best friend and the greatest guy I know. If I could afford it, I would have had
the original cast out there.” I pointed to the field. “It would have been incredibly moving.”

Chase smiled. “I think most of the original cast is dead.”

“Then it would have been incredibly creepy,” I said.

He laughed and squeezed my hand. “Well, let me at least
try
to repay you,” he said.

“How?” I asked.

Without another word, Chase leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes and kissed him back. After a few seconds, he pulled away, grinning sheepishly.

“So?” he asked.

I tilted my hand from side to side. “That was
maybe
a nickel's worth of payment.”

Chase's jaw dropped. “
That
was totally a quarter! And you kissed me back.”

“I was being polite,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I'll need a lot more of those to make us even.”

Chase grinned. “Then I've got a million for you.”

NINETEEN

O
N THE MORNING OF THE
big showcase, everyone in the Melodramatics was incredibly tense. In any part of the school where one of us was present, the conversation had a common theme—stage diva.

In the cafeteria: “I asked for tea with lemon, not lime! How is a taste of the tropics going to help my singing voice?”

In the bathroom: “Use that hairspray somewhere else. It could crystallize in my throat!”

In the hallway: “Don't step on my toes! Do you
want
me to fall over when I dance?”

And that was just me.

By the time I gathered the others for a lunchtime pump-up, everyone looked ready to claw the nearest throat. At one point Derek bent down to tie his shoe and accidentally bumped into Suresh.

“Watch it, dude!” Suresh snapped.

“Give me room!” Derek snapped back.

“I'll give you my foot up—”

“Guys!” I said, walking around the group. “Let's all take a minute to relax and breathe.”

I closed my eyes and led by example, slowly inhaling and exhaling. Around me, I could hear several people doing the same.

I could also hear, “Don't breathe so close to me. I don't want your germs.”

“You've been fine with Janice spitting on you all this time!”

“Hey, I have my braces off now!”

I opened my eyes. “Okay, there's pre-show nerves and then there's
this
.” I looked from person to person. “
What
is going on?”

Nobody answered, and several people suddenly found the carpet very fascinating.

“I know what'll make you feel better,” I said. “I was going to save this until later, but . . . we've sold a hundred
and fifty seats! Yaaay!” I clapped, but nobody joined in. Not even Holly.

Finally, Cole stepped forward. “I-I'm worried about tonight,” he said.

“Why?” I asked.

“I-I'm stuttering a-again,” he said. “Nnnow that I knnnow all the lines, i-it's back.”

“Have you tried focusing on what you want to say first?” suggested Wendy.

Cole shook his head. “That . . . that's not the problem. I-I knnnow what I . . . what I . . . want to say.”

I chewed my lip. “It's just stuck,” I said.

Cole nodded.

Bree nudged me. “Can't we fix this like we did Suresh's singing? Just record someone reading Cole's lines?”

I shook my head. “We don't have time for him to practice lip-synching.”

“It's not just Cole,” Holly spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“I'm worried too,” she said in a small voice. “I've never been onstage for so long. And with a hundred fifty people staring at me?” She shuddered. “What if I make a mistake?”

“The
Mary Pops In
cast is, like, perfect,” agreed Anne Marie. “And we're . . .
not
.”

“We're doomed,” said Tim.

Several people voiced their agreement until I quieted them with a shout.

“You know what?” I said, climbing onto the stage. “It doesn't matter if we're not perfect. In real life,
nobody
is.” I pointed at Cole. “You have a stutter. Real people have stutters. You're going onstage and that's final.”

“But—”

I silenced him with a hand. “Don't you guys remember why we're doing this? To prove that there's nothing wrong with us the way we are!”

Suresh cleared his throat. “Does that mean I can sing my own songs?”

I looked at him. “No.”

“But a bad singer is who I are!” he said.

Everyone laughed.

“I'm not talking about talent, guys,” I said, grinning. “I'm talking about the little differences that get us branded as rejects or weirdos. Whether it's being overweight or having a stutter or even being from a different culture.”

Several people nodded.

I tapped the side of my head. “We're smarter than the
Mary Pops In
cast. People may think they're perfect . . .
I
once thought they were perfect . . . but that means their show has to be perfect too.”

“Which no show ever is,” added Bree.

“Exactly!” I said. “We're not the perfect cast trying to put on the perfect show. People know little hiccups are going to happen.”

I sat on the edge of the stage and grabbed Holly's arm. “You can make mistakes, and people are still going to love you because you have that energy,” I said. “And the longer you're up there, the more in love they'll be.”

Holly's face broke into a cautious grin. “Really?”

“Really,” I said with a smile.

Bree glanced around at the other Melodramatics. “Guys, we go onstage in six hours!” she said. “Aren't you excited?”

