Leading Ladies #2 (12 page)

We managed to make it halfway through the next week with no drama whatsoever. But all that changed on Wednesday, when Ivy and I were sitting on a bench outside the cafeteria eating our sandwiches and enjoying an unusually warm October day.

Tally rushed over. She was wearing a long, crushed purple dress that made her look like a cross between a Hogwarts professor and a sixties rock star. Her hair was all over the place—she looked like she'd been outside playing in a windstorm.

“Here you both are,” Tally exclaimed, lunging toward us.

She looked like a charging lion that had overvolumized its mane.

“Y'all cannot believe it. You can't!”

I knew better than to guess what it was I would not believe. It could be anything from a tweet about a spaceship landing to a sighting of the cast of the
Twilight
movies at the local zoo.

“What's going on?” I asked.

Tally perched on the edge of the bench, so breathless she could get only a few words out at a time.

“Valerie Tee . . . ,” she breathed.

“Teale . . . ,” Ivy prompted.

Tally nodded as she gulped more air. “Just went home with the fuuu . . .”

I stared at Tally. “With the flu?”

Tally shrieked and grabbed my arms, nodding wildly.

“Yes! Valerie Teale has the flu!”

“Didn't I say that girl's bad karma would come back to her?” Ivy asked. She took another bite of her sandwich.

“But what does this mean?” I asked. “What do you do about the showcase?”

“Mr. Barrymore posted a notice on the bulletin board outside the office. There's an emergency meeting called for three in the auditorium today,” Tally said, jumbling one word over the next. “No one knows for sure what will happen. But there's only a week and a half until our first dress rehearsal, that's the one you're seeing so you can do the review, Paulie. Mr. Barrymore might feel like it's too risky to see how long she takes to get better.”

“In which case . . .”

“They'd have to pick someone to step into the part! An understudy!”

“Tally, wow,” I said.

“Right?” she cried. “Because he had a sign-up sheet out a few weeks ago for people who wanted to understudy, and I signed up!”

“Wow, wow, wow . . . ,” I said. “I mean . . . wow. So—”

“So you guys have to come with me to the emergency meeting today!” Tally said. “It could be a huge moment for the
4 Girls
article. An enormous, unforeseen tragedy that is the unwitting birth of a new, young Broadway star!”

“But Mr. Barrymore had that sign up about only actors being allowed in,” Ivy reminded Tally.

She shook her head.

“No, that was just for the audition week,” she assured me. “And it's not like you're just some random people. You're with
4 Girls
! We did an interview with him—we're featuring the play!”

“Look, I'll try, okay?” I promised her. “If we're allowed in, I'll definitely go.”

“Me too,” Ivy said.

Tally's eyes were shining.

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “Y'all, I have a feeling today is going to be the greatest day of my entire life!”

“So far,” Ivy corrected. “The greatest day of your life so far. Leave a little room for improvement in the next four or five decades.”

“Yes!” Tally said, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “Oh, I can't believe this. I haven't even seen Audriana and Buster yet—I've got to go find them!”

She leaped to her feet, almost knocking my sandwich out of my hand in the process.

“See y'all at three, okay?” she yelled over her shoulder as she tore wildly off.

I nudged Ivy. “It is kind of amazing, right? I'm so happy for Tally.”

“Let's not celebrate the completion of Tally's hopes and dreams just yet,” Ivy said. “She could get the flu, too, you know.”

“No, she won't,” I said, grinning. And I completely believed that. Tally would step into the role of Annie with every cell in her body. And being Annie did not include having the flu—Tally would make sure of that, by sheer force of will.

• • • • • • •

At three on the nose that afternoon, Ivy and I walked into the auditorium. The “actors only” sign had been taken off the door, and nobody objected to our presence. The Drama Club kids were sitting in the first few rows, waiting. The atmosphere was very subdued. I guess people were really worried about what would happen and that the show might get canceled altogether.

Tally was sitting with Buster in the third row.

“Should we just go sit next to her?” I asked Ivy.

She nodded.

We made our way up the aisle and slid into the empty seats.

