Showstopper (9 page)

7

As Austin, Susan, and I sat on the front porch, I noticed what a busy place Random Farms Circle was on a sunny afternoon. I saw young mothers with strollers, kids on skateboards, and older couples walking tiny fluffy dogs on leashes.

“I never realized how much foot traffic there is around here,” I said, an idea forming in the back of my brain. “I think we can use that to our advantage, financially.”

“How?” asked Susan.

“Well, one of the things on Mom's grocery list for Nana was baking ingredients. Flour, shortening . . . chocolate chips.”

“I'm listening . . .,” said Austin.

“Broadway theaters sell refreshments, right? Well, what if we held a pre-show bake sale? We can set up a table right under the tree there. Look at all these people walking by! I bet they'll be happy to buy a few cupcakes and cookies to
support the arts.”

“I like it,” said Susan. “Of course, I'm always up for anything that includes frosting.”

“Let's do it,” said Austin. “How about Tuesday, after rehearsal?”

I had Susan text the actors about my idea, and everyone responded that they thought it was a good one. Jane, Maddie, and Elle offered to bake brownies; Nora promised a batch of lemon bars. Spencer said his mother made the world's best Rice Krispies Treats. Gracie promised us a whole tray of baklava, and Gina informed us she had an uncle who owned an Italian bakery in Armonk; she'd see if she could get him to donate some pastries.

When Susan went inside to run the bake sale plan by Nana and Papa, Austin and I got down to business.

The Sirens were a no-brainer. Jane, Maddie, and Elle would play the mythical seductresses with a sassy sixties spin.

Casting the role of Penelope was equally simple. Austin and I agreed that Nora would be perfect.

“Sophia's gonna flip,” Austin predicted.

“What else is new?” I sighed. “But Nora is the better choice. I was thinking we could give Sophia the role of Athena . . . until I saw Travis.”

Austin grinned. “Yeah, he was excellent! I think he'll have
the audience in stitches.”

So Travis was cast as Athena. We decided we'd have Maxie get him a better, less itchy wig and dress him in a flowing tuniclike gown with a golden belt. He'd be hilarious. In fact, he would bring down the house. I was laughing just thinking about him playing the beautiful and powerful goddess.

“And as long as we're thinking outside the box,” said Austin, “what about Kenzie as Odysseus? She was terrific.”

I considered this, then shook my head. “I'd rather see her play a character who does more dancing. It would be a shame not to showcase her talents.”

“You're right,” said Austin, tapping his pen against the pad. “Here's a thought. Sophia as Cyclops.”

I laughed. “Oh, Susan will love that!”

“I know. But I'm not just suggesting this to get Sophia's goat.”

“No pun intended,” I joked, remembering that the Cyclops was, by trade, a goatherd. “But you make a good point. Sophia could really tackle the role. It would be a chance for her to prove she can actually act, and not always be the prima donna or the ingenue. She'll get to sing a solo, and she sure can't complain the role isn't big enough. I mean, the character's a giant. You can't get much bigger than that.”

Austin wrote down
Cyclops: Sophia Ciancio
, then asked,
“What about Poseidon?”

“Brady!” I said without hesitation, picturing him holding our spray-painted trident and dressed in the gnarly swim trunks he'd been wearing at the pool the day we'd met him. “He can do it as a surfer dude, all laid-back and cool.”

“Works for me.” Austin wrote it down.

As we continued to cast the show, it became clear to Austin, as it had to me earlier, that we didn't have nearly enough actors for all the roles in this show.

“I guess we should have paid closer attention to the character breakdown before we chose this play,” Austin said with a sigh.

“We're going to have to cast a lot of dual roles,” I said. “The tricky part is going to be casting it so kids don't overlap with their own dual character.”

“Right.” Austin turned to a clean page on his pad, then opened the script and began to scan scene after scene, noting which character appeared in each one. Then he began to draw a diagram. To me, it looked like a sort of cross between a flow chart and a family tree.

