Finally, after months of rehearsals, of singing in the shower, of practicing dance moves as I walked to school…it was showtime—opening night was tonight. And as much as I’d studied, rehearsed, sang, and watched YouTube clips of this musical, I still didn’t feel ready. For one, I still didn’t have the support of my best friend. Nia hadn’t been returning any of my text messages or hanging out with me after school, partly because of basketball, but mostly because she was still upset with me after the Lee situation had gone down. And when I did get a response after sending twenty texts in a row…
JUNE: Hey.
She responded with short answers.
As soon as I woke up in the morning on the day of opening night, I sent one last text to her.
I started to feel the nerves in my stomach.
I took a breath, tired of fighting with her already.
She didn’t respond.
So I put down my phone.
Besides Nia, I still hadn’t yet told my dad I was starring in The Wiz. And I knew I had to. This was my last chance before the musical opened, and I didn’t want Victoria to keep the spell on me forever, much less do something to embarrass me during my very first performance, like give me a sneezing fit or two left feet onstage. The universe had thrown me a bone—Dad had been pulling a lot of late nights at the office working on a big case, so he hadn’t seen me come home late from rehearsal every day the past few months. But that had just given me an excuse to prolong the suspense. We were coming down to the final hours before the show. I had to tell him now, or never.
As I lay in bed I felt jittery and my anxiety was raging—no amount of deep breathing or meditation could calm me down right now. It felt like there was a Ping-Pong ball bouncing around in my insides. But I was hungry—I could have eaten anything that was hot and put on a plate in front of me. I had to go downstairs to breakfast, face my father, and confess the truth about the play. I steeled myself and swung my legs out of bed.
I dressed slowly and mindlessly, like I was swimming through water, and packed my backpack full of snacks, makeup, hair accessories, and everything else I could possibly need to get me through a full day of school and rehearsal, and straight to the play’s opening notes at 7:00 p.m.
I stuck my head in the pantry looking for food just as my dad came downstairs to leave for work. “Hey, June, how’s my baby girl doing?”
“Good,” I said, grabbing a bowl of cornflakes and a banana and sitting down at our kitchen table. Mom walked into the kitchen quietly, observing our conversation.
“What’s going on at school today?” he asked. This was my opening. I looked up at him. I had to find the words.
That familiar feeling of word vomit rose from my throat to my mouth and I knew there was no holding back. I wasn’t even going to try to hold back this time. I instead looked at my dad and smiled, hoping the smile might make the truth sound a little better than it was, instead of it sounding like I was too scared to tell him months ago.
“I’m, um…I’m starring in the school musical today.”
My dad looked at me blankly.
I cleared my throat and started again. “I’m starring in the school musical. The school is putting on a version of The Wiz, and I’ve been cast as Dorothy. And our first performance is tonight.”
He stared at me, realization slowly dawning on his face. Then, suddenly, he looked as if I’d told him the biggest news to hit Featherstone Creek in decades. He sat down in a kitchen chair and held his chin thoughtfully. “You’re the lead role? Why…what…that’s great, June!”
This was not the reaction I expected. I was surprised. No anger? No “This is going to take time away from your studies”? No questioning about how I would support myself?
I gave a half smile. Dad leaned again toward me. “But how did I not know about this earlier?” Because I made it my life’s mission for the past few months not to tell you? I thought to myself. I took a breath. The truth might even win me some sympathy from him. Here goes….
“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think you’d be supportive. You might see this as another distraction from school. So I was scared.”
The caterpillar eyebrows scrunched together. Oh man, the telltale sign he was upset was when those eyebrows looked like caterpillars kissing. “June, you never have to be scared to tell me anything. I thought we went through this. I’m always going to be here for you.”
“But you’ve always said that actors don’t have real jobs.”
Dad cleared his throat and looked at my mother. She raised an eyebrow. That was the look she gave him when someone had, in fact, told the truth and Dad could not wiggle his way out of the facts.
“Honey, this is acting in your school play. This is your very first time acting in anything. Why would I put all that kind of pressure on you, to expect that you would make a career out of it?”
I looked at him. “What if I do want to make a career out of it, Dad? I really like acting! I really like how I feel when I’m acting.”
My dad sat at the table and looked between my mom and me. “Did you know about this?” he asked her.
“She told me a while back, and I promised to let her tell you herself,” Mom said.
Dad looked frustrated. “I’m upset that I’m the last person to know about this. I would have wanted to celebrate! When exactly did you get the news, June?”
My nose prickled. I cleared my throat. “The audition was the Monday after Thanksgiving break.”
Dad pretended to smack his hand against his forehead. “I could have been bragging to my friends since November that my baby was going to be Dorothy in the school play?!”
He stood up from the table and looked for his phone. “If my baby girl is going to play Dorothy in The Wiz, then I want to be there. The whole town should be there. Will the whole town be there? I should invite my entire firm. Where can I buy tickets?”
