Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series (19 page)

“No.” Sam hung her head. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. “Well, maybe. I don’t know yet.” Her mother’s glare bored into her soul. There was no way out of it. She had to say something. ”Actually, I might do the pit again.” That was definitely a lie, but it was far better than the truth.

The shocked look on her mother’s face made Sam cringe. She was obviously trying to process the unthinkable. She waved the book of sheet music in the air. “Drivel, Samantha Rose. This is drivel. I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

“I didn’t tell them I’d do it yet,” Sam mumbled.

“Your talents should not be wasted on this. You’re a classically trained musician.”

Sam pretended to study the open math book on her desk.

“Samantha Rose? I’m confused here.”

Sam looked up. “Mother, I thought it would be fun. Like softball is fun. I—“

“Ahh,” her mother said with understanding, “this was Dr. Boyle’s idea, wasn’t it? Like that softball.” Dr. Boyle was the be-all end-all of child psychologists. Her mother didn’t make a parenting move without his approval. “I will speak with him immediately.” Her mother’s face hardened. “I don’t know what has gotten into his head.” She shook her head in disgust. “I’m going to leave you to your studies.” She dropped the distasteful sheet music back on the stand.

“Okay, Mother. Thank you. Good night.” Sam waited until the door closed and then laid her head on her math book. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. Poor Dr. Boyle wasn’t going to know what hit him when her mother called. Sam’s mother had been calling him for advice since forever. With a sigh, Sam went back to her homework. Maybe things would be better in the morning. She grunted. Yeah, right. It would be a cold day in hell when her mother would let her have anything to do with musical theater.

Mazel Tov

MRS. DICKENS BECKONED Sam onto the stage. “Are you ready, Samantha Rose?”

Sam nodded and grabbed her violin out of its case. It was Friday afternoon and it was her turn to audition.

“Good luck,” Ronnie called to her as she headed up the steps.

“Break a leg,” Alivia added.

Sam flashed them an uneasy grin. She couldn’t believe how nervous she was.

“I’m sorry to make you wait until the end of the rehearsal, but I figured it would be easier for you to audition with only a few people around.”

“Thank you.” Sam smiled at the drama teacher and then took a calming breath. She always got nervous before performances, but this was different. This was an audition for an on-the-stage acting part. Her parents didn’t even know she was trying out.

“Alivia,” Mrs. Dickens called, “would you get a music stand for Samantha Rose?”

“I don’t need one,” Sam said.

“Don’t you need the sheet music?”

“No, I have my audition music memorized.”

The look of surprise on Mrs. Dickens’ face was priceless. She probably never expected Sam to work out and then memorize the
Prologue
and
Tradition
in only three days.

“Okay, then. Start whenever you’re ready.” Mrs. Dickens nodded at Sam.

Sam checked her tuning, and then struck her ready pose. The melody was deceivingly simple at first, becoming increasingly intricate as it went. She transitioned from the
Prologue
into
Tradition
seamlessly and was secretly pleased. As she played, she pictured the
Fiddler on the Roof
movie she had downloaded onto her iPad and felt the excitement of the imaginary characters around her. The song grew in intensity and she flung her bow across the strings. She was aware of Ronnie and Alivia quietly singing along, but all that mattered were the soulful notes she pulled out of her instrument. She was prepared to keep playing, but Mrs. Dickens put a hand up for her to stop. Her other hand went to her chest, and at first Sam thought she was having trouble breathing or something, but then she realized Mrs. Dickens was simply moved by Sam’s playing.

“You are amazing, Samantha Rose, truly amazing. Mr. Auerbach knows what he’s talking about.”

“Thank you.” Sam’s cheeks warmed at the praise.

Ronnie and Alivia leaped to their feet and gave Sam a two-person standing ovation. “
Brava
,” they both called.

Sam bowed her head to them slightly, a little embarrassed.

“Samantha Rose,” Mrs. Dickens said, “the part of the fiddler is yours if you want it.”

Sam’s stomach jumped. Why did it feel like a giant octopus was squeezing the life out of her? Under Mrs. Dickens expectant gaze, Sam found herself saying, “I’d love to play the part of the fiddler.”

