Jack & Louisa: Act 1 (9 page)

–LOUISA–

I had no clue who Davina was, but she must have been important enough for Jack’s mom to walk down the street to tell him about her voice mail. Once I got to my room, I texted Jack: “Davina?! Can’t wait to hear what
that’s
about!”

Then I called Jenny. She answered on the first ring.

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” she said meaningfully, “I should have chosen a more private place to be mad at you. I didn’t think about how close Tanner’s desk is to ours.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, “Jack wasn’t going to be able to keep his secret forever, and even though Tanner was a jerk about it at first—”

“It kind of ended up being awesome,” Jenny interrupted. “I mean, you were no joke, standing up to him the way you did.”

“Yeah, you, too,” I said. “We were kind of brave.”

“‘Kind of’? C’mon, we totally rocked! We just gave the biggest bully a royal smackdown in front of the whole class.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Tanner’s confused and slack-jawed reaction when I told him about Jack’s Broadway salary.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, too,” I said, remembering that offering Jenny an apology was the reason I’d called her. “I know we haven’t hung out in a while. But I don’t have rehearsal tomorrow, so—you wanna come over?”

Jenny never let herself get too excited about anything, which was how I knew she’d missed me because she squealed “Sure!” into the phone.

“Cool,” I said. “I’ll check with my parents, but I’m sure you can come over whenever you want.”

We said good-bye, and I instantly felt an overwhelming sense of calm. While it was certainly comforting to know that Jenny was no longer mad at me, the thing I was most relieved about was that Jack didn’t have to hide anymore. The two versions of Jack Goodrich could finally blend into one. We’d be able to talk about rehearsals at school now, and invite our classmates to see the show, and we wouldn’t have to worry about how they’d react. Plus he’d called me a “cool girl,” which, I have to admit, made me feel pretty great. I decided that some celebratory music was in order, and within minutes I was dancing like a fool, the cast album of
Kinky Boots
blasting from my speakers:
“Say yea-ea-ea-ea-eah! Ye-ea-ea-ea-eah!”
Yeah, indeed.

• • •

A few hours later, as I was finishing dinner, I checked my phone and realized that Jack had never texted me back. When I stepped onto our driveway at 6:45, he wasn’t standing by our car. I dialed his number on my cell phone. After several rings, he picked up.

“Hey, slowpoke, we gotta go,” I said, peering down the street to see if he was on his way.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Jack said, sounding distracted, “I was about to call you. My mom’s gonna drive me tonight, actually.”

Something in his voice made me nervous, but I decided to ignore it for the moment.

“Oh okay,” I replied. “How come?”

“She has a couple errands to run, so . . .”

He didn’t finish his sentence. I waited a moment, then realized he was waiting for me to speak.

“Okay!” I said, forcing a friendly tone. “I’ll see you there, then!”

• • •

In the car, Dad must have sensed something was wrong, because he asked, gently, “Did you and Jack have a fight?”

“No,” I said, thinking
We had, like, the opposite of a fight.

“Do you need me to pick you up after rehearsal?” he asked. “Or do you think Jack’s mom will give you a ride as usual?”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Y’know what?” Dad said. “Why don’t you just text me later? Let me know what you need me to do.”

“Okay,” I said, as he pulled into St. Joseph’s parking lot.

I was anxious to go inside, but also hopeful that once Jack and I were in the same room again, chatting it up with our castmates, my concerns would be put to rest.

But Jack wasn’t there when I arrived, so I had to make the social rounds by myself. I asked Wayne about his candles, and he responded with, “Where’s your partner in crime?” Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz each gave me a hug, but not without asking, “Where’s Tweedledum?” And Simon, instead of grabbing Sarah to keep her from asking for my autograph, simply said, “Wait—where’s the other one?” As my cast’s inquiries persisted, I grew increasingly uncomfortable. Jack’s mom was just as punctual as my parents. Not only that, but Jack had told me that being late for rehearsal on Broadway could get you in a lot of trouble, and because of that he was always in the habit of arriving early.
So where the heck was he?

Finally, as Angela called everyone to attention at 7:03 p.m. (I knew this because I kept checking my phone), Jack appeared in the doorway. I raised my hand to wave him over to where I was sitting, but he didn’t even look in my direction. Instead, he remained in the doorway for a while, long enough to make it seem like he was deciding whether to even enter the room. Eventually he did enter, but with a weird hesitation, like a guy walking into an empty girls’ restroom. I kept my eyes fixed on Jack as Renee detailed the order of scenes we’d be working on that evening, troubled by his vacant stare toward the floor. My stomach did a little jump when Renee said we’d be reviewing a scene between Little Red and Jack. Normally, I’d be excited for the two of us to work together, but given the dark cloud that seemed to be hovering over his head, I was less than eager. Nevertheless, I went straight over to Jack as soon as Renee was finished talking, hoping I could fix whatever was bothering him while Angela set up the room for the first scene.