The entire town? Would the entire town be there? Mom’s family? Uncle Ray? Nia’s family?
I looked at him and blinked quickly in response. I suddenly felt intensely queasy, and hoped my cornflakes stayed in my belly. I could imagine seeing Dad from the stage—I’d pictured it for months. But I had purposely blocked from my head the vision of hundreds of people sitting in the seats judging my performance so I didn’t get stage fright. But now I felt it. I had a headache. My stomach tightened. And then, more word vomit came out. “Maybe you shouldn’t come,” I said in a panic, and immediately sucked in my breath.
Did I just disinvite my own father to the school musical?!
“Maybe you shouldn’t come, uh, because it’s, like, it’s my first performance and you know I’m nervous enough already,” I stammered. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
He backed away from me, the eyebrows drawing closer together on his forehead. “Are you saying you don’t want me there?”
“No, I’m just saying, like, I don’t know….” My stomach got even queasier. My dad looked disappointed, more disappointed than when I told him that I didn’t want to go to Howard. The anxiety over opening night, over my performance, over the audience, over my dad—every bad feeling swelled up in my stomach all at once. And I couldn’t breathe.
Dad looked at me, confused. I couldn’t stomach my fear and this uncomfortable conversation one second longer. I was making things messier with every word. I felt like I’d been hit by a bus—anxious about performing, nervous about telling Dad the truth, and the cornflakes wanted to hurl themselves from my belly, so I got up from the table and ran into the washroom before they could, and I sat on the floor of the bathroom, alone, wishing I could click my heels like Dorothy does in the musical and instantly be back in my bedroom, safely under the covers.
As I sat there grabbing my knees, trying to get my stomach to feel a little better, I noticed a small sprinkle of dust in the air. It grew to a larger sprinkle of dust, and then a tall body of dust. Victoria had squeezed her way into this half bathroom. Privacy was just not a virtue of this spell.
“Are you happy now?” I asked. “Told my dad the whole thing.” I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I’d been awake for maybe thirty minutes and I was already exhausted. I wanted to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers. I wanted this day to be over already.
“I can see that,” Victoria said. She crouched down by me and took my hands in hers. “I also think nerves have gotten the best of you, honey.”
“I’m only about to give the most important performance of my life in front of my father and mother and the entire town! Except for my best friend because she wants nothing to do with me!” I wailed, and hiccuped.
Victoria sat down next to me. “Take one breath at a time, and think about one minute at a time. The only thing you must do right now is go out there and tell your dad you want him to come to the show tonight. Start there.”
“And then what?”
“And then go to school, and don’t think any more about that musical until you step on that stage. You’ve prepared, and you have rehearsed. You’re going to make a wonderful Dorothy. That’s it!”
“Are you sure?” I asked, wiping at my tears and sniffling.
“I’m positive of it. Now, go back outside and re-invite your father to the show.”
Victoria disappeared in a poof. I gathered my wits about me. I took a few deep breaths and stood up. I looked at myself in the mirror. I memorized my lines. I’ve rehearsed. I’m ready.
I opened the bathroom door and I walked out ready to properly invite my dad to the show. I took another deep breath and walked into the kitchen. I looked around. No dad, no briefcase. He was already gone.
Mom looked over at me and put her hands on my shoulders. I felt even more worried. “I just made it all worse. He might not even come!”
“He’ll be there,” Mom said. “Meanwhile, it’s late. I saw Nia and Olive walk by already.”
“Nia doesn’t want to see me. She’s already told me she’s not coming tonight.”
“Really?” Mom said with eyebrows raised.
“I’ve made a mess of everything,” I admitted, and hung my head.
Mom squeezed my shoulders. “C’mon, baby, I’ll give you a ride to school.”
We drove to school quickly—my mother was already wearing her scrubs and was planning to head to the hospital for a delivery right afterward. “Cheer up, honey, tonight is your big night!”
“But my people won’t be there to support me. No Dad, no Nia….”
Mom pulled into the circular drive in front of school and put the car in park. I unbuckled my seat belt so I could jump out. “First, Nia. What’s going on there? You guys drifting apart or something?”
“No!” I exclaimed. “Nia’s my very best friend.”
“Have you told her that lately?” Mom asked, and pursed her lips. “Have you explained how much she really means to you? That you two are practically sisters? That she’s been there for you for every big moment in your life?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess I assumed she knew.”
“Why don’t you tell her? Write her a note of appreciation. Tell her you can’t be Dorothy without her support.”
Mom stroked my cheek with her hand and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll be here for the start of the show, I promise.”
“We?” I asked hopefully.
“Yes, your dad and I. I’ll get him there, don’t worry. Remember, think of yourself on that stage, having fun with your friends, doing what you love. You got this!”
I gave my mom a smile and got out of the car. I pulled my backpack over my shoulder, took a deep breath, and walked toward the door with my head held high. Maybe she’s right, I thought. I mean, she has played Dorothy before. She’d know a Dorothy when she saw one.