Showstopper (19 page)

Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and lollipops (and juice boxes). We had to deal with the rowdier day campers who were always listening at the door or trying to sneak in and spy on our rehearsals. And there were even a few CCC regulars who resented our temporary presence. I suppose on some level I understood that. If strangers ever started hanging around our clubhouse theater, I'd probably be pretty annoyed.

One girl in particular, who came every afternoon to use the computer room, was always giving me dirty looks. Her name was Tessa Trent; I knew because she had taken swimming lessons with me back in the day. Of course back then she wasn't a tough-as-nails rock 'n' roll wannabe.

On Thursday afternoon, Susan, Austin, and I were coming out of the theater into the main lobby. That was when we saw Tessa arriving, clutching her drumsticks. As always, she gave us an icy scowl.

“What's her problem?” Susan huffed.

I had been wondering the same thing all week, so I'd made a few inquiries. Now I told Susan and Austin what I had learned.

“According to Mrs. Sawicki,” I said, “Tessa and some of her friends are in a heavy metal rock band.”

“Well, that explains the eyebrow ring,” said Austin dryly.

“They call themselves Upchuck,” I went on.

“So gross,” said Susan. “And yet . . . so fitting.”

“Why is she always hanging around here?” asked Austin.

“She comes to use some really cool music-mixing software program they have on the computer,” I explained.

“Then what's she got against us?” Susan persisted. “We don't go anywhere near the computer room.”

I sighed. “Mrs. Sawicki told me that Upchuck was hoping to rent the stage for a week of band rehearsal and a concert. Tessa's even gone as far as appealing to Mrs. Napolitano to have us thrown out! She thinks since she's a full-time CCC member, she has more of a right to the auditorium than we do.”

“It's not our fault we signed up for the theater before she
did,” Susan observed.

“Odysseus had Poseidon,” Austin quipped. “We've got her.”

Tessa came stomping over in her lace-up boots. For one crazy second I thought she was going to start banging on my head with her drumsticks like I was a human snare drum.

“Aren't you done with that play yet?” she demanded.

“No,” I said, trying not to sound terrified, and failing miserably, given the way she was glowering at me. “Not yet.”

“Well, how much longer do you plan on hogging the theater?”

Unfortunately, I didn't have an answer to that question. Things were still very up in the air back at Random Farms, and I couldn't say for sure if we'd be needing the stage for that crucial third week of rehearsals (tech week!) and ultimately for the show. So I just smiled and said, “Excuse me, but my ride is waiting,” then I grabbed Susan's hand and ran out of the lobby with Austin right behind us.

“She really wants us out,” he observed when we were safely on the front steps of the CCC.

“I'm not worried,” I said, remembering the day Mrs. Crandall had put us in the special events computer calendar. “We've got our pink highlight to protect us.”

After that unpleasant encounter, it was a relief that
Friday's rehearsal went so well.

I arrived at the theater to find Maxie and Kevin, the arts and crafts volunteer, beaming over the sketches for Jane's Charybdis costume.

“It's a masterpiece,” Kevin assured me on his way out. “You're going to love it.”

I took a step toward Maxie, who quickly thrust the tear sheet behind her back.

“Wait!” she said, holding up her palm like a traffic cop. “The drawing doesn't do it justice. You have to wait until you can see the real thing.”

“Okay,” I said with a shrug. “So when do you think you'll be ready to unveil this masterpiece?”

“As soon as Jane gets here,” Maxie promised. “You have to see this costume in action.”

“I have to see a
costume
in
action?
”

Maxie gave me a nod and a smile. “You'll see,” she said, her tone filled with mystery.

I would have pressed her for more info, but the rest of the cast had begun to arrive, and it seemed that everyone had a question for me.

Teddy (aka Odysseus) wanted to know if I could have Maxie somehow use makeup on his chest and arms to make his pectoral muscles and biceps look bigger and more
defined. The term
airbrushing
was bandied about. I said if it was okay with Maxie, it was okay with me.

Sophia informed me that she was going to once again employ the services of her own personal hair stylist for the show. “But only for my role as Circe,” she clarified. “Not Cyclops.”

That made sense. I mean, really, Sophia's costume included a hood, and how much actual hair-styling can you do to a bath mat?

Brady had requested long white hair for his Poseidon scenes, which Maxie had been able to provide, thanks to the collection of weird wigs Mrs. Quandt had contributed. He tried it on for me, wondering if I thought it looked more godlike parted on the side or down the middle.

Some of the other actors had queries about lines and blocking. Nora wanted to know if I had any advice for crying on cue, and my Greek chorus, who were playing newscasters, suggested we find some handheld microphones for them to use as props.

“I'll have Brittany put them on the list,” I said.

The only person who didn't approach me with urgent business to discuss was Mackenzie. She just breezed in with her dance bag—ten minutes late—and said nothing. I would have called her on her tardiness, but A) I didn't want to waste
precious moments hearing her explanation, and B) I got the feeling something was up with her. Maybe her audition for the New York ballet company had gone badly. Or maybe she just really missed carbohydrates.

It wasn't until both Jane and Deon had arrived (because there was an important lighting cue involved) that we finally got our first look at the Charybdis costume.

And you'll just have to believe me when I tell you, it was definitely worth the wait!

As the day rolled on, I became more and more anxious. To make matters worse, Sophia kept giving Nora dirty looks, and Mackenzie seemed distracted, constantly glancing at the clock.

“What time is it?” she asked just as I was about to give Travis a note.

“Time for you to get a watch!” I snapped. “And also time for you to stop worrying about what time it is and focus on rehearsal.”

