D Is for Drama (3 page)

Chase leaned in close. “Because guys don't like girls with tuna fish hair,” he whispered.

I pushed him away with a smile. “Good-bye, Chase.”

“Good luck,” he said. “Let me know what happens.”

I took a deep breath and climbed the porch steps, hoping that maybe my parents had developed amnesia or moved without telling me. But when I opened the front door, my mom emerged from the family room, grinning broadly.

“There's my superstar!” she said. “Come here, Sunny!” She held her arms open and I walked into them.

“Hi, Mommy.” I hugged her, hoping she couldn't smell failure on me. “How was your day?”

“Very exciting!” she said, stepping back to take my hands. “You'll never guess who came to visit.” She pulled me into the family room, and every muscle in my body tensed. There was only one other person in the world who cared as much about the play as my parents, and she was sitting beside my dad on the couch, sipping jasmine tea.

My grandmother.

Chocolate Monkey churned in my stomach. “Hey, Dad. Hey, Grandma,” I said, summoning my most cheerful voice.

“Sunny!” Grandma pushed the teacup into my dad's
hands and hoisted herself off the couch to hug me. The second the greeting was over, she pulled away, her expression serious.

“What happened with the play?”

“Oh!” I laughed nervously. “Well . . . my friend on the selection committee said she loved my audition.”

Grandma stared at me, unblinking. “And?”

I looked from her to my mom and dad, who were sitting on the edge of the couch, holding each other's hands.

Now was the time for some big positive words.

“Well, I was brilliant and mesmerizing and . . .” My palms were starting to sweat under Grandma's scrutinous gaze.

“Did you get a good part?” she pressed.

“I got a
great
part,” I assured her. “It's the biggest part—”

“You got the biggest part?!” interrupted Grandma. She whooped with joy and turned to my parents. “She got the biggest part!”

Mom clasped her hands together and praised the sky, while Dad whistled through his fingers.

“Ohhh, shoot,” I muttered.

Apparently, jumping to conclusions was a family thing.

THREE

E
VEN WITH A SCRIPT
FROM
Chase I'd managed to botch things up. And I hadn't realized
how much my family had been hoping for good news. Mom and Grandma were actually
tangoing
across the room.

“Wait,” I said. “You've got it all
wrong.”

“She's right,” said Grandma, pointing at Mom's
feet. “You're off a step.”

“No,” I said. “I mean—”

Mom squished my face in her hands. “I'm so proud! My daughter
 . . . star of the school play!”

“But Mom,” I forced the words through chubby cheeks.
“It's not that big a—”

I was going to say “part,” but
Dad
interrupted this time.

“Of course it's that big a deal!” he said, tousling my
hair.

“We've waited forever!” added Grandma.

Dad shot her a warning look and Grandma shrugged. “It's
true.”

Mom waved her away and hugged me tight. “Tonight we'll do
whatever you want to celebrate!”

At the moment all I
wanted
was to crawl into a
hole and die. It was too late to tell them I didn't get the lead role. The truth
would kill them, and then I'd be sent to prison, where nobody won an Oscar.

No, until I could think of something better, I'd have to pretend
life was perfect and that my dream had come true.

Summoning a huge smile, I said, “Can we go to Guero's for
dinner? All this excitement's made me hungry!”

Everyone laughed.

“Of course!” said Dad. “You've earned
it.”

I should have, for
that
performance. For good
measure, I jumped up and down, clapping my hands and hating myself.

“Yay! Let me get ready!” I grabbed my bag and hurried
upstairs. It was too dangerous to call Chase, so I texted him instead.

Help! Parents think I'm a
star!
I typed.

Guess those astronomy lessons were a waste
, he
responded.

“Chase!” I squeezed the phone in frustration. This was
no
time for jokes.

Someone knocked on the other side of my door and I froze.

“Everything okay?” called Mom.

“Yeah! I'm just changing!” I said, pulling on my
jeans.

