CHAPTER 28

 

Because I don’t like it when anybody does something sneaky without telling me (like studying to be a cop without informing his children), I tell Mom and Dad that I got a “teeny, tiny part” in the Shakespeare Down the Shore show.

“Will it interfere with your work schedule?” asks Dad.

“No. This part is so small, I’ll probably only have to go to one rehearsal. Maybe one and a half.”

Mom tells me to “have fun with it.”

“But don’t neglect your other responsibilities,” adds Dad.

“Yeah,” says Riley, who doesn’t want to wind up getting stuck on permanent Emma-watching duty.

The first rehearsal is after work. I meet Bill at the T-Shirt Hut so we can walk over to the church together. We need to talk.

“Sorry about saying that stuff about you being jealous,” I tell him.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Bob is turning into a decent human being,” I tell Bill. “I think we should encourage that.”

“Definitely,” says Bill. “The more decent human beings, the better.” He pauses. “So does this mean we can’t call him Bubblebutt anymore?”

“Not if we want to be, you know, decent human beings.”

Bill nods. “What about Ringworm?”

I think about that for a second. “I guess it’s okay for now. I don’t even know his real name.”

“Cool.”

“Pals?” I say, holding out my hand.

“Pals,” says Bill, taking it.

We shake. But Bill doesn’t let go of my hand exactly when he should, if you know what I mean. He lingers. I don’t mind. Lingering feels good. You know what else feels good? Being able to just talk to him.

The church basement rehearsal hall is buzzing with electricity, and not just because that’s where the circuit breaker box is located. Everyone is super-excited about our first read-through of the script.

I still get that tingly feeling every time I start a show. The sense that anything is possible. That adventure awaits. And that my fellow travelers are just as jazzed as I am to be making the trip into the unknown together.

Dan, Meredith, and Jeff come into the basement a few minutes after Bill and me.

We all say hello to Latoya Sherron and she says hello to us, just like she weren’t a big star, which, of course, she totally is. Riley has cartoons of her and MC Hammer on her lunch box (which used to be my lunch box).

Ms. O’Mara introduces us to Oliver and Quinn Reinhardt. They’re twins, even though they don’t look exactly alike. Oliver will be playing Lysander, one of the young lovers in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. His brother, Quinn, is playing Demetrius.

“Shakespeare was big on twins and mistaken identities,” says Quinn.

“But not in Dream,” says Oliver. “In this play, my character, Lysander, loves Hermia and she loves Lysander.”

“But,” says Quinn, “my character, Demetrius, used to love Helena, but now he loves Hermia, too. Hermia’s dad thinks I’m a better match for his daughter than Lysander, so he gets the duke of Athens to force Hermia to marry me.”

“Even though Hermia would much rather marry me,” says Oliver.

“And Helena still has the hots for me,” says Quinn.

We all just stand there and nod. Shakespeare is more complicated than a soap opera that’s been on TV since forever.

“A lot of Shakespeare’s plays start with a father trying to block his daughter’s true love or passion,” explains Ms. O’Mara.

Hmm, I think. Sounds vaguely familiar.

“Okay, is everybody here?” asks the guy with the goatee. He is, indeed, our director. His name is Scott.

“We’re still missing Travis Wormowitz,” reports Ms. O’Mara.

“Right,” says Scott. “Our Puck…”

“Sorry I’m late!” booms Travis, appearing, right on cue, at the top of the staircase. He does some dainty fairy skips down the steps, making a grand, dramatic entrance, while reciting Puck’s final speech from the play.

I could have said the lines with Travis because I’ve memorized them. It’s what we understudies do.

We just don’t always get a chance to say them out loud.