“Hey, Tally,” I said. “Hey, Buster.”

Tally turned and smiled at me, but she still looked distinctly nervous. She made a
shh
gesture, putting her finger to her lips, then pointing at her throat.

“Oh no,” I said to Buster. “Not again—she was fine at lunch!”

“Nope,” Buster said quickly. “No laryngitis. She decided to conserve her voice. If she takes over as Annie, she's going to need every ounce of it, so she's decided to speak only when absolutely necessary.”

Tally nodded, confirming Buster's explanation.

“Now
that
I'll have to see to believe,” Ivy murmured.

I noticed movement onstage. Mr. Barrymore was walking out from the wings. As usual he looked dignified, even a little elegant, in a black turtleneck and neatly pleated tweed pants.

Buster leaned around Tally and whispered, “Audriana saw him at Foodtown over the weekend. Know what he was getting? Four boxes of Lean Cuisine dinners and a six pack of Tasty-Shack chocolate pudding.”

“Thanks, Buster,” I said. “Hopefully by the end of the year I can get that image out of my brain.”

“I know, right?” Buster asked, grinning. “It's so creepy when you remember your teachers are human.”

“Where is Audriana, anyway?” I asked. The three of them always sat together.

Mr. Barrymore cleared his throat loudly. Suddenly every eye in the room was on him, and no one was making a sound.

“Okay,” he said. “Let's cut right to the chase. I'm sure you all know that Valerie Teale was sent home with the flu. I spoke to the school nurse, who tells me that in the last three weeks, Valerie is the twenty-eighth student to get this virus. According to her records, the average time students with this strain of the flu have been out is between three and four days. Given that our first complete run-through with costumes and lights is a week from tomorrow, combined with the huge amount of work we need to accomplish in the next several days, I believe the decision is fairly clear-cut. We must recast and have an understudy step in to play Valerie's role.”

There was a little murmuring at that. Next to me, Tally said nothing. She sat very still and seemed to be focusing on Mr. Barrymore with every fiber in her body.

“Fortunately, we are professionals. The theater is full of surprises, and when we are professionals, we find a way to deal with them. Two weeks ago I put out a sign-up sheet for understudies to prepare for just such a surprise. Those of you who signed up were asked to indicate what part you were willing to understudy for. I'm not going to bore you with a long speech about the importance of the understudy—how it often involves a great deal of work with absolutely no payoff—how understudies are literally the unsung heroes of the stage. Suffice it to say . . . not many of you volunteered your names. So I would like to very heartily acknowledge and thank those of you who did.”

Mr. Barrymore reached into his pocket and unfolded a piece of paper.

“I've gone over the names of those who signed up to understudy for the part of Annie, reviewed my original audition notes, my rehearsal notes, and had a phone conference with Ms. Whelan, who has, of course, worked with many of you on other productions and has a very good understanding of each of your capabilities as both actors and singers. Taking all of that information into consideration, I have chosen an understudy who I am certain will perform admirably in the role of Annie. So without further ado—our new Annie is Audriana Bingley.”

In the brief silence before people began clapping, I heard Tally's sharp intake of breath. Buster was leaning forward in his seat, looking extremely surprised but clapping. Tally sat frozen, staring straight ahead.

I looked around. Audriana was several rows back. She was sitting up very straight, her expression unreadable. She avoided looking in Tally's direction.

“Okay, we obviously have a lot of work to do to get our new Annie up to speed,” Mr. Barrymore was saying. “I'd like to start with a read-through on book, with blocking. So if you are in scene one, bring your script and come up to the stage right now.”

Audriana was making her way toward the stage, looking a bit grim, like she was about to go off to war.

“Tal, before you ask, Audie didn't say anything to me about signing up to be an understudy,” Buster said.

“Can you blame her?” Ivy asked.

“I'm betting Tally can,” Buster said, arching one eyebrow.

I leaned closer to Tally.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

Tally bit her lower lip, then shook her head. She looked at me, her eyes filled with tears.

“She knew how bad I wanted to get this,” Tally said very quietly.

