At the King’s Bowl restaurant, our middle-aged waiter’s face transforms from bland to excited as he finishes taking our order. “This City This Morning!” he announces, like that’s Dad’s name. “I watch you when I’m getting dressed.”
“That’s awkward,” I say under my breath.
Dad shoots me a look. “Fantastic,” he says to the waiter, deploying his best TV smile. “I hope I get your day off to a good start.”
“Oh yes. But my wife says the old host was better. Leanne.” The waiter furrows his brow as he takes our menus from us. “My wife listens to the radio now.”
“Whatever makes her happy, right?” Dad says, smile hanging in there.
The waiter shrugs and leaves us to wait for our food.
“He should divorce his wife,” I say.
Dad laughs. “My whole week has been phone calls and emails saying, I’m so sad Leanne’s gone. Or Leanne would never mispronounce Roncesvalles Avenue.”
“That sucks.” Dad talked about work the whole time we were in the car, so I don’t say anything else in case he keeps going. I shift the soy-sauce bottle around on the table.
“So.” Dad takes the bottle out of my hand and sets it aside. “The callback?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.” I look past Dad to the big aquarium behind him. A pinky-beige monster fish stares at me with bulgy eyes. Maybe it’s better to look back at Dad.
Less bulgy-eyed, but his expression is an old favorite: Don’t even try to pretend with me. “I didn’t drive to your audition to answer an emergency chicken-fried-rice call for nothing.”
“Okay.” I take a big breath and let it all out. “I’m not ready for this theater company. It’s too serious. The choreographer is a drill sergeant. The director stopped me two seconds into my audition. There’s a girl in the cast—”
“Nobody’s in the cast yet. Everybody’s still trying out.”
I roll my eyes at him. “She’ll be cast, I can tell. And she has an instant hate-on for me. No reason.”
“Thank you,” Dad says as the waiter plunks down our drinks, then continues once he’s gone. “Negative people always stand out. Like all the critics who called me this week. For every one of those, there are probably ten others who think I’m fine but don’t bother to call. There have to be some good things about the company, Ellie.”
I think about Gregor accompanying me, about Drew telling me I had a good audition. That’s great, but…I shrug. “I forgot to tell you. Cassidy got the lead in West Side Story at Rossmere.”
“Aha.” Dad leans back in his chair and considers me. “Good for Cassidy. And you’re getting the chance to be in a cool new musical in Toronto because your dad finally got his dream job here.”
Mr. Positive is not helping. “Interviewing school principals about fall fairs while strangers watch in their undies is your dream job?”
Dad’s smile freezes on the spot.
I’m being a jerk. Before I can apologize, the waiter appears beside the table, our plates of food balanced up his arm. He sets them down in the middle of our silence.
“Thank goodness the food’s so fast here,” Dad says cheerily. “My daughter’s in desperate need of this. Gets grumpy with her dad when she’s hungry.”
I sip my iced tea to avoid saying anything.
“She’s hangry. Hungry and angry!” the waiter declares, thumping Dad’s shoulder old-buddy style. “Remember that nutritionist on your show last Friday?” He wags a finger at me. “Don’t be hangry to your dad!” He walks away chuckling.
Dad snaps open his napkin and puts it on his lap. “And that is why it’s my dream job.”
“I guess I deserved that,” I say, though being hangry feels like the least of my problems.
“Listen.” Dad dishes out the chicken fried rice, the sweet-and-sour pork, the wontons. “It’s been hard watching you sulk around the condo since we moved here. Youth Works Theater Company sounded like it could be a fun thing. If you don’t want to do that, fine. But you do have to find something to do.”
I pour the radioactive-red sweet-and-sour sauce over my wontons. “It’s not up to me at this point. At least, not about the play. If I don’t get in, I don’t get in.”
“It’s up to you to decide to really live here now.” He gives me another old-favorite look: You know I’m right.
I don’t say anything. Because he’s the one who decided to move here, and Drew and Camilla are the ones who’ll decide if I get into Schooled. How can I decide anything if the choices aren’t mine?
“Come on, dig in while it’s hot,” Dad says.
