All the Way (7 page)

We walked into the auditorium, which was buzzing with about forty or fifty people all hanging around, waiting for the auditions to start.

Tyler happened to be standing by the back door as we walked in.

“Hey,” he said, looking me up and down approvingly. “Nice costume.”

“Thanks.” I beamed.

He spoke to me! Tyler North actually spoke to me. He hadn't done that all year.

“So you're trying out for Miss Adelaide?” he asked, nodding at my dress.

“Yeah.” I smiled up at him, sort of flirting.

“Well, good luck,” he said. “You probably won't get up there for a while—he's doing the guys first. But if you want, I'll run lines with you.”

“Great!” I said, feeling like I might throw up again.

I'm usually not nervous or timid about stuff. My dad always says I've got nerves of steel. Ever since I was little, I've been pretty gutsy. Like, in sixth grade, I went to a City Council meeting and told the mayor they should build a community center so kids would have a cool place to hang out.

But this was different. Way more scary. I could feel my stomach jumping around inside.

“You'd better go sign up,” Tyler said, nodding toward Mr. Richards, who was standing on the floor at the front of the stage.

Ariel had already gone ahead, so I hurried to catch up with her. On the way, I checked out the competition. Natalie Anschell was strutting around, singing some song I hadn't learned, and small groups of other girls were huddled together, vocalizing or going over scripts. Most of the guys were lounging in the back row seats, acting like they weren't really too interested in the whole process, but I knew that was just a pose. Otherwise, why were they there? Anyway, the place was full of a crazy kind of energy, which made me even more nervous.

Mr. Richards had a clipboard in his hands and was taking down names and giving out scripts and audition numbers.

“Hi,” he said. “You're Carmen, right?”

I nodded.

“Love the dress,” he said. “It's perfect. You're going for Miss Adelaide, I assume?”

“Yes.” I smiled winningly.

“So where'd you get the outfit, and how'd you come up with the genius idea to dress the part?” He looked really impressed with me.

This is excellent!
I thought. He likes me already!

“I'm a thrift store hound,” I confessed. Then I gestured toward the sequined gardenia. “But I added my own touches.”

“She's going into fashion design in college,” Ariel chimed in from the sidelines.

“Excellent!” Mr. Richards said, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. “Okay, here's a script. Pages 28 and 29 are marked for Miss Adelaide, as are pages 40 and 41. And . . .” He glanced at his clipboard. “You're number seven of the girl singers.”

Seven? Yikes.

I guess this is why I never tried out for the school play before now. It's terrifying.

“Let's run lines,” Ariel said, heading toward a spot off to the side where we could study the script.

We sat down, and I started reading. There were a lot more characters than I'd realized, since I hadn't seen the movie.

I was about ten pages into it when I realized something. The part of Miss Adelaide was . . . well . . . weird. I mean, she kept sneezing all the time. What was up with that?

“You want me to read with you?” a voice right behind my ear said.

I swiveled in my seat and saw Tyler perched on the arm of the seat behind me.

“Um, that would be great,” I said, shooting an apologetic look at Ariel.

“No problem,” Ariel said, getting up. “I'm going to go talk to Becca Christianson. I still can't decide what part to try out for.”

“Break a leg,” I called as she threaded her way through the seats.

Tyler climbed over the seat and sat down right next to me. I could feel the heat from his body. He opened his script and started flipping through it. “What page?” he asked.

But before I could answer, Mr. Richards clapped his hands and quieted everyone down. “Okay, I need the boy singers onstage for the vocal auditions,” he said, motioning with his arms.

Tanya Martinson was up there already, seated at an upright piano, ready to play along while each person sang. She was a junior who was such a math whiz, she was in Ariel's calculus class.

“Sorry—gotta go. Good luck!” Tyler said, leaving.

“Okay, guys, everyone who's trying out for Sky Masterson, I want you up onstage now,” Mr. Richards called out.

I started to look away, back to studying my script, but out of the corner of my eye I saw six guys—including Tyler—climbing the steps to the stage.

