“Do I haaaaaave to?” I asked Mom. On Wednesday she was still hounding me to tell Dad about the audition, even though it was two and a half weeks away. And I still didn’t want to tell him until I was absolutely 100 percent sure I could even get a role in the play.
“Why don’t you want to tell him?” Mom asked. “Sweetie, he’ll be so proud!”
A weight started to fill my chest. Like a feeling of two heavy iron doors trying to protect my heart from attack, or protect my feelings from getting hurt. I just couldn’t see Dad being super supportive of me wanting to pursue something so…not academic.
Every time one of our family friends or someone from the neighborhood talks about how they are pursuing acting, or writing a book, or working on their music, Dad always calls it their “side hustle.” As if none of those creative pursuits could possibly be considered real jobs. I mean, Featherstone Creek is just outside Atlanta, which is literally Black Hollywood. Tyler Perry owns a multi-gabillion-dollar studio here. Music producers are a dime a dozen here, and all of them have mansions and expensive cars and gold records lining their walls like subway tiles. So I knew it was possible to make a successful career out of the arts…. Plus, Dad just wasn’t big into sharing thoughts and feelings to begin with—and isn’t that what made someone a good actor? A person who could draw on their inner thoughts and feelings and feed it into the character they were playing? Sounded like Dad’s worst nightmare.
“Honey, there’s more than one way to be successful besides going to school and being a doctor, lawyer, or accountant, you know,” I overheard Mom say to Dad once.
“Of course I know,” Dad had replied. “But the more time spent studying books to earn a degree, the more likely the success.”
“You can get a degree in film production these days, dear,” Mom had said to him. “Steven Spielberg has one. Look at him.”
“Yeah, but he’s Spielberg. Besides, he dropped out to make a movie!”
“Spike Lee?”
“I’m just saying, Audrey. Actors, musicians…it’s hard to be the next Halle Berry or Quincy Jones. If you wanted to be an actress, your multigenerational MD family in Featherstone Creek would have provided for you if you didn’t make it. But you’re not most people. Not everyone has family to fall back on,” he had said pointedly.
Dad had sat me down a few weeks ago to tell me how hard it had been for him to work his way up to being a lawyer. He didn’t have a successful, wealthy family to support him like my mom did—he had to do it all himself. And even though he and Mom were successful, I could only imagine how much he would talk me out of following the unknown path of the arts on principle.
My thoughts pulled me back to the present. “You know he hates theater,” I blurted out to my mom. I didn’t know if that was entirely true. Oh, now watch, Victoria’s going to find me! “Well, it seems like it anyway…,” I said, correcting myself. Phew, that’s better. “I didn’t think he was a big fan of, like, creative types. He always cracks jokes that actors need to get real jobs to get health insurance.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Mom replied. “And you think Michael B. Jordan needs a side hustle to get health insurance? He plays superheroes in huge-budget Hollywood movies!”
“Okay, that’s one example,” I said. “But Dad’s not really going to be cool with his daughter pursuing those things. You know, Mr. Howard Law. You saw what happened when I didn’t want to do debate team.”
“That was different,” Mom said. “For one, you insulted him when you told him you didn’t want to do it. And for two, he’s already told you he’d support any new endeavor you were really passionate about.”
“Yeah, but that’s another thing! I don’t even know if I’ll get a role. That’s why I was going to wait until I auditioned. If I don’t get a part, then why bother him with the news? But if I do, then that proves I’m actually good at acting, and then he’ll be more likely to be nice about it.”
Mom stood in front of me for a few seconds, silent, then cupped her hand around my chin. “You’ll get a role if you want this bad enough. You’ll rehearse, and you’ll sing your heart out, and you’ll achieve whatever you want to achieve. And your dad will support you no matter what. I’ll make sure of it.”
For the past week, I’d been rehearsing any spare moment I could, particularly when Dad wasn’t home. He had been working late on a few cases, which bought me some extra time in the evenings. But my best time to rehearse was in the morning on my walk to school, humming the songs to myself while Nia and Olive gossiped about friends and what they saw on Instagram, or waiting for Mom to pick me up after class. Like today, a Friday afternoon, Mom was late picking me up from school because she had an unexpected delivery, so I watched more YouTube clips of Diana Ross singing in the movie while I was waiting.
When Mom pulled up, she saw the video playing on my phone in my hand. “Ah, practicing any moment you can get?”
“Yup,” I said.
“You tell your dad yet?” Mom asked, knowing full well I had not.
I looked at her with pleading eyes. I really didn’t want to disrupt dinner tonight, much less my concentration ahead of the audition in a few weeks, with this kind of pressure. It was bound to turn into a big argument, and I couldn’t handle that before seeing if I even had the chops to make the cast.
Mom took pity on me. “Okay, you can hold off on telling your father until you see if you make the cast. Audition. Then tell him as soon as you find out if you’ve made it. Time’s ticking, kiddo.”
