EVEN WITH A SCRIPT FROM Chase I’d managed to botch things up. And I hadn’t realized how much my family had been hoping for good news. Mom and Grandma were actually tangoing across the room.
“Wait,” I said. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“She’s right,” said Grandma, pointing at Mom’s feet. “You’re off a step.”
“No,” I said. “I mean—”
Mom squished my face in her hands. “I’m so proud! My daughter . . . star of the school play!”
“But Mom,” I forced the words through chubby cheeks. “It’s not that big a—”
I was going to say “part,” but Dad interrupted this time.
“Of course it’s that big a deal!” he said, tousling my hair.
“We’ve waited forever!” added Grandma.
Dad shot her a warning look and Grandma shrugged. “It’s true.”
Mom waved her away and hugged me tight. “Tonight we’ll do whatever you want to celebrate!”
At the moment all I wanted was to crawl into a hole and die. It was too late to tell them I didn’t get the lead role. The truth would kill them, and then I’d be sent to prison, where nobody won an Oscar.
No, until I could think of something better, I’d have to pretend life was perfect and that my dream had come true.
Summoning a huge smile, I said, “Can we go to Guero’s for dinner? All this excitement’s made me hungry!”
Everyone laughed.
“Of course!” said Dad. “You’ve earned it.”
I should have, for that performance. For good measure, I jumped up and down, clapping my hands and hating myself.
“Yay! Let me get ready!” I grabbed my bag and hurried upstairs. It was too dangerous to call Chase, so I texted him instead.
Help! Parents think I’m a star! I typed.
Guess those astronomy lessons were a waste, he responded.
“Chase!” I squeezed the phone in frustration. This was no time for jokes.
Someone knocked on the other side of my door and I froze.
“Everything okay?” called Mom.
“Yeah! I’m just changing!” I said, pulling on my jeans.
“We’ll be in the car,” said Mom. “Don’t make us wait too long!”
“Be right out!” I told her. I started to type a response to Chase, but the phone vibrated with another message from him.
Okay, bad joke, he typed. Set things straight. Gotta hang w/ my dad and defend theater. Good luck!
With a frustrated sigh, I threw the phone in my purse. No way could I set things straight right now. Not with my family singing some Korean victory song in the driveway. I’d just have to act like I was a good actress.
Ironic.
The second I climbed in the car, my parents and grandmother started firing questions at me, wanting more details about the play.
“What’s your rehearsal schedule?” asked Dad.
“When do rehearsals start?” asked Mom.
“Are you wearing another potato sack?” asked Grandma. “Because last time, I hugged you and got a rash.”
Mom clapped a hand to her forehead and Dad turned his attention to the road.
“You know, I was just so excited, I forgot to ask.” I laughed and shook my head. “I’ll find out tomorrow.”
Mom smiled and nodded, leaning back in her seat, but Grandma just stared at me.
“It took a month for the rash to go away,” she said.
My phone vibrated in my bag and I jumped to answer it, hoping it was Chase. Unfortunately, the caller ID said Stefan. I ignored the insistent buzzing.
Grandma nudged me. “Answer the phone! It could be your drama teacher!”
“It’s Stefan,” I told her. “I’ll call him back later.”
Mom turned around. “He probably wants to know about the play results. You should give him the good news!”
“He did put a lot of effort into your audition,” Dad chimed in.
“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth, and answered the phone.
“Sunny!” chirped Stefan.
I took a deep breath, pasted on a wide grin, and said, “Hey, Stefan! What’s up?”
“Do we have something to celebrate?” he asked.
My whole body stiffened, but I forced myself to keep smiling. “No, not at all!” I said. At the curious look from my family, I put my hand over the mouthpiece and told them, “He wants to know if he’s interrupting.”
“Ahhh,” said my mother with a nod of understanding.
“Awww!” said Stefan with a tone of anguish. “They gave you a crappy little part again, didn’t they?”
“They sure did!” I said with a laugh and a wink at my grandma.
“Well, this is crazy,” said Stefan. “I’ll talk to Ms. Elliott and figure out what happened. You did not deserve to be overlooked.”
The smile on my face was genuine now.
“Thanks, Stefan,” I said.
“I’ll call you when I have info,” he said and hung up.
I put my phone down and Grandma frowned.
“You done talking? He didn’t want details?”
“Uh . . . no,” I said, thinking fast. “He had to go. There was something burning on the stove.”
“I didn’t know Stefan could cook,” said Mom.
“He can’t. That’s why it was burning. Look, there’s Guero’s!” I pointed out the window, grateful for a change of subject.
We pulled into the parking lot, and Dad walked around to my side.
“Celebrities first,” he said, opening the door.
“Consider us your entourage,” added Mom.
Two parents and an old lady with a potato sack allergy. That seemed like the kind of entourage I deserved.
