I slump in front of the TV, alone with a bowl of reheated pasta. Dad’s stuck in a work dinner with his boss. American Idol plays a mash-up of the season’s worst auditions—the deluded, tone-deaf people who get eliminated three bars into their songs. I turn it off. This is a lousy way to shake off my post-audition unhappiness.
I go to the kitchen and dump out what’s left of my pasta. My cell buzzes from the coffee table. It’ll be Drew, telling me I’m not getting a callback. Don’t pick it up, I tell myself. Pretend the audition didn’t happen. The phone keeps vibrating, like a trapped wasp. I stare at it until it goes still.
Good. That’s the end of that stupid idea. I’m not ready for the Youth Works Theater Company. I grab an apple from the fridge.
Just as I take a bite, my phone starts up again. I chew, swallow. There’s no avoiding the truth, I guess. I pick up the phone without looking at it.
“Hello?” I try to sound calm and mature.
“Ellie?”
“Cassidy?”
“You’re there! Thank goodness, because if I couldn’t tell you right this minute I’d explode.” Her voice is high-pitched with excitement. “I got Maria! Can you believe it? I mean, I sort of knew I would, but I sort of worried I wouldn’t. And omigod, Jared’s playing Tony. He said he’s even going to dye his hair black for the part. Won’t he look even hotter than he already does? I am so, so happy he and I are going to be the leads.”
I sink onto the couch. “Wow. That’s awesome, Cass.” The chunk of apple sits like a rock in my stomach. “Congrats.”
“Thanks.” Silence. Maybe she’s finally taking a breath. “I wish you were still here.” She’s quieter. “Guess where I’m calling from.”
Against my will, I smile. “Top bleacher by first base.” The baseball diamond is where Cassidy and I have always gone to share our most important secrets or news, even in the middle of winter.
“I knew you’d know. And that weirdo from the apartment on the corner still lets his basset hound poop in center field. It’s circling as I speak.”
I laugh, but if I hear too much about my old neighborhood right now, I’ll probably cry. “So when do you start rehearsals?” Not that I really want to hear about that either.
“Day after tomorrow. I’m so excited. Except Tessa Gorsham’s playing Anita. Talk about miscasting. She’s about as fiery as a dictionary.” Cassidy’s back in high-pitched babble mode. My cue to cut things short.
“Cass, my dad’s just walked in, I should go.” I go over and open our balcony door to make a fake, Dad-coming-in sound.
“Hi, Mr. Fisk!” Cassidy calls. “Okay, talk soon.”
“Yep.”
“I miss you. Bye.” If her voice gets any higher, it’ll crack my phone.
I press End.
She didn’t ask me a single thing about what’s going on in my life. Just as well.
I realize I’m staring off into space only when a movement catches my eye. On a balcony across the way, a guy waves an oven mitt over a smoky barbecue. He looks up, smiles and waves the mitt at me. “I’m such an amateur,” he shouts cheerfully. I slide the door shut. I’ve pulled the blind down halfway when my phone buzzes again. For a brief, weird second I think the balcony guy has somehow figured out my phone number. Then I remember who it probably is.
I clear my throat. “Hello?”
“Is this Ellie Fisk?” Drew asks. His voice sounds younger on the phone.
“Speaking.” I wonder how many calls he’s made today. How many people he’s disappointed.
“You did a great job at the audition. We’d like to see you at the callback. Tomorrow at three o’clock, at the church. I hope you’re available.”
Air rushes into my lungs. I dance on the spot and let out a silent scream. Then I calm myself down enough to say, “Totally. I am totally available. One hundred percent available.” Maybe not so calm.
Drew laughs. “Good to know. Bring jazz shoes, if you’ve got them, and wear stuff you can move easily in. Camilla will teach everyone a routine. The dance audition is a group thing.”
“Great.” Thank goodness I don’t have to be in a room alone with her.
“See you tomorrow,” Drew says. “One hundred percent, right?”
“Exactly.”
I let happiness settle over me. I did not tank my first real audition ever. I did a great job. I grab my apple and my laptop. Time to find a place to buy some lucky jazz shoes, pronto.