We eat in silence. Except Dad hums while he chews. A goofy habit, it’s always meant he’s happy. I guess it’s good that one of us is.
Behind Dad, the monster fish circles the tank, forcing smaller ones to get out of its way. I privately name it Marissa. Satisfied, I crunch into a wonton.
“Food’s good here, hey? Chicken fried rice meets your high standards?” Dad asks. I can tell he’s ready to move on, is looking forward to restarting his work week tomorrow.
I nod, but I’m not ready to let him think everything’s better. For me, tomorrow means another empty week of school.
Soon the waiter returns. “No more hangry?” he asks me.
I lick the last bit of sweet-and-sour sauce from my fingers. “Nope.”
“Good.” He puts the bill and a couple of fortune cookies down in front of us. “See you tomorrow, This City This Morning,” he says to Dad as he whisks our plates away.
“You’re right,” Dad whispers. “That is a bit awkward.”
I laugh. My cell phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out and check the call display. My stomach fizzes. “Already?”
“Already who?” Dad’s cracking into his fortune cookie.
I turn away from him. “Hello?”
“Ellie. Drew Carrier here.”
“I know.” That sounds rude. I try again. “Hi there.” The bustling restaurant noises mute into a quiet fog of focus.
I hear Drew take a sip of something. I picture him at the audition table again, surrounded by notes. “Thanks for doing the callback today.”
And knocking another dancer over with your clumsy moves, thus making it easy for me to tell you that we won’t be casting you!
“It was fun,” I lie.
“I’m glad you thought so. I know Camilla can be intimidating, but you’ll find she’s an amazing choreographer to work with.”
“I…I will?” I look at Dad. He’s mouthing, What? What? I hold up a finger to make him wait. “You mean…does that mean—”
“I’d like you to be in Schooled, Ellie.” I hear the smile in Drew’s voice. “So do Camilla and Renée. We think you’d do a great job as Piper.”
They want me. An angel chorus sings in my head. Except I have no idea who Piper is. But she has a name. That’s a good sign. Ensemble characters don’t have names. I have to say something. “Wow. Are you sure?” I grimace. Wrong thing to say. “I mean, you decided so fast.”
“I work fast. I’d pretty much decided you were a good fit after your first audition. The callback was just to confirm. I like to put a cast together quickly.”
“That’s great.” I stare at Dad, and he stares back, dopey smile probably mirroring mine.
“Now, the role is double cast. You’d be playing Piper on alternate nights with another actor.”
“Oh.” I feel suspended in midair for a second. “That’s okay.” I’m still so excited my brain’s hardly connecting to my mouth.
“So you’ll join us?” Drew asks. “It’s a big undertaking—rehearsals are every Friday evening and all day Sunday. They’re intense, but YWTC is a terrific company to be part of.”
I grip the table so I don’t float away. “I’d love to be part of it. Yes.”
“Wonderful. I’ll email you all the details tonight. Rehearsal schedule, performance schedule. There’s a commitment form you’ll need to print off and sign and bring to the first rehearsal next Friday.”
“Okay. Will do.” The week ahead clicks into place. The months ahead. Finally, I can look forward to something.
Dad’s unwrapping the second fortune cookie.
“Welcome aboard,” Drew says before he hangs up.
I put the phone down and dance my arms in the air. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”
“Here’s to you, Ellie.” Dad hands me the cookie. “Open it up. Read it.”
I crack it apart. The slip of paper sticks out of one half like a little white tongue. I pause, look at Dad. “I got a role, but it’s double cast. I’m sharing it with someone.”
He waves that aside. “You’re cast. That’s all that counts right now.”
Excitement bubbles back up in me again. “Right.” I pull out the fortune. If you don’t do it excellently, don’t do it at all.
I laugh and slide it across the table to him. “Even the fortune cookies are intense in this city.”
But I don’t care. I can do excellently. Landing a role in Schooled proves it. Even a shared role.
Dad puts his arm around my shoulders as we head toward the door. “Hey,” I say. “What was your fortune?”
He pulls it out of his back pocket and reads, “You learn from mistakes. You learned a lot this week. Bring on a new week, I say.”
I happily agree.