“Look,” he said. “Cyclops and Circe never appear onstage at the same time. So we can cast Sophia as both Cyclops
and
Circe, the goddess who turns Odysseus's men into pigs. And Telemachus and the six-headed monster Scylla don't overlap
either. How about we cast Spencer as both of them?”

“He'll love it,” I predicted. “Not sure how Maxie's gonna give him five additional noggins, but I'm sure she'll figure it out. Write it down.”

It was like putting together some complex puzzle or solving a crazy brainteaser. We even had to take costume changes into consideration. We gave Brady the role of Antinous, the most arrogant of Penelope's suitors, and the part of Hermes (a speedy god sent by Athena to order Calypso to release Odysseus from her island, Ogygia) went to Elle. In addition to her chorus performance, Mackenzie would play Calypso. We'd have to juggle the members of the Greek chorus in a few scenes and switch out some of the suitors to play Odysseus's soldiers.

“But we're still going to have a hard time putting enough bodies onstage during the suitor scenes,” Austin said. He gave me a sideways look. “Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“We actually recruit more bodies.”

I sighed. “You mean bring in new kids?”

Austin nodded. “How else?”

“I thought of that,” I said. “And I love the idea . . . in theory. But it's too late in the process to start adding new players. We'd have to put out feelers to bring kids in, then
hold another round of auditions. I'm for growing the theater, but right now time is against us.”

“I see what you mean.”

I pondered the issue for a bit, and an idea struck me. “Why don't we just cast the kids we already have?”

“How?” Austin pointed to his flow chart. “We're already stretching everyone pretty thin as it is.”

“I'm not talking about the actors. I'm talking about Maxie and Gina and Brittany and Deon. Even Susan.”

“That's genius,” said Austin. “I mean, they're already going to be around for every rehearsal. Why not let them get a little stage time!”

“Exactly,” I said.

Then he lifted one eyebrow and smiled. “And what about you?”

“Me?”

He nodded.

It wasn't a completely wacky suggestion. After all, the whole idea to form this theater had been born of my two experiences
on
stage. In Hollywood, directors appeared in their own movies all the time. But I was pretty sure it was more unusual (if not downright unheard of) for Broadway directors to perform in their own plays.

“Maybe in the next show,” I said at last. “I'm still trying to
get a handle on this directing thing. And as for the rest of the crew, they'll have to be willing. I won't force them.”

“What are you thinking for Susan?” asked Austin, his eyes twinkling.

“We both know there's really only one role that would do my sister justice. . . .”

I smiled and Austin smiled back as we announced in unison, “Zeus!”

I laughed. “The head honcho of all the gods! Who better?”

“Nobody,” Austin agreed. “She's been rehearsing for this role her whole life!”

He wrote down Susan's name, chuckling.

“Okay,” I said, folding my arms and giving him the same raised eyebrow look he'd given me. “What about you?”

“Wish I could but I can't.”

“You can't? Give me one good reason why not.”

“I'll give you eighty-eight good reasons why not,” he said. “They're called piano keys. Think about it, Anya. If I'm onstage, where will the music come from? Joey can't do it all by himself.”

As much as I would love to see Austin in a role, I couldn't argue with that logic.

Finally we had our cast list. It was a little strange to see
Deon's and Maxie's names there. I felt a momentary twinge of panic, wondering if they might not like the idea.

“They'll do it, won't they?” I asked. “You don't think they'll refuse, do you?”

“I don't think so,” said Austin. “But like you said, we can't force them. The decision is really up to them. All we can do is offer them the parts. After that, the ball's in their court.”

His choice of words had me jumping to my feet, as I suddenly remembered I had someplace to be.

“C'mon!” I cried, grabbing Austin's arm. “D and Maxie aren't the only ones who've got the ball in their court.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked as I dragged him toward the garage to get my bike. “Where are we going?”

I told him.

And suddenly Austin was in an even bigger hurry to get there than I was.

CHAPTER

8

Austin and I got to the tennis courts just as Becky's match was about to begin. The Chappaqua Youth Tennis League was playing their biggest rival, Harrison Parks & Rec.