* * *
“Kick ball change, kick ball change, chaîné, and chaîné, and—no, no, you’ve got to keep the spacing even between dancers. Allie”—Camilla points at me—“pick up your turns. You were too far behind Marissa.”
It would be nice if Camilla actually got my name right. But I guess it would also be nice if I had known that a chaîné was a type of turn before she started yelling the word at me. Marissa casually practices the combo I just messed up.
Drew, at the piano, says, “Where should we take it from?”
“From the grapevine, everyone.” Camilla snaps her fingers to make us hurry.
The five other kids and I scurry back to our original spots. We’re the first group to do the dance. Twenty-three additional would-be cast members sprawl on the audition-room floor in front of us. They’re stretching and warming up, but they’re also watching our every move. Learning from any mistakes.
Camilla smacks her rock-hard thigh as she counts, “And one and two and…”
Drew starts up on the piano again.
I say the steps in my head, making sure not to move my lips at the same time.
“Keep smiling,” Camilla shouts. “It’s not a death march. Yet.”
I smile. On the second chaîné, I glance over to make sure I’m close enough to Marissa.
“Heads up.” Camilla slaps the bottom of her chin to demonstrate. “Better. Final turn, and land it.”
Drew hits the last chord. Yes! That time felt solid. I’m hoping the next group of six will get called up so I can be done. My new jazz shoes are killing me.
“Once more, just to see if you can get it right twice in a row,” Camilla says.
Moving back into position, I catch Gregor, out on the floor, sighing loudly. He says something to the tall black girl beside him. She laughs and hits him playfully on the arm, the way good friends can. Am I the only person here who doesn’t know anyone?
“And one and two and,” Camilla calls again.
I’m grapevining, I’m kick ball changing, kick ball changing, I’m smiling, I’m chaîné-ing, heads up, I’m—
I bash into Marissa. “Omigod, I’m sorry.”
She hasn’t fallen but only because she’s grabbed on to the dancer beside her for balance.
“Are you okay, Ilona?” Marissa asks the girl.
Ilona looks miffed but says, “No biggie.”
“Sorry,” I repeat. Heat spreads up my neck and face, a tide of embarrassment. “I didn’t want to be too far from you, but I guess that was too close.”
“You think?” Marissa flicks her bangs out of her eyes, then asks Camilla, “From the top again?”
Camilla snaps the waistband of her leggings like a metronome. Maybe that helps her think. “No. This group can leave.” She turns to the waiting actors. “Next six up.”
Marissa strides away, snatches the water bottle from her dance bag and takes a long drink. She doesn’t leave but stands beside an athletic-looking guy near the back of the room and starts whispering furiously. He nods his big blond head in agreement as he stretches his quadriceps.
I change out of my jazz shoes, stuff them in my backpack and hurry toward the exit.
“Hey, Ellie.” Gregor leans over as I pass by. “If you can hang around until we’re done, Shantel and I are going for coffee and gossip,” he says, gesturing to the girl beside him. “You could come with us.”
Shantel leans across his legs. “He gossips. I intelligently analyze our fellow actors.”
“In other words, you gossip,” Gregor says, putting his face beside hers.
“Oh, snap!” Shantel pushes his head away with one finger.
For a second, I want to go and listen to their rapid-fire joking so I can forget about my callback. Then I picture having to watch everyone else be way better dancers than me.
“Thanks,” I say. “But my dad’s meeting me, so I have to go.”
Camilla calls, “Silence, minions!” without turning around.
Shantel and Gregor clamp their hands over their mouths in exaggerated fear. Then he whispers, “Okay, see you at the first rehearsal, Snow.”
I doubt it.
Outside, the late-afternoon light is low. There’s a chill in the air. Cars drive by, people walk by, the whole busy city goes by. Everybody knows exactly what they’re doing and how to get where they’re going.
I lied when I said I was meeting Dad, but I decide to change that. I take out my phone.
Dad sounds tired. “Hey, El, just finished at the gym. How was the callback?”
“Have you found a good Chinese food place in this city yet? I need emergency chicken fried rice.”
“Hang tight,” Dad says. “I’ll be there in five.”