“Hey, there,” I chirped as I approached his chair.

Jack glanced up at me, then looked back down at the floor, which seemed to have a magnetic pull on his gaze.

“You want to run lines before we work on our scene?” I offered.

“No, I’m good with the lines,” he mumbled, not looking up.

I took a deep breath and tried again.

“You missed the new candle scents,” I said, sitting in the chair next to his. “Wayne and I didn’t want to play without you, but we still came up with a couple good ones. Leftover Chinese Food, Morning Breath . . .”

Jack abruptly got up from his chair. “I should get some water before we start.”

My heart sank. Jack walking away from me mid-sentence was all the confirmation I needed that something was wrong. What made it worse, though, was my growing suspicion that I had something to do with it. But
what
? Had I said something to hurt his feelings? How was that possible, considering the day we’d just spent together? I racked my brain for clues. Only hours earlier we’d been a pair of heroes, standing up to the scariest kid in class. We’d felt triumphant and relieved on the bus ride home, he’d thanked me on my doorstep, and then we hugged . . .

Oh no.
The hug
. I had just meant it to be friendly, but maybe it had lasted a second too long; maybe I’d hugged him a little too tight. As I felt the blood rush to my face, another memory flash sent my head spinning: Mrs. Goodrich’s voice, calling from the sidewalk, “
Davina left a voice mail that I think you’re gonna want to listen to.”
It didn’t occur to me when I texted Jack, “Davina?! Can’t wait to hear what THAT’s about!” that Davina might be his—gulp—
girlfriend.
A girlfriend in New York, whose voice-mail messages were obviously important. A fancy New York girlfriend who was probably on Broadway and would not want her boyfriend hugging a girl whose most impressive acting credit was a local commercial for A. J. Heil Florist. That would certainly explain why Jack would be freaked out, especially if he thought the intention behind my hug was—double gulp—
romantic
. (It wasn’t romantic; it really was just a friendly hug. Like how I hugged Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz, but with less crumbs.) I watched for a moment as Jack filled up his water bottle across the room, then I turned away, mortified. I had to figure out a way to explain myself to him without making things even more awkward between us, but this was not the time or place. I would just have to wait out the next three hours.

• • •

The next three hours felt more like three years.

Jack and I avoided each other the entire time, except for when we had to do our scene, in which Jack shows Little Red the golden-egg-laying hen. Little Red tells Jack that she doesn’t believe he could steal the golden harp from the giant’s kingdom, and she challenges him:

Little Red Riding Hood: Why don’t you go up to the kingdom right now and bring it back and show me?

Jack: I could.

Little Red Riding Hood: You could not!

Jack: I could!

Little Red Riding Hood: You could not, Mr. Liar!

• • •

After our first pass at the scene, I knew it had gone terribly, even before Renee pulled both of us aside for a private discussion.

“Louisa,” she said, consulting the notes on her iPad, “I really like how committed you are to Little Red’s skepticism, but I felt like this time through you were actually a little too aggressive toward Jack. It’s okay to challenge him, but you don’t want to scare him.”
Too late
, I thought. There was so much nervous adrenaline coursing through my veins that I’d practically screamed all my lines.

“And, Jack,” Renee continued, “you seemed sort of passive. I think in this scene it’s important to you that Little Red not only believe you, but respect you.” Renee looked down at her iPad. “And you want her to like you.” Jack just nodded silently, looking down at his beloved floor. I wanted to vomit.

When ten o’clock finally arrived, I realized with a sense of dread that I’d forgotten to text my dad about whether I’d need a ride home. As I collected my bag and script, trying to decide what to do, I heard Jack’s tentative voice behind me.

“You need a ride, right?”

• • •

Mrs. Goodrich must have known something was up, because she was extra chatty as she drove us home, talking about the wallpaper she’d uncovered while repainting their bathroom, wondering aloud why the street lamps in our subdivision turned on so early (“Seems like a waste of energy”), asking me what garden-supply store my mom liked best. She filled the time impressively, making it easy for me and Jack not to speak to each other.