“Hey, Mezan!” I called, leaning my bicycle up against the fence and waving. Austin propped his bike next to mine and gave Becky a goofy grin.

“Hey!” Becky greeted us with a huge smile. “Glad you guys could make it.”

“Wouldn't miss it,” I said. “Cute skirt.”

“Thanks.” She turned to Austin. “Hi, Austin.”

“Hi, Becky.”

They just stood there grinning, and I noticed that for some reason, both of them suddenly looked like they were new to the planet. Like they'd never held a conversation with an actual human being before.

I was about to break the awkward silence when a whistle blew. The Chappaqua coach waved Becky over.

“I'm up,” said Becky. “Talk to you after the match.”

“Good luck,” said Austin, flashing a terrific smile at Becky.

Becky's response was to do something I'd never heard her do before: giggle. For a minute I thought I was hearing things. In the nine and a half years Becky and I had been best friends, I'd heard her laugh, chuckle, crack up, and even snort soda out of her nose in a fit of hilarity. But I had never once heard her
giggle
. Becky was
not
the giggling type.

At least she didn't used to be.

But Austin looked like he thought that giggle was the best sound he'd ever heard in his life.

We found a place along the fence and settled in to watch. The opponent from Harrison was a blond girl wearing a blindingly white pleated tennis dress, and a terry cloth sweatband around her head.

Becky prepared to serve. She lobbed the ball upward, swung her arm down and around, and sent it flying like a little yellow missile.

“Perfect!” said Austin.

“Out!” yelled the line judge.

“What?” cried Austin, furious. “That was so in!”

It wasn't. It was out by a mile. Which was strange, because
Becky flubbing a serve was as unheard of as Becky giggling. When I saw her eyes dart over to where I was standing, it occurred to me that she was nervous. I couldn't imagine why, since I'd watched her play tennis a zillion times before, and my presence had never flustered her in the least.

It was a moment before I realized her eyes hadn't darted to me. . . . They'd darted to Austin.

Becky took a deep breath, positioned herself behind the line, and tried again.

I was amazed at how graceful she looked; her motions were every bit as choreographed and elegant as any dance steps I'd ever seen Mackenzie execute.

And this time the serve
was
perfect. It sailed at top speed, with a fierce, slightly downward trajectory, landing with a pop against the green-painted concrete. Blondie gave her best effort but missed the ball entirely.

Austin started applauding like mad.

I clapped too, although with slightly less excitement.

Becky served again; this time Blondie ran, pleats flapping, and managed to return it, but Becky was so fast and agile, she was practically a blur. Her backhand was like a lethal weapon. She scored.

Then she scored
again
. She simply could not miss. She seemed to have a knack for directing the ball to wherever
her rival wasn't.

Becky won the first game, and they switched sides. She returned Blondie's first serve like a rocket, scoring easily.

This went on until Becky had thoroughly trounced her opponent. Austin and I cheered, laughing as the Harrison girl offered the winner the requisite good-sportsmanlike handshake while wearing the most unsportsmanlike expression on her face.

Becky came right over to us, grinning broadly. It was hard to tell whether she was smiling because of her victory . . . or because of Austin.

“I guess you were my good luck charm,” she said.

“Happy to help,” Austin replied.

I cleared my throat to remind them I was there. When I had their attention, I congratulated Becky, then took a step toward my bike. “We should get going. We've still got to put the finishing touches on the cast list,” I said.

“Oh, that's right!” said Becky. “So what exactly is your play about?”

I gave her a quick synopsis of the epic adventure—the war, the suitors, the unpredictable nature of mythological bad guys.

“But the real depth of the play comes from Odysseus's longing to be back home,” Austin concluded. “With the ones he loves.”

I gave him an eye roll worthy of Susan's. “Don't you think you're overstating that love stuff a bit? I mean, the real meat of this play is the action.”

“Action?” said Becky, pressing a towel daintily to her damp forehead. “What action?”