“Thank you,” I said, ducking my head modestly as I climbed out of the car.
Guero’s was famous for their garlic bread, which I normally loved, but this time I couldn’t bring myself to eat more than half a slice.
“You okay?” asked Mom, rubbing my shoulder. “I thought you liked the bread here.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Chase and I shared a muffin after school. I guess I’m still kind of full.”
She nodded and brushed my hair away from my face.
“We should ask Chase and his father over for dinner,” said Dad. “I like talking politics with him.”
“Sunny should marry the boy,” said Grandma. “He would make a fine husband.”
My parents exchanged looks, and I blushed.
“Grandma, I’m thirteen,” I said. “And Chase and I aren’t like that. We’re just friends.”
Grandma waggled a finger in my face. “Your grandfather and I were just friends. But then he gave me a pig.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Chase gave you a muffin,” said Grandma.
“Because we’re friends,” I said again. “Not because he likes me. There’re no farm animals in my future.”
“Maybe not,” Dad chimed in. “But what your grandmother says isn’t that strange. Your mom even did a one-woman show about a princess who received cattle as marriage offers.” He smiled and took Mom’s hand. “What did you call it?”
She smiled back. “The Cow Girl.”
Dad chuckled. “The people who went to see it were expecting a Western about cowgirls.”
Everyone laughed, and I nibbled on garlic bread, picturing my mom in a one-woman show. She would have been the top-billed and only star, every actress’s ultimate dream. I could only hope someday—
Wait! Why not now?
I gasped in excitement and inhaled a bite of bread. When I started coughing, everyone glanced over in alarm, and Grandma whacked me on the back. Before she could break my spine, I gave a thumbs-up and took a long drink of soda.
“Are you okay?” asked Mom.
I nodded.
I was more than okay. I was brilliant!
The moment I got home, I called Stefan. My plan was way too exciting to wait until after he’d talked to Ms. Elliott.
If CAA wasn’t going to choose me to star in any of their shows, I’d just have to star in my own. That way, I’d be telling my family the truth and I’d get the part I always wanted. Plus, I was pretty sure nobody in CAA history had ever attempted a one-girl show. I’d be a legend!
“Hello?” said Stefan over a background madness of barking and squawking.
His parents owned a cute pet shop called Feathers ’N’ Fangs, and sometimes he covered the register.
“Stefan?” I asked. “Are you at work?”
“Yeah, but with all the whining and screeching, it could just as easily be Idol auditions.”
I laughed. “Why don’t you tell the animals to be quiet?”
“I can’t. When I raise my voice, the rabbits freak out and go bald,” he said. “What’s up? I haven’t called Ms. Elliott yet.”
“That’s fine,” I said, settling on the floor by my bed. “I’ve got an even better plan that’ll make me famous.”
“Uh-oh,” said Stefan. “You’re not going to jump off the roof with a cape again, are you?”
“Of course not.” I lifted the corner of my comforter and ducked under it, pushing aside a stack of DVDs to look for scripts. One of the perks of having parents in the film business was access to loads of movie junk. “What would you say if I told you I was doing a one-girl show?”
Stefan gasped. “I’d say you’re brilliant!” He paused. “Oops. A rabbit just lost some fur.”
I pulled a stack of scripts into my lap and flipped through them. “I could use help, though,” I said. “I’m not sure what piece to do. You think I should ask Bree too?”
She knew every play from Annie to Ziegfeld Girl.
“I think first you should clear your idea with Ms. Elliott,” said Stefan.
I paused. “Oh . . . right.” A feeling of dread crept up my spine. “You don’t think she’ll say no, do you?”
“Maybe,” he said. “You’re competing for stage time with the Mary Pops In cast.”
“Right,” I said again, biting my lip. I hadn’t seen much of the script, but from what I’d heard, there were at least three dance numbers, including the chimney sweep waltz and a hip-hop dance to “Tuppence a Bag, Y’all.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to her tomorrow morning,” I said.
“Great! Keep me posted?” Stefan asked.
“Of course!” I said, with more enthusiasm than I actually felt. Asking Ms. Elliott’s permission had been the last thing on my mind. If she wouldn’t let me do my show, I was sunk.
With a heavy sigh, I hefted my scripts onto the bed and joined them, tucking my stuffed dog Rufus under one arm. I was too old for toys, but he was the closest thing to a pet I’d ever had . . . other than one poor, trampled hamster.
My parents bought Rufus when I was five, swearing that he came to life at bedtime. I probably would have believed it forever if I hadn’t accidentally popped out one of Rufus’s eyes.
To keep me from needing extensive therapy, my parents confessed that he wasn’t real and that Dad was allergic to dogs. They’d lied about Rufus to spare my feelings.
At the time I’d been furious, but now that I was in their shoes I kind of understood why they did it.
Sometimes you just couldn’t disappoint family.