Hold on.
Tyler?
He wasn't going out for Nathan Detroit?

I blinked, confused. What's up with that? I wondered. Why didn't he want the romantic lead?

As fast as I could, I started reading through the script, trying to find out who this Sky Masterson character was and why Tyler wanted it.

Suddenly I saw Ariel hurrying toward me, a worried expression on her face. “Oh my God,” she said, plopping down in the seat next to mine. “We should have rented the movie. Guess what?”

“What?” I said, although I was already beginning to guess.

“Miss Adelaide isn't the leading role,” Ariel told me. “I was just talking to Becca Christianson. She's going out for Miss Adelaide, because she said she knows she doesn't stand a chance of getting the lead against Natalie and the two other really good singers who are up for it. Sergeant Sarah Brown is the lead.”

“Yeah.” I had begun to figure that out. “I learned the wrong songs!”

“Me, too,” Ariel said. “I learned Sarah Brown's songs!”

Oh, wow.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered desperately. “Now that I've read the script, it looks like the part of Miss Adelaide is a joke. She sneezes all the time and sings like she has a cold. Plus she's been engaged to Nathan Detroit for, like, fourteen years, and he won't marry her.”

“I know, I know,” Ariel said. “Becca told me. But look at it this way. The competition for the lead is pretty stiff, so maybe it's better this way. At least maybe you'll get a part, even if it is a goofy one. And you'll get to hang around Tyler during rehearsals and everything, even if you don't get to kiss him.”

She had a point. A depressing point, but a point.

I skimmed through the rest of the script, hoping that maybe Miss Adelaide got to kiss Sky Masterson at some point—maybe behind Nathan Detroit's back?—but no such luck. The story was basically about a bet between Nathan Detroit and Sky Masterson. Nathan bets Sky that he can't make the next girl he sees fall in love with him, and Sky agrees. The next girl Sky sees is the superuptight, straitlaced Sergeant Sarah Brown, this totally prudish leader of the Salvation Army Mission Band. Sky has to lure her to an overnight trip to Havana, Cuba, or something, and they wind up falling in love.

Meanwhile, guess what Miss Adelaide does? Nothing. She just sneezes and acts like a loser, begging Nathan to marry her.

Great.

Onstage, Mr. Richards was asking each guy to sing “Luck Be a Lady.” A few of the guys were pretty good, but none of them had the voice or charisma Tyler had. As soon as he started to sing, the whole auditorium got quiet. You could feel the chill, like you knew you were in the presence of a star.

After that, the guys trying out for Nathan Detroit had to sing. Two of them were really funny. I guess it was a comic role, too.

When the guys were done, Mr. Richards called the girls up one by one, by our numbers. Emily Pendleton went first—this really shy girl who sat in the back of my economics class first semester and never said a word. She was the kind of girl who was pretty if you looked closely, but she didn't know how to dress, and her hair was sort of dry and shaggy. She stepped to the center of the stage in her baggy gray sweatshirt and screamingly outdated jeans—they totally had the wrong wash—looking like she was afraid she'd fall off the edge or something. She was so totally awkward and uncomfortable, I couldn't believe she was even auditioning.

But then Tanya started playing “If I Were a Bell,” and Emily started singing in the most amazingly perfect soprano voice I'd ever heard. Everyone in the auditorium went quiet. We were all dumbstruck. Her voice was just unbelievable—clear, joyous, and pitch perfect.

When the song was over, though, she turned and practically ran off the stage.

“Uh, thank you,” Mr. Richards called to her retreating back. “That was . . . uh . . . lovely.”

Natalie was next, and she was, as advertised, perfection. Her voice was not quite as good as Emily's, but she really knew how to sell the song. She paraded up and down the stage like she owned it, and when I sneaked a look at Tyler, he was staring at her like he was already falling in love.

I started getting so nervous, I had to run to the restroom to gulp down some water so I wouldn't puke. So I missed the next few people, but from the applause I could hear, I knew they must have been pretty good, too.