“And she never said anything about wanting the same thing?” I asked.

“Why would she?” Tally snapped. “Audriana doesn't go for the big parts. She's not the leading lady type.”

“Well, maybe now she is,” Ivy said. “People change. Look at Miko, dumping the PQuit Dance Committee. I'm telling you, I don't think anything would surprise me now.”

I squeezed Tally's arm. Now was definitely not the time to point out that this wasn't the first time Tally had classified Audriana as non–leading lady material. That maybe Audriana had taken it to heart and found it hurtful.

“You should talk to her,” I said quietly. “Ask her why she didn't tell you.”

Tally fixed me with a look I'd never seen from her before. It was angry and cold.

“I am never, ever speaking to Audriana Bingley again,” Tally said grimly.

I heard the pianist begin playing the first song. The actors had taken their places onstage. Mr. Barrymore was still there, leading Audriana to the spot where Annie was supposed to be standing. He was pointing to the script she held and explaining something. Audriana listened intently, nodding every once in a while. Mr. Barrymore gave a satisfied nod and hopped off the stage, standing at seat level with his arms folded as the read-through began.

I snuck another look at Tally. Her expression was still angry, but this time her eyes were not on Audriana.

She was staring at Mr. Barrymore, her lips pressed tightly together.

Onstage, Audriana began to sing.

“Okay, so what's this big thing you have to tell me?” I asked when Ivy came into my room and closed the door behind her.

“It's news. I talked to my parents last night, just like I promised. I asked them to tell me flat out what was going on, and they did. There's good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

Oh no. I didn't want to find out what day Ivy was moving. I especially didn't want to find that out right now as I was getting ready for one of the biggest nights of my life. But if she wanted to talk about it . . . then I guess we would talk about it.

“Um, bad news first, I guess,” I said. Might as well get it over with.

“The bad news is that the publishing director of
4 Girls
—that would be me—is a world-class Olympic-level moron.”

“Um . . . okay . . . not sure I agree with that, but am I supposed to ask for the good news now?”

“Yep,” Ivy said. “The good news is . . . drumroll, please . . . we are not moving!”

My mouth dropped open.

“WHAT?!”
I shrieked.

Ivy nodded, laughing. “I'm staying! We're not going anywhere!”

I lunged to hug Ivy, remembering just in time to turn my face away so I didn't smear the moisturizer I had slathered on all over her beautiful dress.

“What happened?” I cried. “She didn't take the job?”

“She
did
take the job,” Ivy said. “She's working from home—it was never supposed to be an office job.
City Nation
wants her as an editorial consultant. She'll have to go in to their office a few times a month, but that's it! That's why they never told me—there was nothing to tell, at least there was only the job thing, and they were still fiddling with the details.”

“You're not moving! Woot!!”

“Right?” Ivy asked with a wild grin on her face. “And that's what I get for eavesdropping. With my ear pressed up against the door, I only got half the story. You were
soooo
right when you tried to convince me to just talk to my mother. If I'd just asked her what was going on, I would have known there was never any discussion of moving. I basically invented that entire drama in my own head!”

“It's because you hang around Tally more now,” I said. “It's contagious.”

“We better hope that's not true,” Ivy said. She made one final adjustment to my necklace.

“You're not moving,” I said, because it sounded so fabulous to say.

“I am
not
moving,” Ivy repeated. “Now sit down—I want to fix your hair.”

The heavy feeling I'd been carrying around—that this great thing I had been given was being taken away—disappeared. I felt fabulous.

“This is so amazing. I can't wait to tell Evelyn. Hey, speaking of Tally, you haven't heard from her, have you?” I asked Ivy, who was now doing something to my hair as I sat patiently on the edge of my bed. “I mean, outside of seeing her in class, obviously.”

“Not since the understudy thing on Wednesday,” Ivy said, frowning as she concentrated on whatever she was doing to the back of my head.

“Me neither,” I told her. “She hasn't responded to any of my e-mails. It's been three days. I'm worried about her.”