“
Mazel tov
,” Mrs. Dickens said. At Sam’s confused expression, Mrs. Dickens added, “That basically means congratulations or best wishes.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“So,” Mrs. Dickens said, “by next Friday’s rehearsal, I will need my male lead,” she looked at Ronnie, “and my fiddler to block out the scene after the
To Life
number in the tavern. This is the scene where the Russian constable tells Tevye he has been ordered to have a
pogram
— an aggressive demonstration of looting and rioting against the Jews. The constable needs to have the
pogram
in order to prove to his superiors he has done his duty.”

“That’s barbaric.” Sam frowned.

“Every great story has tension, Samantha Rose, and this play is not only about the tension between the Jews and non-Jews, but also about the tension between traditional values and the ever-changing values in an evolving world. Tevye knows he has to bend, but he’s never sure how far.”

“I get that,” Sam said. Especially because she was trying to figure out how far to bend in her own life.

“You are the fiddler, the one who symbolizes Tevye’s struggle.”

Sam nodded.

“Can I count on you two having this short scene worked out by next Friday?”

Sam and Ronnie both nodded.

THE FIRST WEEK of senior year had dragged a little, but after spending most of the weekend with Lisa, Sam had the lift she needed to get through the second week. She filled her free time learning the music for the play. Even though her parents didn’t even know the truth, her mother had reinstated Sam’s Tuesday afternoon sessions with Dr. Boyle. Sam was bummed because she hadn’t been to a session with Dr. Boyle in over a year and thought that part of her life was over. She wanted to protest because the sessions would be in direct conflict with play rehearsals, but she knew better. She shut herself up, and, as usual said, “Yes, Mother.” Sam rarely disobeyed her parents, but if they denied her the opportunity to play her violin in the musical, she just might have to.

Ah, who was she kidding? She’d never get up the nerve to defy them.

Having made it through the second week of school, Sam sat in the theater and watched the actors read through the
To Life
scene. She and Ronnie were scheduled to run through their scene for Mrs. Dickens immediately following. Ronnie was perfect for the lead role of Tevye, and Karl was sounding good as Lazer Wolf, the wealthy butcher of Anatevka. Sam knew Mrs. Dickens thought she was right for the role of the fiddler, but she was nervous. This would be her debut in front of the entire cast and crew, and her stomach was doing flip flops. The only thing that had ever made her more nervous was when she had talked to Lisa for the first time. Sam knew she could play the music but was petrified about the whole acting in front of everybody part. Maybe she would suck at it, and Mrs. Dickens would have to politely tell her to take a hike.

Her cell phone chimed in her hand. A text from Lisa. “On the school bus. Heading home.”

Sam texted back, “In the auditorium. Getting nervous.”

“LOL,” Lisa texted. “Can I call?”

“N.” Sam wished she could sneak into the lobby and talk to Lisa for a while, it might help slow her racing pulse, but she couldn’t risk it. Mrs. Dickens could call her up to the stage at any time. “Going on stage soon,” Sam texted back.

“Good luck.”

“Break a leg!”

“?”

Sam laughed. “Bad luck to wish an actor good luck.”

“Geez! Sorry. Brk a leg! :)”

“Thx. You too! J/K.”

“One broken hand was enuff! I <3 U.”

Sam snuck a peek on the stage. They were wrapping things up. “I heart u 2! Got 2 go. Talk 2nite?”

“Y. C U 2moro?”

“YYYYYYYYY!” Sam remembered that Helene was taking her to the East Valley Post Office the next morning to get her passport renewed, so she added, “CU after PO and lunch with Helene.”

“K. Luv u. TTFN.”

“Ta Ta!” Sam slid the phone into her back pocket. She took a deep breath. Texting with Lisa had happily distracted her a little.

Mrs. Dickens gave the actors on stage some notes and then turned to look for Sam. “Ah, there you are, my dear. Come on up.” She checked something off her ever-present clipboard and whirled her ample girth around toward Ronnie. “Okay, you two. Let’s see what you’ve come up with.”

Sam grabbed her violin and was about to stand up when a girl seated a couple of rows behind her spoke.

“Rich bitch,” the girl with the long blond hair said to her friend sitting next to her. “Her rich daddy probably made us do
Fiddler on the Roof
so his princess could get the lead part.” She snapped her gum as if to emphasize her point.

