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Authors: Jo Whittemore

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BOOK: D Is for Drama
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And as the words rolled off her tongue, she transformed
into Yvaine, the fallen star. Her voice was mesmerizing and there was no shortage of emotion in her words. When she finished, I was sad it had to end.

“Well?” she bounced up on her toes, hands clasped in front of her chest. “What do you think?”

“Honestly,” I said, “I'm surprised
you're
not the lead in
Mary Pops In
instead of Sara.”

Anne Marie beamed and blushed. “Well, Ilana told me I didn't fit the part.” Her blush deepened. “I think she meant it literally.” Anne Marie's hands outlined her round figure and settled on her stomach.

My eyes narrowed. Ilana's cruel judgment was why I'd held the auditions in the first place. I couldn't be like her. I
wouldn't
be like her.

“Ilana's an idiot,” I said. “You're talented and everyone should see it. Welcome aboard.”

Anne Marie's eyes outshone the stage lights. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” She bounded off the stage and shook my hand. “When do we start rehearsals?”

“Uh . . . tomorrow afternoon,” I said, walking her to the exit. “And . . . don't mention this to anyone yet.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I looked into the hall and saw every person who auditioned standing there.

“Crap,” I muttered.

Derek was the first to step forward.

“I'm sorry about my audition,” he said. “I promise stuff like that won't happen if I'm in the play.”

Cole, the boy with the stutter, joined Derek. “M-my mmmom says acting helps m-my speech.”

“I really want this!” shouted Max.

Soon, everyone was talking at once, and I could see in all their faces how badly they wanted to be on that stage.

That afternoon when I posted who'd gotten into my mystery show, I didn't add a few of their names.

I added all of them.

EIGHT

Y
OU'D THINK SUCH A GOOD
deed could only be met with cheers and offers of Chocolate Monkey muffins, but once the news was shouted through the halls, I found myself face-to-face with an angry Ilana.

“You can
not
let those kids in your show,” she said.

It was the end of school and I was putting books in my locker.

“Sorry,” I said, “but I don't think Your Highness rules this section of the land.”

Ilana blocked my locker with her hand. “I'm serious, Sunny. You're affecting
Mary Pops In
with this.”

“How?” I asked with a snort. “Are the cardboard
chimneys getting dirty without the sweeps? No villagers feeding the imaginary pigeons?”

Ilana shook her head emphatically. “Ms. Elliott wants to make both performances into a showcase, with
Mary Pops In
as the closing act. If your . . .
freak
show”—she scowled—“goes first, it could blow everything.”

“That
is
a problem,” I said, reaching into my locker. “But I think you've got bigger worries.”

Ilana blinked in confusion. “Like what?”

I held out a pencil. “Like deciding which nostril you want this lodged in.”

Ilana's face darkened. “Listen here . . .”

“No,
you
listen.” I waved the pencil at her. “I get that you have diva issues no amount of red carpet can fix,” I said, “but if you ever,
ever
call my cast freaks again, you will thoroughly regret it.”

Even though she looked a little scared, Ilana crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. “You can threaten me all you want, but I won't let you ruin
Mary Pops In
.”

“Why do you even
care
?” I asked in exasperation. “It's not like you're in the show.”

Ilana smirked. “No. Of course not,” she said, sauntering away. “Have a good night, Sunny. I'm off to rehearsal.”

I watched her go with a curious stare. The only reason
she'd be at rehearsals was if she was in the show. But that couldn't happen unless . . .

I slammed my locker shut and hurried to Chase's. He was still there, hanging with friends before rehearsal. When he saw me, he offered a tentative smile.

“Hey, S—”

“Ilana,” I cut him off. “Is she in the show?”

His very wise friends decided this was the time to leave.

“Good luck, bro,” one of them said.

“She is, isn't she?” I asked.

My stomach lurched into my throat, and Chase reached for my arm, squeezing it.

