Rehearsals were my escape from the drama in my life. I remembered what Mrs. Stevens said about my feedback to people. Maybe I had been a bit harsh. For example, the chorus dancers were good, though one of them almost poked Alvin in the eye once. But I didn’t yell and scream at the girl. I didn’t call out her mistake. I simply wrote it in my confessions.
CONFESSION #116:
Girl with the razor-sharp elbows and two left feet! Watch yourself! If you knock Scarecrow’s eyes out, we’re gonna have to rewrite the musical so Scarecrow begs for a brain AND an eye from the Wizard!
We started rehearsing the big dance numbers, which involved nearly all the cast members. Even I had trouble remembering every single dance move. But there were some kids who struggled more than others.
Take Jermaine Hill. When everyone went left, he went right. Every. Single. Time. I didn’t say anything bad about him out loud, I typed my opinions in my blog:
Jermaine, this is how you find left. Stick two hands out in front of you. Hold your thumbs out, and your pointer fingers up. Whichever hand makes an L shape, that’s “left”! Didn’t we learn this when we were in kindergarten?
And even after we put oil on Tinman, he still looked stiff while we danced to “Ease on Down the Road.” But I said nothing. I just wrote it down in my secret blog.
Kevin dances like my great-grandfather (who’s dead)—stiff, like a cardboard box.
And I know Stacey Blackstone was supposed to be Evillene, but I wasn’t sure she was really…believable. Where was the edge? The side-eye? See, this is where Nia could have really shined had she considered auditioning. I took out my tablet again:
Nia would have made a great Wicked Witch of the West. Nia is a queen of side-eye and shade! The way that she’s mad at me these days, she clearly has the anger. Maybe she can be a stand-in during one of our rehearsals.
I admit, not every performance of mine was perfect, either. I’d had my share of off notes or forgetting a line here or there. When I missed my cue during the Lion’s big number, I caught it before anyone else did. “Darn it!” I said out loud. I felt that stabbing pain behind my eye. “It’s okay, June, keep going,” Mrs. Stevens encouraged. Maybe she didn’t catch my mistake, but I did. But it also fueled me to hit my marks for the rest of the rehearsal.
CONFESSION #124:
This is where I belong. On the stage. Performing in front of an audience. Singing my little lungs out. Acting! This is different from other things I’m good at. I can study to be good at math. I can practice to be good at field hockey. But acting takes natural skill. It’s like I’m myself, but better! I mean, I have to learn lines and practice dance moves, but it doesn’t feel like work.
I feel like I’m really in my groove.
I could really be an actress.
After The Wiz, I should get an agent, like Ayanna Pullman has. Maybe I should talk to her about life in Hollywood? I mean, she was an extra in that Fast and Furious movie last year. And then I could get a manager. And then my dad will see how serious I’m taking this acting thing and what a great advisement team I have around me. And then my career will take off, and then I’ll be in movies, and get paid, and be able to buy things, and pay for my own college, and buy a few houses and my father wouldn’t be able to say I didn’t have a real career! In fact, maybe I could hire him to be my lawyer!
The trickiest part of my schedule these days was managing The Wiz rehearsals with newspaper meetings. Rehearsals were every day, and newspaper meetings were Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Ms. West was understanding about my conflict and assured me I could drop into newspaper meetings whenever I could to pitch stories. But I still wanted to be an active part of the paper, no matter how much I had going on with The Wiz and school. After all, I’d had a story on the front page of the paper last semester. I loved seeing my name on the front page, and I wanted more front-page stories. But I hadn’t written a great story since then. I didn’t want people to forget me, or my solid news reporting abilities.
On Monday, I popped into the newspaper meeting, knowing that the day’s rehearsals were going to be mainly for the orchestra and backup dancers. A few kids were typing away at computers and Ms. West was chatting with three other students. “So your stories will run next week,” Ms. West told them. “Love the one about the eighth-grade knitting club.”
“We have a knitting club?” I jumped in.
One of the girls turned toward me. “Yes, and it’s nine members deep! We started it over winter break because we got knitting sets for Christmas. We’ve all made scarves together.”
The girl held up a bulky multicolored piece of stretchy yarn that she had tucked under her arm. I raised my eyebrows and nodded, smiling politely. The three girls walked toward the computers, and I fished my phone out to type a quick blog post right there on the spot, before I blurted out something I would regret:
This is newsworthy? Maybe they need a knitting advisor to help them make things people would actually wear.
“Hi, June,” Ms. West said. “Nice to see you. How are rehearsals going?”
I quickly tucked my phone into my pocket. “They’re great!” I said. “My first time acting, but I don’t want it to be the last.”
Ms. West nodded. “That’s great. We’ll probably do a story on opening night. I’m surprised you had time to come here. What’s going on today?”
“I thought you’d need a story from me for the paper,” I said. “You gotta have at least one hard-hitting journalist reporting on what’s going on in the halls of FCMS.”
Ms. West laughed. “Thanks, June. We have plenty of students contributing. In fact, we’re all full up for the next issue. We’re working on the issue coming out in three weeks.”
I held my breath. So I hadn’t been missed while I was away? Did Ms. West find someone else to do the front-page stories already? “Well, who is covering the news?”
“All of these kids!” Ms. West said. “We’ve got a profile on our football team for sports, we’ve got a story on the guest speaker coming next week during our all-school assembly, and we’ve got a piece on the new knitting club.”
None of these stories sounded as interesting as mine. My hand was right on my phone, ready to write down what I really thought of these ideas so I didn’t say how bored I was of them out loud. “Oh! I know!” I blurted out. “What about a profile of me, the lead actress in the play?”
Ms. West looked at me. Then she raised an eyebrow. “You’re pitching a story about yourself for the paper?”
“Well, yes, I’m the lead actress! People want to know about me, right? It could be a profile on how I became an actress!”
Ms. West pursed her lips together and clasped her hands under her chin. “June, it’s awesome you’re the lead in the play. The week of the performances, we’ll do a story on the production.”
“Yeah, of course,” I said. “But you could do one on me before that.”
Ms. West clasped her hands tighter. “I think we’ll just do the one big story on the cast. We’re packed with stories leading up to that week anyway.”
Ms. West walked toward the girls who’d pitched the story about the knitting club. I looked around the newsroom. Kids were busy going over notes and chatting excitedly about their stories. Ms. West gave one of them a high five. Was she not interested in my story idea? In my acting? But I was way more interesting than a knitting club! I was a field hockey–playing straight-A student who had never acted before and who had nailed the audition for the leading role in The Wiz! That was cover story material!
I sat down on the couch near the front of the newsroom and took out my phone. I felt a burning sensation in my belly, rising to my throat. I felt—gulp!—like I was no longer needed at the paper. Could that be possible?! I started to type before my mouth started talking.
CONFESSION #126:
Knitting club, seriously??? Knitting is the most boring thing ever! No one buys tickets to watch people knit! Famous knitters do not make the front page of newspapers. Or covers of magazines!
How am I not on the front page of the Featherstone Post? I am the lead actress in The Wiz! Surely all the teachers are talking about me, right? Breakout star? Does Ms. West know how hard I worked to get this role? How much studying goes into this role? Well, maybe I should pitch my story to a real news outlet. Like People magazine! Or Variety! Then I’d really get myself a top agent, like the one Ayanna Pullman has!