By the time I got back, Ariel had already sung. Mr. Richards had passed my number, and someone else was up there singing away.

“Where were you?” Ariel whispered, like she couldn't believe I'd done such a stupid thing as leave.

“I had to go to the restroom,” I hissed at her. “God!”

What was this—some kind of major losing streak? Were my astrological stars out of alignment? Was my Karma in need of a tune-up?

I mean, seriously. How much bad luck can a girl have in one week?

“Well, don't worry, he'll probably give you a chance later,” Ariel whispered, like she wasn't sure I deserved it.

Thanks. So much for my own private cheerleader.

The next ten minutes were torture. I had to stand there and watch while half the girls in the senior class sang their hearts out, and all were really good.

When the last girl had sung, Mr. Richards said, “Okay, time to read. Is Carmen still here?”

“Yes!” I blurted out from the back of the auditorium.

“Would you come up? You can be the first to read, please, and then you can sing, if Tanya isn't too tired.” He glanced at the piano, and Tanya nodded.

I hurried to the stage, and Mr. Richards pointed to the script that I had clutched in my hand. “Page 40,” he said. “Jordan will read with you.”

Jordan was the kind of confident guy who always looked comfortable no matter where he was—on the basketball court, on a donkey, or on the stage. He leaped out of his seat, jumped onto the stage, and slouched into a folding chair.

“Ready?” he said to me.

I nodded, and we started the scene.

I don't remember all the lines, but it was a scene where Miss Adelaide was talking to Nathan Detroit about her job as a chorus girl at the Hot Box Club. I mean, seriously—the Hot Box Club? God, how come I hadn't noticed this in the script before? (Answer: I was too busy trying to cram the story, since I hadn't been able to rent the movie, since
someone
with the initials NA was basically too freaking selfish to share. In other words, this was all Natalie Anschell's fault.)

The minute I said the words “Hot Box,” a few guys burst out laughing in the audience. Of course they were all thinking about the stuff Joey had written on his blog.

My face turned bright red, and I glanced up at Jordan, who was snickering at the corners of his mouth but struggling to keep a straight face.

Mr. Richards had no idea why everyone was laughing. He assumed they were just being juvenile and laughing about the phrase “Hot Box.” So he stopped us and said, “Oh, for God's sake, people. Grow up. Could you please start at the beginning of page 40 again, Carmen?”

My heart sank. Not again, please.

I started over and tried to keep reading, but I stumbled on my lines. When I said “Hot Box” again, there was a louder twittering in the auditorium. Then the line “I have to work tonight” came up, and someone yelled out, “Yeah, work it, Carmen!”

My face flushed hot red; my throat closed up. All of a sudden I felt like a tramp, standing there in a slinky dress slit halfway up my thigh. Like this brilliant idea of dressing in costume had suddenly backfired, and I was the poster girl for the word
slut
.

I got through the rest of the page, fighting back the tears, but just barely.

“Okay,” Mr. Richards said, stopping me. “I know Adelaide is supposed to be sniffling all the time, but it's allergies, Carmen. That was more like tears. Anyway, let's move on. Are you ready to sing?”

I nodded, barely able to speak.

“All right, then.” He handed the music for “Take Back Your Mink” to Tanya. It's a song about a girl who gives back all these gifts, because she knows the man who gave them to her expected her to sleep with him in exchange.

I had sort of learned this song, since it was one of Miss Adelaide's, but it wasn't the song I really wanted to do. I mean, I knew people would snicker.

“Can I do ‘Bushel and a Peck' instead?” I asked.

“No.” Mr. Richards didn't look very happy with me right then.

“Okay,” I said in a meek voice.

I cleared my throat, Tanya started playing, and I tried to sing. Usually I have a fairly decent voice, sort of throaty like Carly Simon's, but it was scratchy now, and I forgot some of the words at the beginning. And as soon as I came to the line, “What made you think that I was one of those girls?” everyone laughed again.

Laughed.