“I wasn't sure how to tell you,” he said. “Sara's dad got orders to transfer, so they're moving in a few months. Ms. Elliott took her out and replaced her with Ilana.”

I swallowed hard. “Which means Ilana gets to be Mary Poppins, the part she wanted all along.”

Chase held up a hand. “Don't read too much into this.”

I gave him a disgusted look. “Ilana volunteers for the selection committee and just
happens
to get the understudy role for Mary Poppins who just
happens
to be moving in a few months. And I'm not supposed to read anything into it?”

“Sunny . . .”

I jerked my arm out of his hand. “And why are you defending her, anyway? Is she your girlfriend now?”

“What?” Chase blinked and recoiled in confusion. I couldn't blame him. I had no idea where
that
jealousy came from.

“I mean . . .” I struggled for words. “I don't care. I just thought you'd have better taste.”

Chase's neck and face colored to match his hair. “Says the girl holding hands with the school bully.”

“Holding ha—?” I scowled. “We were making a pinky swear, Chase!”

“Yeah, well, you've never done that with any of your other guy friends,” he shot back.


Fine
.” I grabbed his wrist and hooked his pinky with mine. “I
swear
you are getting on my nerves!”

I wrestled my pinky free and turned away, but Chase took my hand.

“Sunny, wait. I don't want to fight anymore,” he said. “We're supposed to be best friends.”

I regarded him silently, taking in the hopeful smile he offered, and let out a deep sigh.

“You're right,” I said, turning toward him. His hand was still on mine, and when I moved, my fingers accidentally slipped between his.

We were holding hands
. It was only a matter of time before he realized it too, and freaked out.

“Uh . . .” I quickly let go and clutched my hands behind my back. “So, truce?”

“Truce,” he said. “And I'm sorry for being harsh last night. It's cool that you got your own show. You'll make it awesome, I know it.”

I forgot all about being embarrassed. “Awww . . . really?”

“Yes, really,” he said, stepping closer.

I wanted to tell him about my mom and the agent, but my brain was turning to mush. Chase and I had stood shoulder to shoulder plenty of times but never face-to-face. My stomach was an Olympic gymnast, flipping and jumping and twirling little ribbons.

Chase was near enough now that I could see all the details of his nose and cheeks.

“You've got more freckles than usual,” I said, touching one.

The muscles of his cheek moved under my fingers as he smiled even wider. “You've been counting? It's from all the sun at baseball practice.”

“You should tell your dad that
sensible
young men wear sunscreen,” I said in mock seriousness.

“Ha ha.” Chase squeezed my fingers. “Look, sorry to give bad news and run, but I need to get to rehearsal. Can we talk later?”

I nodded. “Have fun with your . . . uh . . . girlfriend,” I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Chase laughed. “She's not my girlfriend,” he said.

“Whatever,” I said with a casual shrug. “Kiss her, don't kiss her . . .” I paused. “
Don't
kiss her.”

He laughed again. “Good-
bye
, Sunny.”

We parted ways, and I headed back to my locker. Despite the bad news of Ilana as Mary Poppins, making up with Chase made me feel worlds better. He was right—my show
was
going to be awesome, and by the end of it, I'd have an agent!

BREE HAD PROMISED
to meet me at my house after school, but when I rounded the block I saw both her
and
Stefan waiting on the porch. Since I'd gone against his advice and accepted everyone, I steeled myself for what was coming.

“Sunny!” Bree hurried down the sidewalk to meet me. “We've got great news.”

I looked at Stefan, who was smiling just as widely.


Both
of you?” I asked warily. “If this is a trap, I know martial arts.”

“Oh, Sunny.” Stefan guided me onto the porch. “I've seen you try to kick a soccer ball and miss. You don't have the skill for martial arts.”

“Fine,” I said. “But you're not mad about auditions?”

He shrugged. “I wasn't thrilled when I heard your decision, but I know you've got the best intentions. And I can't argue with a good deed.”

