Chapter Five

Mr. Wolcott posted the cast list at the end of the day, after the last bell, when everyone was rushing outside to get in one of the yellow buses assembled in the parking lot. “Great timing,” Truman grumbled, rolling his eyes.

He backtracked to the bulletin board, where several people had already gathered, checking to see what parts they got—or didn’t get.

Stacy Timmons was directly in front of him. She squealed with glee. As she turned away from the bulletin board, she saw him. “I got the part I wanted. Myrtle Mae! Can you believe it?”

Yes, Truman could believe it and had actually foreseen no other outcome. But he was touched by her excitement and her genuine modesty. It was sweet.

A couple of kids moved away so Truman could finally get up close to see what part he’d gotten.

Harvey Cast

Myrtle Mae Simmons… Stacy Timmons

Veta Louise Simmons… Amber Wolfgang

Elwood P. Dowd… Rex Lucas

Miss Johnson… Megan Schmidbauer

Mrs. Ethel Chauvenet… Maryalice Frederick

Ruth Kelly, RN… Lori Moynagh

Duane Wilson… Michael Burt

Lyman Sanderson, MD… Craig Kennedy

William R. Chumley, MD… John Soldano

Betty Chumley… Tiffany Gilpin

Judge Omar Gaffney… Sam Mainhardt

EJ Lofgren… Kirk Nizer

Understudies… Jessica Stringfellow, Tommy Blevins

Truman’s heart dropped with a thud to his gut, which was suddenly swirling with acid. He read the list over once more, sure his eyes had deceived him.

I had to have gotten a part! Even EJ Lofgren, the cabdriver! A small—but important—role, at least. And I nailed the audition. Nailed it. This has to be a mistake. Truman tried to swallow but found no spit in his dry mouth. He wanted to cry and felt a lump the size of a tangerine in his throat threatening to cut off his air supply, but he wouldn’t yield to the tears of disappointment lingering within him. God, it was embarrassing enough not to be picked, let alone crying like a two-year-old in front of everyone.

He noticed someone had moved close, just by his left shoulder. He turned and looked at Stacy, standing there. “You’re going to do great. I can’t wait to work with you on this.”

What? Now this bitch is gonna have the nerve to rub it in? He was just on the verge of channeling Alicia and cutting Stacy down with some genuinely mean snark when he thought he should double-check just what the hell the girl was yammering about.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at her. He reminded himself to shut his open mouth. “What? I didn’t get a part.” It cut like a knife to say this, to make it real in his head all over again.

“Silly. Did you read the whole thing?”

“Well, no. I just stopped after I saw I wasn’t cast.”

Stacy put her hands gently on his shoulders and turned him toward the bulletin board. He scanned the lines of type below the cast, and there it was, his name.

Student Director…Truman Reid

The notice went on to say that rehearsals would start in the auditorium directly after school the following Monday. There was also a sign-up sheet posted to the right of the cast list for stage crew. The message at the bottom of the cast list went on to add that if anyone had questions or second thoughts they should talk to Mr. Wolcott immediately.

Truman sniffed. Sure. Student Director. Probably because I’m not manly enough for any of the male roles. Mr. Wolcott took pity in me. He doesn’t need a student director, for God’s sakes. He said none of this aloud. What he did say was, “I have questions. I have second thoughts.”

“What do you mean?” Stacy asked. “You’re the director!”

“Student director,” Truman corrected. “A meaningless title, a consolation prize. I wanted to act, not direct, not that I think I’ll get the chance to do much directing anyway.” He stared down at the floor and then looked back up at Stacy, whose big brown eyes were alive with concern.

“I don’t know why you’d say that,” Stacy said. “Mr. Wolcott sees something in you, something great. He wants you to help him run the show.” She punched Truman’s shoulder hard enough to make him gasp. “You big silly! You should be proud.”

Truman considered for a moment, thought of repeating he’d wanted to act, then closed his trap. Weren’t actors always claiming what they really wanted to do was…direct? Maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss this. Maybe it wasn’t a slight after all, but a compliment, even. Still, it was hard to quell the disappointment, like a dark shadow lurking, deep within him. He’d been so sure he’d get a part.

Let it go. You did get a part. You just won’t be on stage. But you’ll also have the reins. Or at least the co-reins. You can really make this play into something! Truman tried to console himself. And he had to grudgingly admit it was beginning to work—already. He gave a little half grin to Stacy. “I guess it could be fun, provided I’m given some leeway.”

“You’re gonna do great, Truman. I’m really looking forward to having your guidance. God knows I’m gonna need it! I’ve never acted before.”

Truman didn’t tell her that neither had he. Why undermine her confidence in him? After all, he was the student director. And he already had some ideas about how she could play the role, ways she might go a little opposite of what was on the page to make the part unusual, funny maybe. He squeezed her shoulder and quipped, “Stick with me, kid. I’m gonna make you a star!”

Stacy giggled. “Are you walking home today?” She glanced out through the plate glass front doors. “I think we just missed the bus.”

“I guess I’m walking home, then. Care to join me?”

Stacy slipped her hand under Truman’s arm, and the two of them departed for East End.

Truman couldn’t wait for Monday to come. He’d spend the whole weekend reading the play over and making notes. If he was going to be student director, he was going to be the best student director Summitville High had ever seen.