I wake up before my alarm has a chance to go off. Tonight’s opening night.
After a restless night replaying yesterday in my head, I know there’s one thing I need to do before I can get on with today. I reach beside my bed, haul my laptop off the floor and plop it onto my duvet. I pull up the TCTM site. There’s Dad, smiling like Mr. Good Morning in front of the city skyline. The thumbnails of videos from past shows line up below him. I click on the one titled “YWTC gets Schooled.”
There’s an intro bit between Dad and Renée. Dad tells a lame theater joke. Renée laughs. He beams at her. She touches his arm. They’re even cuter with each other than they were during her first appearance back in September.
I’m going to have to think about what all that might mean some other time.
I scroll the bar at the bottom of the video until I see Marissa come into view. I let it play.
She’s alone in a column of light. The Moberly Prep uniform makes her look younger. When Marissa or I perform “Welcome to Your Dorm” onstage, we are with castmates and in almost constant motion. And when we’re in the ensemble, we never actually have a chance to watch closely how the other one performs. Now, alone on the bland TCTM set, Marissa simply stands there and sings.
Even though she’s still, I can hear the whole action of the song in her voice. Yes, she hits the notes strong, gets the timing dead-on, sings each word clearly. That’s impressive enough. But she makes Piper come to life.
I remember the first vocal rehearsal we had with Drew. I thought Marissa was making excuses for her singing when she said Piper felt insecure and that’s why she was mean to Hannah. Now she shows me the truth of that. Marissa understands Piper’s insecurity. And she makes the audience understand that too. The fear behind the swagger.
When the song’s over, Dad, Renée and the off-camera tech people clap as the camera holds on Marissa’s face. She looks straight into it. I feel like she’s looking at me, asking, “Do you get it now?”
I do.
I close the laptop. I’m glad Marissa’s going on as Piper tonight. She deserves it.
* * *
I’m just about to go into the theater when my cell phone buzzes.
“Hey, Dad.” I pause at the backstage door. “How’s the day?”
“All good. How was school?”
“Made way better by the fact that I knew I had a show to open tonight.”
He laughs. “I just called to say ‘break a leg.’ I’m looking forward to tonight.”
Claire and Ilona come around the corner and head toward the theater.
“It’s Marissa’s night to be Piper,” I remind Dad.
“I’m coming to every performance,” he reminds me.
I hadn’t even thought about how nice it will be to know Dad’s out there in the audience again. Like back in Rossmere. “Aww, you’ve always been my biggest fan,” I joke.
“And I always will be,” he answers. No joke.
“Back at you.”
Claire mouths Hi and Ilona ignores me as I step out of the way so they can get inside.
“By the way,” Dad says. “Renée tells me there was a spike in ticket sales at the box office after, uh, she was on the show yesterday.”
It’s cute how he avoids mentioning Marissa. “Awesome. Also by the way, I had a chance to watch the spot online this morning.”
“Oh yeah?” He sounds like he’s bracing himself for my opinion.
“Marissa was great. You’re going to like watching her tonight.”
“She was, kiddo. It’s nice you can see that. Of course, I only watch you if you’re onstage.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.” But I love him for saying that. I pull open the backstage door. “I better go. See you later, fanboy.”
* * *
The cast has nearly finished the onstage vocal warm-up when Marissa walks through the audience entrance.
“Nice of her highness to grace us with her presence,” whispers Rachel.
I watch Marissa sidle past the last-row seats to get to Neeta, sitting right beneath the control booth.
“One last roll down from standing, everyone.” Drew stands facing us, not noticing. He’s decked out in his version of opening-night formal wear: non-faded jeans, new high-top sneakers, a blazer and a yellow-and-green-plaid tie. “Hang from your hips like a rag doll. Let your spine, your shoulders, your neck, everything relax. Release any tension.”
My tension decides to stay put. Something about being bent over like this reminds me of Marissa bent over outside the bathroom yesterday, steadying herself with one arm. Why isn’t she hurrying to join us onstage?
“And slowly roll back up,” Drew continues.
I do. Marissa is now sitting down. Neeta is standing beside her, hands on hips, staring holes into Drew’s back. But she lets him finish.
“We’re forty-five minutes away from lights-up. Fifteen minutes from the house opening.” We can already hear our soon-to-be audience chatting and laughing as they wait to be let in. “You guys have worked so hard all these weeks. Now all you need to do is—” he puts his hand up to his ear.
“Listen!” we all shout.
He grins through his beard. “Music to my ears. Have an amazing show, everyone.”
I hang back as my fellow performers stream offstage to the dressing rooms. Drew turns, sees Marissa, hops off the stage.
“Bring Ellie,” Neeta tells him.
Marissa’s eyes meet mine. There’s the same sadness I saw yesterday. But none of the contempt.
* * *
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Marissa,” I say. “It’s probably just nerves. I know my heart’s fluttering like a—”
“It’s not nerves.” She shakes her head like a stubborn kid. “I missed tech because of some stupid test. I missed half a dress rehearsal and could barely pay attention for the half I was there. I’m not ready. I’ll let everyone down.”
“We know you’d never do that,” Neeta says.
Marissa looks up at Neeta. “My stomach still feels kind of odd.”
Neeta and Drew exchange uh-oh looks.
Then they and Marissa turn to me.
The house manager cracks open the door and calls, “Can I please let the audience in? It’s getting crowded out here.” Voices carry from behind her like a cheerful mob.
“But it’s opening night, Marissa,” I say. That has to trump everything, doesn’t it?
Two days ago, I never would have believed I’d be arguing with Marissa that she, not me, should perform Piper. But after what she said to me yesterday, and after watching her sing this morning, and realizing how it must have felt to put in three years with YWTC before getting a good role…“I’m happy to just be in the ensemble for tonight,” I say.
Marissa’s eyes narrow. “You should never say just be in the ensemble.”
My breath catches. “You’re right. I’m honored to be in the ensemble.”
Then she smiles at me as if, for the first time, we’re equals.
“Well, this is all very heartwarming, but you girls do know this is a decision for the director to make, do you not?” Neeta bursts out, her hand flapping at Drew as if he’s missed an important cue. “At least get out of here so I can open the house? Then feel free to let me know who’s doing what tonight.” She puts on her headset and stomps away. “Twenty-five minutes to curtain, by the way.” She flings the words over her shoulder.
Marissa laughs as she, Drew and I hustle out of our seats. “Neeta’s my hero,” she says.
“We need to give your hero an answer,” Drew says.
Marissa looks at me, and I know what she wants me to say.
So I do. “You should be Piper tonight.”
Another thing I’ve learned doing this play. An actor can only make a line sound true if she really feels it.