I could practically feel the halo encircling my head.

“Well,” I said demurely, “I do what I can for the little people.”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “All right, Saint Sunny. Let's talk about your production.”

Bree stepped forward with something hidden behind her back. “We thought we could do a play that shows people you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.”

My eyes widened. “I love that idea! What play?”

Bree and Stefan grinned at each other, and she whipped out the book. “Ta-da!”

“Ohhh. Neat,” I said, my enthusiasm waning.

There was no way I couldn't judge this book by its cover. It had a pig on it.

Bree's face fell. “You don't like it.”

I took the book from her. “No, no! I love
Charlotte's
Web
. I was just hoping for something more . . .
glamorous
than precooked bacon.”

“You don't have to be Wilbur,” tried Stefan. “You could be Charlotte.”

“The spider? I can't spin a web with my butt.” I held up a finger. “But it would be an awesome skill for my bio.”

Bree held up a script. “How about
Willy Wonka
?”

“How about diabetes?” I countered. “That's what we'll get from eating so much candy.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Bree's face, and Stefan put a hand on her shoulder.

“Sunny, clearly you have something specific in mind.”

He was right. I needed the agent to see the show and think “star material,” not “meat is murder.”

Bree held out a couple other scripts and books, but they weren't quite right. Too sad, too silly . . . one of them required me to saw a lady in half.

And then I found it.

The book had two women on the front cover. The one on the left wore a smirk on her green face as the one on the right whispered into her ear. Across the top of the book was the title “Wicked.”

I gasped and held it up. “This is perfect!”

Wicked
was the story of Elphaba, who later became Oz's Wicked Witch of the West, and her misunderstood school years with Galinda (aka Glinda), Good Witch of the North.

A show about a green-skinned girl facing prejudices mirrored what I was going through, what we were
all
going through, with Ilana. And even better, it was famous in the theater community.

I beamed at Stefan and Bree. “What do you think?”

Bree shuffled back and forth, as if she wanted to be excited but couldn't quite get there. “It's kind of long, isn't it?”

“We could trim it down,” said Stefan, staring at the cover. “I'm sure the script is online somewhere.” He glanced at me. “And for casting . . .”

“I'm Elphaba!” I raised my hand like I was in school.

“Wrong,” he said. “You're Galinda.”

I lowered my arm. “But . . . Elphaba's more like me.”

“Then you're missing the point,” said Stefan.

I frowned. “Huh?”

“Ilana says your looks don't match a famous character,” said Stefan. “You need to prove that you can be the bubbly blond Galinda just the same as any white girl.”

I grabbed him by the arm. “Of course!”

Bree finally clapped, startling Stefan and me. “Let's do this!”

We hurried upstairs to print out the script and spent the next couple hours arguing and assigning every role. Anne Marie had the voice and presence to play Elphaba, Suresh had the attitude for Fiyero, the lead male, Bree would make a good Nessa (Elphaba's sister) and Derek could be Boq, a supporting male.

The remaining people ended up with smaller roles, but I knew they wouldn't mind. They'd get more speaking parts and stage time than they'd ever had before.

“I can't wait for rehearsals!” I said as we assigned the last part. “Don't forget, we start tomorrow.”

Stefan smiled apologetically. “I'd love to, but I've got my own performance.” He slung his bag over one shoulder. “We had
Pride and Prejudice
tryouts, and I'm Mr. Darcy.”

I clapped a hand to my forehead. “I forgot you were auditioning too! Congratulations!” I hugged him, partly because I was happy but also because I didn't want him to see the worried look on my face.

With Stefan in the lead role of his play, he wouldn't have time to help with mine. I'd heard horror stories from Ilana about the rigorous schedule CAA kept, and I knew that with only six weeks, my time was even shorter.

“You'll be fine,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Finish cutting the script tonight, make copies, and distribute them tomorrow for a table read. Have everyone study over the weekend.”

BOOK: D Is for Drama
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