“We'll be in the car,” said Mom. “Don't make
us wait too long!”

“Be right out!” I told her. I started to type a response to
Chase, but the phone vibrated with another message from him.

Okay, bad joke
, he typed.
Set
things straight. Gotta hang w/ my dad and defend theater. Good luck!

With a frustrated sigh, I threw the phone in my purse. No way could I set
things straight right now. Not with my family singing some Korean victory song in the
driveway. I'd just have to act like I was a good actress.

Ironic.

The second I climbed in the car, my parents and grandmother started firing
questions at me, wanting more details about the play.

“What's your rehearsal schedule?” asked Dad.

“When do rehearsals
start
?” asked Mom.

“Are you wearing another potato sack?” asked Grandma.
“Because last time, I hugged you and got a rash.”

Mom clapped a hand to her forehead and Dad turned his attention to the
road.

“You know, I was just so excited, I forgot to ask.” I laughed
and shook my head. “I'll find out tomorrow.”

Mom smiled and nodded, leaning back in her seat, but Grandma just stared
at me.

“It took a month for the rash to go away,” she said.

My phone vibrated in my bag and I jumped to answer it, hoping it was
Chase. Unfortunately, the caller ID said Stefan. I ignored the insistent buzzing.

Grandma nudged me. “Answer the phone! It could be your drama
teacher!”

“It's Stefan,” I told her. “I'll call him
back later.”

Mom turned around. “He probably wants to know about the play
results. You should give him the good news!”

“He
did
put a lot of effort into your
audition,” Dad chimed in.

“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth, and answered the
phone.

“Sunny!” chirped Stefan.

I took a deep breath, pasted on a wide grin, and said,
“Hey, Stefan! What's up?”

“Do we have something to celebrate?” he asked.

My whole body stiffened, but I forced myself to keep smiling. “No,
not at all!” I said. At the curious look from my family, I put my hand over the
mouthpiece and told them, “He wants to know if he's interrupting.”

“Ahhh,” said my mother with a nod of understanding.

“Awww!” said Stefan with a tone of anguish. “They gave
you a crappy little part again, didn't they?”

“They sure did!” I said with a laugh and a wink at my
grandma.

“Well, this is crazy,” said Stefan. “I'll talk to
Ms. Elliott and figure out what happened. You did
not
deserve
to be overlooked.”

The smile on my face was genuine now.

“Thanks, Stefan,” I said.

“I'll call you when I have info,” he said and hung
up.

I put my phone down and Grandma frowned.

“You done talking? He didn't want details?”

“Uh . . . no,” I said, thinking fast.
“He had to go. There was something burning on the stove.”

“I didn't know Stefan could cook,” said Mom.

“He can't. That's why it was
burning. Look, there's Guero's!” I pointed out the window, grateful
for a change of subject.

We pulled into the parking lot, and Dad walked around to my side.

“Celebrities first,” he said, opening the door.

“Consider us your entourage,” added Mom.

Two parents and an old lady with a potato sack allergy. That seemed like
the kind of entourage I deserved.

“Thank you,” I said, ducking my head modestly as I climbed out
of the car.

Guero's was famous for their garlic bread, which I normally loved,
but this time I couldn't bring myself to eat more than half a slice.

“You okay?” asked Mom, rubbing my shoulder. “I thought
you liked the bread here.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Chase and I shared a muffin
after school. I guess I'm still kind of full.”

She nodded and brushed my hair away from my face.

“We should ask Chase and his father over for dinner,” said
Dad. “I like talking politics with him.”

“Sunny should marry the boy,” said Grandma. “He would
make a fine husband.”

My parents exchanged looks, and I blushed.

“Grandma, I'm thirteen,” I said. “And Chase and I
aren't like that. We're just friends.”

Grandma waggled a finger in my face. “Your grandfather and I were
just friends. But then he gave me a pig.”

I wrinkled my forehead. “That doesn't even make
sense.”

“Chase gave you a muffin,” said Grandma.

