Act 2 (Jack & Louisa) (3 page)

“So,” Connor said as he folded his hands on the table. “What have you seen this trip?”

“Oh, well, last night we saw
Let’s Make a Toast!
” I said.

“Hmm,” Imani said, nodding. “What did you think?”

“Omigosh, it was amazing!” Lou replied. “I think Madeleine Zimmer is my new idol.”

“She was perfectly cast,” Connor agreed. “I
did
feel like she was a little
handsy
with her acting, though. I kind of wanted her to just stand still and sing.”

I nodded, although I hadn’t really noticed. To be honest, I had been so excited to be back in a Broadway theater, I could hardly begin to think about anyone’s acting technique.

“But don’t get me wrong,” Connor continued, “she’s an actual goddess.”

I looked over to Lou, who smiled politely.

“So what else are you seeing?” he continued.

“We’re going to see
Megaphone
tonight,” I said.

“Aw, it’s super fun.” Imani smiled. “I’ll be interested to see what you think about the choreography.”

“Yeah,” Connor murmured, rubbing the ends of his chopsticks together, causing tiny particles of wood dust to sprinkle onto his lap. “I have to say, I liked it more off-Broadway. I think it loses the
immersive
,
environmental
quality in that big house.”

I nodded meaningfully, hoping it looked like I had any idea what he was talking about.

“Are you going to be able to see
Molly Coddle
at Threshold Arts?” Imani asked, looking over to Lou.

“No . . . I don’t think so,” she mumbled.

“Oh, you should try and see it if you have time,” Imani pushed on. “It’s playing in their black box space until the end of the month and is a must-see. Also, Forrest Donovan is in it. He is
beyond
.”

“He’s so cute,” Connor added.

“Oh!” Lou laughed nervously.

While we talked about almost everything, Lou
and I were still not in the place where we were comfortable discussing our crushes.

“Well you have to see it,” Imani continued. “That and
The Big Apple
were my favorite sho—” Her lips froze in an
o
as everyone’s eyes darted across the table to me. Suddenly the restaurant seemed to fall dead silent. The tinkling of soup spoons and water glasses halted. You could practically hear a chopstick drop.

“Where’s our food?” Connor finally blurted out, twisting his head to the sushi bar, trying to get the attention of the ancient man stacking pink hunks of fish.

“That and
The Big Apple
were what?” I asked tentatively.

“Um, nothing,” Imani said, fiddling with the row of skinny bracelets on her wrist. “I mean, it was . . . cute.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, slowly turning back to us. “Really nice . . . sets, I guess. The way they do the subway effect is kind of . . . neat.” They both shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. “To be honest, they could have done without an intermission,” he began to ramble. “The second act was ten to fifteen minutes too long, if you ask me, and the—”

“Guys, it’s okay,” I said, cutting him off. “You’re allowed to like
The Big Apple.
In fact,” I said, straightening my back, “I’m totally over the whole thing. I hope
everyone
thinks it’s amazing.”

I tried to sound as confident as Imani and Connor. I don’t think anyone believed me.

“Speaking of amazing,” Imani said, hurrying to change the subject. “How was
Into The Woods
? Those pictures you texted us were adorable.”

I looked over at Lou. With all this talk of edgy new theater, our little musical seemed rather small.

“It was great,” she said tentatively.

I knew Lou was probably thinking the same thing as me.

“I’m so jealous,” Imani said to Lou. “Little Red is my number one dream role.”

“How was your Witch?” Connor snorted. “That’s
my
number one dream role.”

“Such a diva,” I replied. “You’d love her.”

“Well, you guys would have been really proud,” Lou chimed in. “Jack was pretty incredible.”

Connor and Imani both tilted their heads and made little “awww” sounds.

“And, Connor, you would have totally approved,” Lou said smartly. “There was a real . . .
stillness
to
his work. Definitely not
hands-y
at all.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed as I bit the inside of my cheek. He was unreadable for a moment, but then a smirk began to form on his face.

“Ohhh,
toss
,
toss
,” Connor said, flipping imaginary hair off his shoulders like Glinda in
Wicked
.

We all burst out laughing.

“I like this one,” he said, pointing a chopstick at Lou. “You sure you don’t want to stay in New York? I collect sassy friends.”

After every sip of tea had been slurped and every grain of rice devoured, we bundled up and clenched our teeth, stepping back into the polar chill of midtown. We trudged down the block to Schmackary’s Cookies, where that week Broadway actors had swapped roles with the waitstaff to raise money for charity. Today the cast of
Aladdin
was serving up sweet treats. We snapped a few pictures, dropped some dollars in their bucket, and scooted up to a table. The smell of sugar cookies and peanut butter brownies wafted through the air as we sat giggling, Lou and Connor trading wisecracks.