But as we turned onto our street, I felt a surge of courage. “You don’t need to drop me off, Mrs. Goodrich,” I said, “I can just walk from your house.”

“You sure?” Mrs. Goodrich asked, looking at me, then at Jack, in her rearview mirror.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said, rehearsing in my head what I was about to say to my friend. I could sense Jack tensing beside me.
Better to get this over with
, I thought,
otherwise it’ll just get worse.

Mrs. Goodrich pulled into their driveway and hastily went inside, leaving me and Jack alone. I suddenly realized that so many of our uncomfortable conversations had taken place on or near this driveway that we should put a sign out: “Awkward Spot.” Jack turned to follow his mom.

“I don’t want to be your girlfriend!” I blurted out. In my head it had sounded different, way less silly.

Jack turned back around, looking at me like I’d just announced I was from outer space.

“What?”

“I only hugged you because I was happy for you; I was happy that you didn’t have to lie about who you were or what you were doing. I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble with Davina, or steal you away from her, or anything like that. I mean, I like you, but I don’t have a
crush
on you.”

My words hung in the air like dust particles. I wished for a strong wind to blow them, and me, away.

After a painfully long pause, Jack finally spoke.

“Davina’s my
agent
,”
he said softly.

“Oh.” I felt relieved and humiliated all at the same time. Davina
did
seem like a more appropriate name for an agent.

“And I never thought you wanted to be my girlfriend,” Jack continued. “I didn’t think the hug was a big deal.” I wondered why he wasn’t laughing by now, because the whole situation was feeling pretty ridiculous. But instead of laughing, Jack just looked miserable.

“So, then . . . what’s
wrong
?”

Far off an ambulance siren whined, interrupting the awful silence that followed my question.

–JACK–

“The producers of
The Big Apple
called to see if I could come in for a few weeks.”

Lou froze, her feet halting their nervous shuffle.

“I’d be a vacation swing.”

“A what?” Lou shot back quickly.

“It’s a person who comes into the company but just for a little bit. I’d get to understudy Hudson, the role I was supposed to play.”

She stared at me blankly, her lips quivering, failing to form words. I took her silence for confusion and decided to keep explaining.

“One of his understudies is out with mono, and the only other person who knows the role is about to go to his brother’s wedding in San Diego. They want me to come in and be, like, the standby.”

“So . . . you would be doing . . . what?” Lou’s words slowly emerged from her mouth.

“Well, mostly watching the show or listening backstage on the monitor, you know, learning the part in case anything happened and I’d have to go on.”

“So you wouldn’t even be . . .
performing
?” Her voice flicked with an unexpected sting.

“Maybe I would.” I shrugged, realizing this wasn’t unfolding the way I’d hoped. “It would all depend. If something happened to Corey, the boy who took over for me, then I’d be the only one who could make sure the show would still happen.”

She nodded slowly, then looked down at the driveway. “When would you have to leave?”

I felt a sinking in my stomach. No matter how I phrased my response, it was going to feel like a hundred Band-Aid rip-offs.

“Monday. And I need to let them know by noon on Sunday.”

Lou was still for a moment, then shifted her gaze up to the night sky. I could tell her brain was going a mile a minute.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I mumbled. “I’d probably have to pull out of
Into the Woods
. You guys would be long into tech week, and it wouldn’t be fair to make the cast act with an invisible Jack for three weeks.”

“So, you’ve already made your mind up,” she said, looking right at me and crossing her arms. “Am I right?”

“No, I haven’t.” My body suddenly felt like a roasting hot dog. I leaned up against the cool metal of the van door. “I have to talk to Davina at some point and discuss it with my parents.”

Lou began fiddling anxiously with the zipper of her
Music Man
hoodie.

“I also wanted to talk about it with you,” I continued. She let go of the zipper and buried her hands in the stretched-out pockets. “You’re my only real friend here, and I realize it puts you in an awkward position. You’re the reason I auditioned for
Into the Woods
. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be kicking a soccer ball against the garage, feeling sorry for myself, and acting like a brat to everyone.”

I looked for a nod of the head or a twinkle in her eye, something that would indicate a shred of understanding on her part. But Lou seemed more interested in the lint on her jeans than the friend standing in front of her.

“I thought you said you couldn’t even do that role anymore,” Lou muttered. I tried not to show on my face how much her words burned, knowing they were at least, in part, true.

“Yeah the singing’s gonna be hard, but I think working on
Into the Woods
has helped with, like, my confidence and stuff,” I said, shrugging. “I think without your help I’d never have been able to show my face in New York again.”