“Because we're
friends
,” I
said again. “Not because he likes me. There're no farm animals in my
future.”

“Maybe not,” Dad chimed in. “But what your grandmother
says isn't that strange. Your mom even did a one-woman show about a princess who
received cattle as marriage offers.” He smiled and took Mom's hand.
“What did you call it?”

She smiled back. “
The Cow Girl
.”

Dad chuckled. “The people who went to see it were expecting a
Western about cowgirls.”

Everyone laughed, and I nibbled on garlic bread, picturing my mom in a
one-woman show. She would have been the top-billed and
only
star, every actress's ultimate dream. I could only hope someday—

Wait! Why not now?

I gasped in excitement and inhaled a bite of bread.
When I started coughing, everyone glanced over in alarm, and Grandma whacked me on
the back. Before she could break my spine, I gave a thumbs-up and took a long drink of
soda.

“Are you okay?” asked Mom.

I nodded.

I was
more
than okay. I was brilliant!

The moment I got home, I called Stefan. My plan was way too exciting to
wait until after he'd talked to Ms. Elliott.

If CAA wasn't going to choose me to star in any of their shows,
I'd just have to star in my own. That way, I'd be telling my family the
truth
and
I'd get the part I always wanted. Plus, I was
pretty sure nobody in CAA history had ever attempted a one-girl show. I'd be a
legend!

“Hello?” said Stefan over a background madness of barking and
squawking.

His parents owned a cute pet shop called Feathers 'N' Fangs,
and sometimes he covered the register.

“Stefan?” I asked. “Are you at work?”

“Yeah, but with all the whining and screeching, it could just as
easily be
Idol
auditions.”

I laughed. “Why don't you tell the animals to be
quiet?”

“I can't. When I raise my voice, the rabbits freak out
and go bald,” he said. “What's up? I
haven't called Ms. Elliott yet.”

“That's fine,” I said, settling on the floor by my bed.
“I've got an even better plan that'll make me famous.”

“Uh-oh,” said Stefan. “You're not going to jump
off the roof with a cape again, are you?”

“Of course not.” I lifted the corner of my comforter and
ducked under it, pushing aside a stack of DVDs to look for scripts. One of the perks of
having parents in the film business was access to loads of movie junk. “What would
you say if I told you I was doing a one-girl show?”

Stefan gasped. “I'd say you're
brilliant
!” He paused. “Oops. A rabbit just lost some
fur.”

I pulled a stack of scripts into my lap and flipped through them. “I
could use help, though,” I said. “I'm not sure what piece to do. You
think I should ask Bree too?”

She knew every play from
Annie
to
Ziegfeld Girl
.

“I think first you should clear your idea with Ms. Elliott,”
said Stefan.

I paused. “Oh . . . right.” A feeling of dread
crept up my spine. “You don't think she'll say no, do you?”

“Maybe,” he said. “You're competing for stage time
with the
Mary Pops In
cast.”

“Right,” I said again, biting my lip. I hadn't seen much
of the script, but from what I'd heard, there were at
least three dance numbers, including the chimney sweep waltz and a hip-hop dance to
“Tuppence a Bag, Y'all.”

“Okay, I'll talk to her tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Great! Keep me posted?” Stefan asked.

“Of course!” I said, with more enthusiasm than I actually
felt. Asking Ms. Elliott's permission had been the last thing on my mind. If she
wouldn't let me do my show, I was sunk.

With a heavy sigh, I hefted my scripts onto the bed and joined them,
tucking my stuffed dog Rufus under one arm. I was too old for toys, but he was the
closest thing to a pet I'd ever had . . . other than one poor,
trampled hamster.

My parents bought Rufus when I was five, swearing that he came to life at
bedtime. I probably would have believed it forever if I hadn't accidentally popped
out one of Rufus's eyes.

To keep me from needing extensive therapy, my parents confessed that he
wasn't real and that Dad was allergic to dogs. They'd lied about Rufus to
spare my feelings.