“I’d order the red velvet,” Lou whined in a cockney accent (her best attempt at Mrs. Lovett from
Sweeney Todd
), “but I fear they might be . . .
crummy.
”

“Let’s be honest,” Connor said with a chuckle, dipping his Schmacker-doodle into a glass of milk, “
this
is the only time you’ll catch me
dunking
.”

I laughed out loud, watching my two worlds collide in such a delicious way.

“So what’s next for you?” Imani leaned in as Connor and Lou continued their pun game. “Any projects coming up in the new year?”

Projects
, I thought, committing the word to memory. That did sound way more sophisticated than
shows
.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, blowing into my hot chocolate. “Our school is doing
Guys and Dolls
, but to be honest, it might be kind of stupid.”

Hearing the words
Guys and Dolls
, Lou halted her conversation.

“Well, not stupid,” I backtracked. “It’s just our director, Mrs. Wagner, is kind of lame. Last semester she spent more time talking about her upcoming ski trip than she did rehearsing our holiday concert.”

“I thought you loved
Guys and Dolls
,” Lou said somewhat accusingly.

“No, I mean, it’s a classic,” I said, shrugging. “I just feel like every theater in America does that show. It’s kind of old-timey, you know?” Connor and Imani nodded in agreement. “I just wish it was a little more . . .
trendy
.”

“Maybe you could all play your own instruments,” Connor said deadpan. “Or have the guys play the dolls and the dolls play the guys.”

Imani rolled her eyes. “Let’s talk about casting. Jack, who would you want to play? Nathan Detroit or Sky Masterson?”

“Are you kidding?” Connor snorted. “Could you imagine our little Jacky crooning and being all serious? He’s obviously a Nathan.”

While I happened to agree, was it that obvious that I wasn’t “leading man” material?

“Well, what about you?” Imani said, looking over at Lou. “Who are you auditioning for? Adelaide or Sarah Brown?”

“Oh, definitely Adelaide,” Lou said. “She’s, like, in the top three best roles for girls in musical theater.”

Lou was right. She’d be the perfect Adelaide.
Not only would she get a ton of laugh lines but she’d also get to belt the big Act 1 showstopper.

Back on the street we said our good-byes. Imani had a jazz-funk class to catch at Broadway Dance Center just up the block, and Connor had dinner at his stepdad’s on the Upper East Side.

“It was so nice seeing you,” we said through scarf-muffled hugs.

“Enjoy Shaker Heights!” Imani exclaimed.

“Right,” I groaned. “We’ll try.”

“I’m serious,” Imani said, giving my shoulder a little punch. “Not gonna lie, I’m a little bit jealous. I miss my old house in Michigan.”

“Yeah, you guys are so lucky,” Connor huffed, “I bet it looks
gorge
in Ohio around the holidays. When it snows here, it goes from
White Christmas
to
Les Miz
in like five minutes
.
”

Lou and I waved good-bye, smiling as we watched our friends walk down the salt-sprinkled pavement. I inhaled deeply, taking in the cold December air and smells of cinnamon sugar nut cart vendors. As we began our walk to the C train, a sense of relief washed over me. My
friend mixer had been a success. Looking around the bustling streets, a warm feeling began to grow in my chest. While the noisy and crowded sidewalks were something real New Yorkers always complained about, where else in the world could you see anything like it? Watching Lou gawk at every horse-drawn carriage and street cartoonist reminded me how lucky I was to grow up in a place like this.
One day we’ll live here for good
, I thought,
even if it feels like a million calendars away.

As the light changed I opened my mouth to speak but was stopped dead in my tracks. Walking up the subway stairs across the street, chatting with his mom, was the last person on earth I wanted to see: the person who made that warm feeling in my chest turn cold; the person who made me unable to feel anything but overwhelming jealousy. It was Corey Taylor, the kid who replaced me in
The Big
Apple
.

-LOUISA-

I was replaying our afternoon with Jack’s friends in my head as we approached the corner of 44th Street and Eighth Avenue—Connor’s sassy humor, Imani’s smarts and style, and the way I went from feeling totally intimidated by them at first to feeling like we’d been lifelong friends by the time we got to Schmackary’s—when Jack suddenly stopped short, causing a young woman to bump into us.

“Ugh,
excuse
me,” she muttered, shimmying past us in her black yoga pants and puffy coat.

Jack was so fixated on something across the street that I stopped thinking about his super-cool
theater friends and grabbed his elbow to steer him toward the curb, away from the middle of the sidewalk.

“Jack,” I said, “what are you looking at?”

I followed his gaze across 44th Street toward the subway entrance. A young boy and a woman who looked like his mother were waiting for the light to change, meaning that in just a few moments they would be on our side of the street.

Jack spoke out of the corner of his mouth, keeping his eyes on the mother-son pair.

