I’m singing “Tomorrow” for three strangers. My voice vibrates in my chest, in my head. I stick out my chin when the song tells me to. I grin. It’s hard to grin and sing. Behind the table, Drew Carrier leans forward on his elbows. The leggy choreographer—she was introduced, but I’ve already forgotten her name—squints. Am I hurting her ears? Renée Felix reclines away from the other two, looking artistic director-ish.
On my next quick breath, I glance to my right, to Gregor at the piano. He’s cheery and attentive for cues. Sandy the dog to my Annie.
I forgot how quickly “Tomorrow” goes by. But at least I’ve remembered the words.
I take a huge breath to propel into the song’s wide-open, optimistic finish. I hit the last big note bang-on and hold it—“aaa-waaaayy”—then wrap it up with what I hope is my best downtrodden-but-still-hopeful expression: You have to adopt me. I’m adorable! Gregor’s hands spring off the keyboard in a final flourish. I can practically hear the applause.
Except there is none.
Drew pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Charming.”
“Isn’t she?” Gregor pipes up. “I found her outside. Can we keep her?”
Renée laughs. The choreographer smiles—barely. Camilla Perez. Her name pops back into my head now that there’s space for it.
Drew chuckles. “Gregor, I know this will be hard for you, but it’s time to shut up and leave so that…” He shuffles through the papers in front of him.
“Ellie,” I prompt.
“So that Ellie can do her monologue.” Drew raises a thick eyebrow at me. “Gregor can be a merciless upstager.”
“Hey!” Gregor pretends to look offended. “Only amateurs upstage. I simply have charisma. But I can mute it.” He makes a zip-it gesture on his mouth.
It was less scary doing my song with him in the room. Maybe he’ll be good for my monologue too. “He can stay. I don’t mind.”
Gregor mimes clapping.
Renée shakes her head at me. “No, dear, that’s not professional.” She’s pleasant but firm. “He’s a fellow auditioner. It was unusual enough to let him accompany you.” She slides her eyes toward Drew.
“It gave me a break from having to accompany everyone,” he says, shrugging. “But, of course, you’re right.”
Gregor throws up his hands and pushes away from the piano. “I surrender. I’m going.”
“Thanks for your playing,” I say as he passes behind me. “It was great.”
“Anytime, Snow White. And I know.”
I watch the door close behind him, then turn back to the table of judges.
“Let’s hear what you’ve got.” Drew clasps his hands behind his head, settling in to listen.
“I’ll be doing Mimi from Oranges and Lemons.” In drama last year, Mrs. Mowat said I was so good at this it gave her shivers.
“An old classic.” Drew nods.
Hoping classic is good, I look at the floor for a second and take a settling breath. I lift my head, look right at Drew and begin. “It’s not like we knew the truth, Oscar and me. Mama kept the news from us until it was too late. So we shouldn’t be blamed for…for what happened last night.”
Drew suddenly leans forward. “Okay. Let’s stop there, Ellie.”
I feel my mouth snap shut. Stop? Is my audition over? What could I have done wrong in thirty seconds? I glance at Renée. Her face gives nothing away.
“What do you think Mimi wants?” Drew asks. His tone is friendly, but my heart is skittering against my ribs.
“Wants?”
“What does she want to achieve by saying those lines?”
My hands feel sweaty. I don’t want to rub them on my jeans and look dorky and nervous. I settle for putting them on my hips. “Mimi wants to achieve…uh, I think she’s saying, to Papa—”
“Good. You know who she’s talking to. Monologues aren’t addressed to the air. Or to the people you’re auditioning in front of. Are they?”
Oh crap, I shouldn’t have stared at Drew. “No.”
“They’re addressed to someone specific.”
“Right.” Someone specifically not the director.
“So. Mimi.” Drew rolls up the sleeves of his plaid shirt. “What are you hoping Papa thinks when you tell him what you and Oscar did?”
I’m hoping Drew thinks I have enough of a brain to cast me in a lead role. But I try to put myself in Mimi’s place. “That it wasn’t our fault. I mean, it was our fault, but Mimi—I want Papa to think it wasn’t. So that Oscar and I won’t get sent away. I don’t want to be sent away.”
“Yes!” Drew hits the tabletop. “High stakes. Do it again with that in mind.”
Camilla stretches her neck from side to side. I remember that I’m the last person to audition today. They all must want to be done.
I straighten my shoulders and start the monologue again, without staring at Drew. I focus on a spot slightly above him and conjure in my head an image of Papa, suspicious and distrustful. Drew doesn’t interrupt this time. I even feel myself tear up toward the end and have to swallow hard before my final line: “Papa, please tell me you understand.”
Silence.
I take a step back, as if leaving Mimi, then look at Drew. I’m pulsing. Just like Gregor declared when he came out of his audition, I nailed it.
Camilla gives Drew a Well? look.
“Nice,” he says.
That’s it? Nice doesn’t land the big role. When Drew doesn’t go on, I have to fill the silence. “Thank you. That was a really interesting audition. I mean, you made it interesting. For me.” I wish Gregor could come back to play some exit music.
Camilla picks my résumé off the table and scans it. “I see you have no dance background, Ellie.” Her voice is sweet yet somehow hard. Crunchy candy.
I want to shout, Did you not just hear me sing? Did you not just see me act? But I keep positive. “I was Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and Sandy in Grease, and in Wicked I played Galinda, so I danced in all of those. All the solos and most of the other numbers.”
“Those aren’t dance-heavy shows.” Camilla folds herself into a cross-legged position on her chair. “Have you taken any classes outside of school? Some basic ballet, maybe?”
I decide to try some humor. “The only dance school in my old town was in the mall attached to the main grocery store. Not very glamorous. And the woman who ran it was this scary ex-Soviet ballerina, so I was afraid to go.”
Camilla grimaces and tilts her head. “So, no?”
Bye-bye humor. “No.”
“Okay,” she says, like it’s not okay.
Drew clears his throat. “Nicely done, Ellie.” He gathers up his notes and taps them into a pile, newscaster style.
Renée stands and smooths her plum-colored skirt down her hips. “Thanks for trying out, Ellie. It’s going to be an exciting show. Now Drew and Camilla need to put their heads together to see who gets callbacks.”
“That’s when the dance audition happens,” Camilla says. In case I’m too dumb to figure out that she only gives the people who might be cast a chance to prove they can dance. Or not.
Drew says, “We’ll be in touch later tonight to let everyone know one way or the other.”
I’ve tanked the audition.
“Thanks so much,” I manage to say, then bolt from the room.
Gregor’s gone. Neeta looks up from her laptop, snaps it shut and makes a beeline for the audition room. “Thanks for auditioning. They’ll let you know,” she says, brushing past.
One way or the other.
I’ll be other.