“Yeah,” a couple people said, while the others nodded.

I cupped a hand around my ear. “What?”

“Yeah!” This time everyone responded. Holly even gave a little bounce.

I jumped down from the stage.

“What?!” I hollered.

“Yeah!!” everyone shouted.

I held my hand out, palm down, and smiled at Cole. He
smiled back and put his hand on top of mine. Bree added hers, then Suresh, and soon there was a giggling and slapping of hands as everyone joined the center.

“‘
Wicked
kids rule' on three!” shouted Max. “One, two, three!”

The cheer of the Melodramatics practically shook the walls of the theater.

“
WICKED
KIDS RULE!”

AS THE HOURS
ticked by before the performance, I rushed from place to place, making sure everything was ready for a seven o'clock curtain call.

“Are costumes ready behind the stage exits for quick changes?” I asked Cole, who I'd put in charge of wardrobe. “I need to get from my Glinda gown into my Shiz school outfit in seconds.”

He nodded. “W-wear the Shiz o-outfit under your gown,” he said.

I snapped my fingers. “Good idea!” I turned to Max, who I'd put in charge of curtains. “Did you make sure the ropes work in case the electric panel shorts out?”

He nodded. “I even brought gloves so I can pull the ropes fast.”

“Clever!” I said. I turned to Kyle, who was busy making
last-minute adjustments to my bubble. “Do you have the monkeys and the green light lens and the fishing line and—”

Kyle turned to scowl at me.

“Good job,” I said, patting his shoulder.

“Hey, Sunny?” Bree beckoned me backstage, a huge smile on her face.

“What's up?” I asked.

She pointed to the loading dock door, which someone had opened for a trio of vans. Standing beside the vans was a crowd of men and women in suits and skirts. Some were carrying musical instruments, and all were gazing at a man who was giving instructions.

“Dad?!” I cried.

He stopped midsentence and gestured at me.

“Everyone, this is my daughter, Sunny, the show's director and star. Sunny, this is your orchestra.”

The men and women clapped politely. I just gawked at them until Bree nudged me, and I finally smiled and waved.

“Oh . . . my . . . God,” I whispered to Bree.

“I know!” she whispered back.

“So, as I was saying,” Dad said, returning his attention to the orchestra, “this is an abbreviated version of the full
show. Don't be surprised when you skip multiple songs.” He rubbed his hands together. “That's it, and thank you again for coming.”

Another man, I guessed the conductor by his fancy clothes, motioned the members into the theater, smiling to me as he passed. A xylophone and a harp rolled by, followed by two trumpeters. I stared at them and then at Dad.

“So?” he asked, holding his arms open. “What do you think?”

“Dad!” I ran into his arms and squeezed him tight. “How did you do this?”

“I worked on a sound track for a friend of mine last year,” he said, “and he owed me a favor.” Dad bent down and whispered, “You're also good practice for the conductor. He's from the
Wicked
roadshow coming to town.”

I gasped and clutched at Dad's arm. “Are you serious? That's perfect!”

Dad grinned. “That's why I thought you wouldn't mind.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I hugged him again, then turned and hugged Bree. “Isn't this awesome?” I asked.

“Yes!” she said. “But we have to get into costume!”

I checked my watch. “Oh, crap. We do!” I gave Dad a
kiss on the cheek and grabbed Bree's hand. “See you later!” I called to Dad.

“Break a leg out there!” he called back.

The dressing room was a nightmare, packed with girls struggling into dresses and curling their hair.

“Where's Anne Marie?” I asked, spinning in my gown to find her and almost knocking Janice off her feet.

“She's with Ilana getting her makeup done,” said Janice.

I nodded. “When you're finished, start gathering people for the circle.”

There was a knock on the dressing room door, followed by screams from some of the partially clothed girls. I shifted my huge dress past chairs and people to open it a crack.

“Sunny!” Stefan's face beamed from the other side.

“Hi!” I slipped into the hallway and reached out to hug him, but he held a single rose between us.

My first theater flower.

“That's so sweet!” I gushed.

Stefan smirked. “I would have given you more, but I didn't want to upstage someone.” He shifted aside, and Chase stepped forward holding a bouquet.

I squealed and took the flowers before giving him a huge hug.

“Easy there,” said Stefan, tugging me back. “I have someone I want you to meet.” He grabbed me by the hand and led me toward the audience. “By the way, kudos on the orchestra,” he said in a low voice. “Your show is quite the hit already.”

“Really?” I asked, giggling.

Now that I was down on the floor, the audience could see me in my gown, and they whispered excitedly.

I felt giddy and lightheaded and on top of the world.
Now
I knew why people fought so hard to be a part of theater.