“That’s Corey Taylor,” he said quietly, his jaw tensing. “That’s the kid who took over my part in
The Big Apple.
”

My reaction must have been a little too obvious because Jack pinched my hand and hissed, ”Play it cool, Lou. They see us.”

And sure enough, here they came, both smiling a little too brightly on this overcast December day. I did my best to wear my meeting-new-people face, instead of my you-stole-something-precious-from-my-best-friend face.

“Well, hello there,
Jack
!” exclaimed Corey’s mom. “What a
surprise
! We didn’t know you were in town!”

Why would you?
I thought, looking at the two of them and wondering just how uncomfortable Jack was feeling.
You think you’re the first people Jack’s going to call when he plans a visit?

“Well, it was really last-minute,” Jack fibbed, smiling politely. “My parents’ friends suggested we come for New Year’s and stay in their apartment since they’re in Puerto Rico.”

“Cool!” chirped Corey, nodding vigorously. While I remembered Jack telling me at one point that the kid who replaced him was ten years old, in person he looked even younger—like eight. He had that scrubbed look of a kid in a Toaster Strudel commercial—big, round eyes, perfect haircut, rosy cheeks. The way he said “Cool!” made me think he’d said it on camera (perhaps in a Toaster Strudel commercial).

My inspection of Corey was interrupted by his mom’s hand jutting toward me.

“
Hi
, I’m Carol
Taylor
, and this is my son
Corey
.”

She had this bizarre way of emphasizing certain words.

“Hi,” I said, shaking Carol’s hand and nodding toward Corey, who gave me a little wave, “I’m Louisa, but everybody calls me Lou.” For some
reason I was okay telling her my nickname. Maybe because she didn’t intimidate me at all; I think she annoyed me.

“
So
nice to meet you,” said Carol. “Are you visiting as
well
?”

“Yeah, I live in Shaker Heights, too,” I said. “Jack and I go to the same school.”

I looked over at Jack, who was now biting the inside of his lip.

“Cool!” Corey chirped again.

“How nice that you
both
get to be in
New York
at this time of year,” said Carol. She placed a hand on top of Corey’s head.

“We haven’t had much of a chance to celebrate the holidays, what with this guy’s
show
schedule.” She tousled his hair, but then immediately smoothed it back into place.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” mumbled Jack, nodding but not really making eye contact with anyone.

“Of course,” Carol answered emphatically, “you know all about Broadway holiday schedules, you old
pro
, you.”

Jack replied with a tight-lipped smile.

“Will you guys have tomorrow off, at least?” I asked, sensing that Jack wasn’t going
to bring much to the conversation.

“No!” Corey howled, rolling his eyes cartoonishly. “Can you believe it? New Year’s Eve and we have to
work
!”

“But of course we’re
grateful
, aren’t we, Corey?” Carol added quickly. “We don’t
ever
want to take the job for
granted
.”

“Right!” Corey bleated. “Totally!”

Jack started to shift his feet, making me think he was about to get us out of this awkward situation, when Carol suddenly inhaled sharply.

“Wait a second!”
She held up her hands dramatically, like she was putting on the brakes to an exciting conversation that no one was actually having.

“We have
two
tickets to tomorrow’s matinee that we were going to give to Corey’s cousins, but they
both
came down with strep two days ago and are
highly
contagious.”

“Yeah, so gross!” Corey yipped in confirmation.

“Would you and Louisa like to use the tickets
instead
?”

I knew I was in no position to answer that question, so I looked over at Jack, who pursed his
lips and opened his eyes wide. After a short pause, he spoke.

“That . . . would be amazing,” he replied so convincingly that I started to think I’d misread his body language up to that point. He looked over at me expectantly.

“Whaddya say, Lou? You wanna go?”

I looked back at Carol and Corey, who wore the expressions of game-show contestants waiting to find out if they’ve given the correct answer.

“I . . . would love to!” I said enthusiastically. “Thanks so much!”

Carol and Corey demonstrated their excitement with simultaneous bouncing.

“How
wonderful
!” Carol gushed.

“Yeah,” said Jack, “thanks, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Call me Carol,
please
!”

“Thanks . . . Carol.”

Corey suddenly stretched out his arms and moved toward Jack. The next thing I knew he was hugging him tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re coming!”

Carol placed a hand on her chest, clearly moved by her perfect son’s gesture of affection.

“You have
no
idea, Jack,” Carol said, beaming,
“how much Corey looks up to you. You’re pretty much
the
reason we got into this business in the first place.”

I looked at Corey, who, though still smiling, now looked a little embarrassed. Jack gave a nervous laugh.

“Wow,” was all he could muster.

“Yep,” Carol continued, “it was seeing you in
Mary Poppins
that did it for him. ’Member, Cor?” She lifted up her son’s chin to face her.

“You turned to me at intermission and said, ‘Mom, I want to be like
that
boy up there.’”