Sam hated how people judged her without knowing her. She’d like to say it didn’t bother her anymore, but it did. It always did.

Blondie’s friend laughed. “She probably sucks, too.”

“But Mrs. Dickens will let her stay anyway, because Daddy bought her the part.”

Sam almost burst out laughing. If they only knew the truth. Her father would kill her if he knew she was going to be on stage doing musical theater. Of course, once he found out, she probably wouldn’t be doing musical theater ever again. Sam rolled her eyes and pushed the unpleasant thoughts aside. With new resolve, she hopped up the stairs to the stage.

Both Sam and Ronnie had the last period of the day free, and so for four straight days they bolted from their Strings class to the empty theater and blocked out their short scene.

Mrs. Dickens headed down the stage stairs, leaning on Karl. She turned back to Ronnie. “So you’ll start the scene with your appeal to God asking why he’s made your life so hard. Do you two want to run through your marks without the violin first?”

Ronnie, looking smug, simply shook his head.

“Okay then. Have at it.” Mrs. Dickens reached for the whistle on the lanyard around her neck and blew it. All motion stopped in the theater. It was an earsplitting way to get the students’ attention, but it was effective.

Sam checked the tuning on her violin, nodded to Ronnie, and headed into the wings, stage right. Ronnie turned away from Sam and said his lines.

“
L’Chaim
,” Ronnie finished his plea to God and raised an imaginary bottle in salute. He swayed drunkenly across the stage toward Sam.

That was Sam’s cue. She played the first phrase of
If I Were a Rich Man
offstage and then jumped onto the stage. She grinned at Ronnie. He stopped in his tracks surprised by her sudden appearance in front of him.

God, he’s good
. Sam kept the grin plastered on her face. In their four days working together, Ronnie taught her a lot of things about stage direction, like not turning her back to the audience. So far so good.

Ronnie raised one dramatic eyebrow, but basically ignored her and walked away. Sam ran after him while playing the second phrase of the song and then leaped in front of him again. Ronnie stopped again, and Sam was amazed she had actually hit her mark. She was also amazed at how quiet the entire cast and crew were. Maybe they were feeling the symbolism of the moment. Ronnie had explained to Sam that this was a pivotal moment in the play when Tevye had no other choice but to deal with the fiddler blocking his path. The fiddler, representing change, could not be ignored.

After a slow nod from Ronnie, Sam picked up the tune where she had left off. She walked a close circle around him, playing all the while. He shrugged as if resigned to his fate, and they danced together in the middle of stage. Sam increased the pace of the tune to match the frenetic pace of their dancing. Finally, they spun in fast circles, Sam playing frantically as she led them off the stage.

Sam jerked the bow across the strings one last time and then she and Ronnie threw their arms around each other and laughed.

The auditorium burst into applause.

“C’mon,” Ronnie said grabbing her arm, “your first curtain call.”

Sam let Ronnie drag her back onto the stage. The entire cast and crew were on their feet applauding. Ronnie took a bow and then stage pointed at Sam. Sam felt the blush fill her entire face as she bowed quickly and then rolled her eyes at Ronnie.

“
Brava
!” Alivia and Karl called.

Sam smiled at them, and was surprised to see Blondie’s friend on her feet clapping. Blondie, however, sat sullenly in her seat.

Oh, well, ya can’t win ‘em all
, Sam thought.

Mrs. Dickens nodded at her, and Sam smiled. Mrs. Dickens reached for her whistle, and Sam threw her fingers in her ears. Groans filled the auditorium as the shrill whistle pierced the air.

“Seats, everyone.” Mrs. Dickens gestured to the auditorium seats in front of her. “It’s time for the final notes of the day.”

Sam and Ronnie and the few members of the crew that had been in the wings headed for the seats.

Mrs. Dickens nodded at Sam and Ronnie again. “You two have amazing chemistry on stage. Nice performance, both of you, and I don’t have much in the way of notes for you, except that we’re going to have to do something with that long blond hair.”

Sam reached up and touched her head. She must have had a stricken expression on her face because Mrs. Dickens laughed. “A hat, dear, that’s all I meant. Some kind of hat you can tuck your hair under. But you’re going to have to grow a beard and mustache. Can you get that done by opening night?”