“I know,” Ivy said. “But I don't think there's anything we can do for her right now. She's got to get through this. She's furious at her best friend, and she feels humiliated that she didn't get the part. Plus, remember, she practically idolized Mr. Barrymore, only to find out he wasn't exactly the guy she thought he was. That's a lot.”

“It is a lot,” I said. “That's why I'm worried about her.”

“Well, for now,” Ivy said, standing back to admire her handiwork, “let's just worry about you and this dance. Your hair looks good. It's going to be time to go soon.”

I felt a flutter in my stomach as I got up to check my reflection.

“And you really think it's better to wear my hair down?” I asked nervously, examining my reflection in the full-length mirror on my closet door. Ivy had made little braids and connected them with a sparkly clip in the back, but the rest hung loose.

“Definitely,” Ivy said. “These curls are amazing. And boys love long hair. Paulina, look at yourself!”

I was. The hair, the dress, the boots Ivy had lent me—everything was working.

I look really pretty
, I thought.

“Now all you need is some perfume,” Ivy said.

“Oh no, Ivy, I never wear perfume,” I said quickly. “I don't like the way any of it smells.”

“You'll like this,” Ivy said, pulling a little glass bottle out of her purse. “It's called Japanese Agarwood. Lisa Hoffman makes it, and all of her stuff is amazing.”

She opened the little bottle and let me smell it. It was wonderful. A mix of flower and wood and a hint of spice.

“I love it,” I said. Because I really did.

Ivy applied a few dabs to my neck and wrist.

“Just enough,” she said. “The trick to perfume is to never put too much of it on. Paulie, you look absolutely gorgeous.”

I gave Ivy a tight hug.

“You look gorgeous, too,” I said.

Ivy grinned and did a little spin. She was wearing an emerald-green, silk dress with tiny, pink flowers embroidered on it.

“Vintage,” she said. “It's from China.”

“It's amazing,” I said. “Listen, are you sure you don't want to ride over with us?”

“Are you nuts?” Ivy said. “I'm not hitching a ride along on your first date. I'll see you over there. I'll be the one standing at the punch bowl pretending not to watch you.”

There was a knock on my door, which swung open before I had a chance to respond.

My mother stood there staring at me. She began to shake her head, looking slightly dazed. I felt suddenly alarmed.

“What?” I asked. “Why are you doing that?”

Then I noticed her eyes filling with tears. She waved her hand in front of her face—the old a-breeze-will-help-me-stop-being-emotional gesture, and she smiled.

“Sweetie, you just look
so
 . . . beautiful,” she said, her voice quavering.

I blushed.

“Mom, stop,” I murmured. She was embarrassing me. But it was also kind of nice.

Kevin appeared in the doorway behind my mother, and when he saw me, he looked like he was gearing up to utter the loudest laugh he could muster. But when he caught sight of Ivy standing behind me, he clamped his mouth shut, his face turning bright red. I no longer had any doubt. The kid was
totally
crushing on my best friend.

“Heya, squirt,” Ivy addressed him. “Keeping the battlestar clean and the universe free of Cylons?”

“No,” Kevin said. He dashed out of the room. “I mean, yes!” he yelled over his shoulder.

My mother smiled.

“Ivy, did you say your mother is picking you up at six fifteen?” she asked.

Ivy nodded.

“Okay. That's in just a few minutes—I'll leave you two alone.”

She closed the door. I took a big breath and grinned like an idiot at Ivy.

“Benny is coming here at seven,” I said. “I'm so afraid I'm going to make a fool of myself.”

“You are not,” Ivy said. “Stop saying that or you will hypnotize yourself into actually acting like a fool!”

I laughed. “I feel hypnotized. Like I'm sleepwalking. I'll probably forget something really obvious and important, like my shoes.”

I heard voices downstairs.

“Sounds like my mom's here to pick me up,” Ivy said. “So I'll see you at the dance in, like, an hour, okay?”

I gulped. “Okay.”

“It's going to be an amazing night, Paulie,” Ivy promised as she walked out of my room.

I had awakened that morning knowing it was going to be an amazing night. With Ivy's news, it had just gone from amazing to perfect.