“Yeah, I did,” Corey said, softly. His voice had dipped below screech level for the first time in the conversation. It was actually kind of sweet. He and his mom had come on so strong at first, but now I realized it was because they were genuinely excited to see Jack and wanted to impress him. They were suddenly less annoying.

“You
know
,” Carol said, looking at me, “everyone was
so
disappointed when Jack couldn’t come out a couple months ago to be the vacation swing. Especially since he’d helped create the show from the beginning—”

“Yeah, that was too bad,” Jack interrupted, a
sudden urgency in his voice, “but at least now I’ll finally get to see the show!”

“That’s
right
!” Carol said, grabbing Corey’s hand and flashing us one last smile.

“All right, well—see you
tomorrow
! Happy New Year,
almost
!”

Jack and I grinned and waved good-bye as the two of them disappeared into the throng of pedestrians maneuvering up and down Eighth Avenue.

Once they were out of sight, I turned to Jack, desperate to get his take on the last two minutes.

“That was kind of crazy, huh?” I asked, nudging his shoulder. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if you were going to say yes to those tickets. But you clearly made their day when you did.” Jack gave a halfhearted laugh.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jack said, crouching down to retie his bootlaces.

“You know, even though they’re a little intense, Carol and Corey obviously think you’re, like, the best thing ever. It’s kinda cute how much of a star you are to them.”

“It’s adorable,” Jack replied sarcastically as he stood back up. “Let’s get going; it’s cold.” He leaned
into the wind and marched quickly toward the corner.

“Whoa, slow down!” I called out, skip-walking to keep up with him as he dodged pedestrians like a character in a video game.

“Sorry,” he called back over his shoulder as he crossed 44th Street, “it’s just we should probably hurry if we want to eat dinner before we see
Megaphone
.”

Didn’t we just have lunch?
I thought, searching my pockets for my MetroCard as Jack disappeared down the stairs leading to the subway. It seemed like catching the train was suddenly the most important thing he’d ever done. It also seemed like he was trying to get away from me—which was weird, since we were basically stuck with each other.

“Hey—are you okay?” I asked, catching up with him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Totally,” said Jack, now rushing toward the turnstiles.

We swiped our MetroCards and raced toward the signs for the uptown C train.

“Are you sure?” I gasped, out of breath from practically chasing my friend down to the subway platform. “You don’t
seem
okay—”

Jack turned abruptly to face me, wearing an expression I couldn’t quite read. He was smiling, sort of, but his eyes were not.

“Hey, can we not talk for a while?”

Jack had never asked me to stop talking, and I was instantly embarrassed.

“Oh. Sure.”

I must have looked a little stung, because Jack’s face softened.

“Sorry, it’s just . . . I’m really tired. I kinda want to be quiet for a bit, if that’s all right.”

“Yeah. Totally.”

We waited for the train for five minutes, then rode all the way to 81st Street in complete silence, tense and uneasy. I figured I’d done something wrong. But what?

“Hey there!” Mrs. Goodrich greeted us as we arrived back at the apartment. “Your father is getting stuff for dinner at Fairway,” she said, helping us hang up our bags, hats, and scarves. “I had a craving for their pumpkin ravioli. It cooks up really fast, so we’ll be able to eat and get to
Megaphone
in plenty of time.”

I looked to Jack, hoping this culinary news would brighten his mood, but he was concentrating intensely on untying his boots. Mrs. Goodrich didn’t notice that her son was out of sorts as she continued, “So . . . I hear you two are seeing
The Big Apple
tomorrow?”

Not surprisingly, an already tense Jack grew tenser.

News travels fast in this city
, I thought.

“How did you hear—” he began, kicking off a remaining boot.

“I just got a call from Carol Taylor,” Mrs. Goodrich explained. “She said she ran into you guys and offered you tickets to tomorrow’s matinee, but that she forgot to tell you they’ll be held at the box office under Corey’s name. Boy, do they love you! She said you were Corey’s
idol
.”

She was regarding Jack with a mix of curiosity and surprise. Attending a matinee performance of
The Big Apple
was certainly not an event she’d been expecting in our itinerary, either. Jack started to bite the inside of his lip again.

“Jack,” I began carefully, “are you . . . are you
sure
you’re okay about seeing the show tomorrow?”

He looked at me, took a deep breath, and
said, “I’ve decided I’m not going to see the show tomorrow.”

I blinked rapidly. Mrs. Goodrich looked uneasy.

“You’re not?” she asked tentatively.

“No.”

“But . . . you told them you’d take the tickets.”

“You and Lou can go together,” Jack suggested, his tone measured and deliberate. “I don’t need to see
The Big Apple.
I mean, if I were a vacation swing, that would be different, but I don’t want to just sit there as an audience member and have that be the only reason I’m there.”