I felt bad for shouting, but I couldn't help it. I was a nervous wreck.

Travis looked at me kind of funny and asked, “Anya, are
you okay?”

“I'm just a little antsy,” I confessed. “After all, today's the day I meet with Mr. Healy to find out if we can move the show back into the clubhouse theater.”

“Yeah,” said Deon, with a cautious look. “About that . . .”

Half the cast was suddenly looking as nervous and hopeful as I felt. And the other half looked downright disappointed. Deon, especially, looked like he had an opinion on the subject.

“D,” I said. “What are you thinking?”

“I dunno,” he said, shrugging. “I guess I'm thinking it feels like a step backward.”

“What does?”

“Going back to that grubby old barn.”

Those words stung. Had he really just called our theater a . . . a . . . I couldn't even bring myself to
think
the phrase!

“How can you say that?” cried Maddie. I was shocked to see her eyes welling with tears. “Don't you remember how hard we worked cleaning that place?”

“And our curtain,” said Spencer. “Our curtain's pretty cool.”

“But this place has great sound,” Elle pointed out. “And look at these seats.”

“And the lights are amazing,” Sophia added.

This was no surprise. She was probably thinking about how gorgeous she was going to look playing Circe under the warm glow of the CCC's high-tech lighting effects.

“I
definitely
wanna go back to the clubhouse,” said Gracie. “My brother complains every time he has to drive me here because it makes him late for work. He's making me do his chores around the house to make up for it.”

“Two words,” said Teddy, pointing to a vent near the auditorium ceiling. “
Air. Conditioning
.”

“Two more words,” snarled Susan. “
Who. Cares?
”

I stood there, my mouth hanging open, as the entire cast began to bicker. Nora, Brady, Joey, Brittany, and Gina remained relatively neutral, since they had no preexisting ties to the clubhouse, but Joey did mention he couldn't imagine the acoustics at the old barn being anywhere near as good as they were here.

I turned to Austin. “You want to go back to the clubhouse, don't you?”

Austin bit his lip. “Well, you have to admit, this place is pretty outstanding.”

I couldn't have felt worse if he'd kicked me in the shins. “Wow,” I said, the disbelief clear in my voice. “Disloyal, much?”

“Oh, c'mon, Anya. Don't be like that. You know this
theater is incredible.”

“It is incredible,” I conceded, “but it's not ours. It was always supposed to be temporary. And I don't care how cushy the seats are or how high-tech the sound system is. That ‘grubby old barn' was where we came together and did something fantastic. And we did it all on our own terms.” I didn't realize I was yelling these words until I noticed the entire cast staring at me. Well, fine. They needed to hear it, too.

“Haven't you guys ever heard of loyalty?” I demanded. “Not to mention the fact that the clubhouse theater belongs to us and us alone. We're in charge. Doesn't that matter to any of you?”

No one answered. In fact, the room had gone completely silent. I could see them weighing what I'd said against the image of their friends and family taking in the show while reclining in those comfy seats, enjoying the cool air, and marveling at the clarity of the sound and the beauty of the light washes.

I imagined it too, and still, there was nothing I wanted more than to be back in our own theater.

“Maybe we should put it to a vote,” Maxie suggested. “That seems fair.”

It did. But that didn't mean I didn't hate the idea. “I don't know,” I said stiffly. “I'm the producer and the director, and
it's my job to make these kinds of decisions.”

This reminder was met with blank stares, and a frown from Deon. As much as I wanted to stand my ground, I realized I'd probably be better off in the long run letting them have their say. So I swallowed hard and announced, “Fine. We'll vote. All those in favor of doing the show here at the CCC theater, raise your hands.”

Sophia's hand shot up like a rocket. Then Deon's. Joey and Elle raised their hands very slowly . . . but they raised them.

I held my breath, waiting to see what Austin would do. . . . So far, he was doing nothing.

Then Brittany raised her hand (but I think her vote was based mostly on geography, since she lived only a few blocks from the CCC), and so did Mackenzie. Brady and Nora raised theirs, too.

Susan did a quick count. “Eight,” she said, relieved. “Not a majority. We're going back to the clubhouse!”

The cast members who hadn't raised their hands cheered. I wanted to shout for joy, but I managed to contain myself. It wouldn't have been professional. Instead I addressed my comments to those who had voted for the CCC. “I'm sorry, guys. I know this place is terrific. But we're a kids' theater. And since this place is run by adults, not kids, I think we're doing the right thing by going back to the clubhouse.” I
smiled around at them. “No hard feelings?”

“Plenty of hard feelings,” Sophia seethed. “But whatever. I still get an awesome solo, wherever we do the show.”

Everyone who'd voted to stay at the CCC was frowning and rolling their eyes. Deon especially looked more than a little miffed. I told everyone to take a three-minute water break. Then I approached Deon.

“D?”

“What?”

“You've gotta understand—” I began, but he cut me off with a cold look.

“Why do I ‘gotta' understand, when you don't?” He shook his head and I could tell he was more frustrated than angry. “You didn't even listen to me, Anya.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn't. What I was saying made a lot of sense. But all you cared about was being in charge and not answering to grown-ups.”

I considered this. He wasn't entirely without a point. “Fine,” I said. “That's a little bit true. But don't you like how it feels not to have to answer to anyone?”

“I wouldn't know how it feels,” he said in a clipped tone. “Because
I
answer to
you
.”

With that, he stormed off to the control booth.

“That didn't go well,” said Austin, approaching me and wearing a grim look.

“You wanted to stay here too, didn't you?” I said. “But you didn't raise your hand.”