I retreated to my room after dinner that night so I could avoid any questions from Dad. I thought about what he might say if I told him I was auditioning. I could hear him now: “Don’t think about becoming an actress before graduating college.”
Just thinking about his reaction made me feel short of breath, and I had a headache coming on. Then I spotted dust floating in front of my eyes. A funnel cloud formed in front of me, spinning rapidly. I knew who was about to drop in for another visit. Victoria. The last person I wanted to see.
A female form popped out in front of me, the tiara on her head cocked over to one side. “June, my darling! How are you?”
I coughed, clearing my throat of the fairy dust her funnel cloud of magic had kicked up around the room. “Victoria.”
I thought about how Victoria tended to follow me around during the day. Did she literally walk behind me from class to class, invisible to everyone else, just like a ghost? Was she sitting at the cafeteria table alongside us when we were all talking about the play? Or did she shape-shift, transforming into, say, the body of Mrs. Worth, so she could see us through the eyes of real people? Or did she remain floating fairy dust until I attempted to lie, sparking the dust to take form and produce Victoria? I was still unclear on how she appeared right at the most annoying times, but the woman seriously had a knack for it.
She straightened her tiara. “This thing is so heavy…ah, better. So, let’s deal with the task at hand! Love that you’re going to audition for the school musical, June, darling! But when exactly are you planning to tell your father about it?”
I groaned. I knew I was supposed to tell the truth. Victoria wasn’t going to like it, but I had to be honest about…not being honest.
“I’m not planning to tell him now. Or anytime soon.”
“Why not, June?”
“I just told him I didn’t want to go to law school like a minute ago! Why disappoint him again so soon?”
“Who says he’ll be disappointed? He wants you to pursue whatever makes you happy.”
Victoria waved her magic wand in front of my face, and then over my head and shoulders. “How do you feel when you think about the school musical? When you sing the songs to yourself, or in the shower like you did the day the principal made the announcement?”
I thought about the time I’d spent rehearsing the songs and dances this past week ahead of my audition. How the movements felt natural. How the singing seemed to help me calm down, even when my stomach was fluttering with nervousness about stuff I was usually freaked out about, like school and all my responsibilities and commitments and potentially upsetting my parents or friends. Focusing on The Wiz made me feel…it made me feel…
“I feel really happy.”
“Yeah, I can tell. Just the mere mention of The Wiz makes you smile.”
I guessed I was smiling in front of her pretty big. Victoria turned me to face my mirror and leaned toward me. “June, you should tell your dad as soon as possible. Your mom has been supportive, and I’m sure he will be, too. If he needs a good reason as to why you’re doing it, your smile will be enough. Tell him the truth. Don’t forget, the only way you’ll get the spell lifted is if you tell the truth at all times—to everyone, even if you’re worried about how they’ll react.”
Victoria stepped back a few paces from me and began to turn around. She kicked up fairy dust once again, turning faster and faster until a tight tornado of glitter covered her body. Then, in a poof, she disappeared into thin air, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Maybe Dad would be happy for me. I mean, he did promise to support things that made me happy after we had our big talk about me not knowing if being a lawyer was what I wanted to do. And besides, I was only eleven! I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. All I knew was now, in sixth grade, in my first year at Featherstone Creek Middle School, I wanted to be a part of the school musical because The Wiz was the most magical show I’d ever seen.
I heard a buzzing sound coming from my book bag, and I realized I was getting a video call. I reached for my phone. Chloe!
“Hey, girl!” she said. “What’s cracking?”
“Nothing, just over here plotting my new career path as an actrizzzzz.”
“Whaaat? Since when?”
“Since they announced they are putting on a production of The Wiz at school.”
“Cool! You’ve seen that movie like a thousand times. You’d be a great Dorothy!”
“You think?” I asked. I let myself visualize landing the lead. Wearing those sparkly silver shoes. Dancing arm in arm with the Scarecrow, Lion, and Tinman. Clicking my heels three times to get myself back home while holding on to my dear puppy, Toto.
“But I’ve never acted before,” I said, my doubt bubbling back up to the surface. It was one thing to audition for the show and end up a Munchkin or a Winkie—but it was quite another to think I had a shot at getting the lead role.
“But you know how to study and memorize schoolwork, like formulas and facts and stuff. Same thing. Memorizing lines. Reciting them back. You got this.”
It was the same thing. Roughly. I visualized myself on the stage, singing and dancing. If I got a background role in the chorus, at least I could just dance my way out of forgetting any lyrics.
“Let’s rehearse right now! Let me hear it—‘Can you! Feel a! Brand new day!’ ” Chloe said, breaking out into song. I couldn’t help but sing and dance along. I propped the phone up on some books on my desk and began dancing around my room. Chloe clapped and followed along, dancing around her room, too. I got caught up in the rhythm, the rush of the song, just like Diana Ross did when she sang along with a hundred Winkies that transform from ugly to beautiful, free dancers. Free, happy, light, and optimistic.
That was me.
“You’re right,” I told Chloe, realization dawning upon me. “I’m going to audition for the role of Dorothy!”