The only sounds that could be heard were the chirping of insects and a hum coming from our garage lights. In my dream scenario this would be the moment where my theater buddy put her disappointment aside, hugged me, and remarked what a great opportunity this would be to heal the hurt caused by getting fired. Even in the second-most-desirable scenario, she’d beg me to stay, swearing that the show just wouldn’t be the same with another Jack. But under the yellow glow of an October moon, in the shadow of a dusty minivan, my friend wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. This was the girl who on my first day in Ohio interrogated every word that came out of my mouth. The girl who could talk for hours comparing Broadway musicals to their Hollywood adaptations. The girl who stopped at nothing to convince a boy she hardly knew to face his fears and audition for a musical. For the first time since we’d locked eyes that afternoon in August, Lou had nothing to say.

“Okay, well, we should get back to our houses before our parents send out a search party.” I laughed phonily.

She nodded, turned away from me, and walked down my driveway toward her house.

• • •

That night as I lay in bed, one of Sondheim’s lyrics tumbled in my head. It seemed to have floated from the pages of my binder and into my dozing thoughts. It was from the song “Giants in the Sky,” in which Jack measures the fantasy world with the family he’s left back home.

“And you think of all of the things you’ve seen, And you wish that you could live in between.”

I flipped my pillow to the cool side, wishing for a way to return to
The Big Apple
without having to leave my
Into the Woods
family behind.

• • •

The next morning I sat at the breakfast table, drawing nervous spoon circles in my Greek yogurt. My mom dialed Davina’s number.

“I think it will be good to talk to her directly,” she said, passing me the phone. “Ask as many questions as you need.”

I put the receiver up to my ear just in time to hear a familiar voice bellowing from the other end.

“Jack, honey, how are you, my sweets?”

“I’m good. How are you, Davina?”

“Excellent, Jack! I’m great! I’m at the vet right now. Chicken Poodle Soup’s getting her teeth cleaned, and let me tell you, it’s about time. I was starting to hide Tic Tacs in her Puppy Chow.”

I laughed. This was classic Davina.

“So, listen, Marty and Fern from
The Big Apple
put in a call to me yesterday asking if you could come in for three weeks to vacation swing. Two thousand a week was their first offer, but I know what a bind they’re in, so I squeezed out an extra two hundred fifty a week plus a moving bonus. You’d rehearse for two days and start trailing Wednesday night.”

“Um. All right,” I muttered.

“Dylan’s one of my clients, you know, out with mono for at least a month, poor little guy! His Broadway debut, too, and he’ll have to enjoy it from his bedroom. But listen, this is great for you. I knew it wasn’t the end of your journey with
The Big Apple
, and now you get to be there for opening night. I hear they’re having the party at Madame Tussauds, that wax museum on Forty-Second?
Very
chichi
.”

I clasped the phone with both hands. I hadn’t realized I’d get to be there during opening. That would mean getting dressed up in fancy clothes and having my picture taken for a crowd of photographers. It also meant unlimited desserts and dancing with my castmates.

“That’s great,” I said.

“It’s more than great, Jack. It’s a second chance. Everyone loves a comeback, and this time,
you
get to be the guy who saves the day. Also: I’m working on getting a fridge for your dressing room.”

I looked over to my mom, who was smiling. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the stack of
Into the Woods
flyers Angela had given us the night before to distribute throughout the neighborhood. My heart instantly sank.

“Davina, there’s one problem, though.”

“A car service? I tried, Jack. You know I asked for it, but they said they won’t budge on that one. Not even Vivian Cromwell is getting that.”

“No, it’s not that. I actually”—I swallowed hard—“I got cast in a show here! In Shaker Heights. I’m playing Jack in
Into the Woods
right now, and I just feel bad about leaving my cast on such short notice.”

“Oh,” she peeped. I’d obviously caught her a little off guard.

“Yeah,” I continued. “We’re about to go into tech week, and I’d have to drop out if we moved back to New York, which would probably make some people a little upset.”

“Yes, I understand,” she responded quickly. “That’s very professionally minded of you, Jack. It’s something I’ve always admired.” She took a long slurp of something. “But Jack, listen, in this business second chances only come once in a blue moon, and do you know what?”

I waited for her to continue. The sound of her breathing alerted me that she might actually be waiting for a response.

“What?!” I blurted out.

“I happened to have heard from a little birdie”—she suddenly slowed down her speech, pitching her voice into a higher, quiet whisper—“that a certain Tony-winning director has been planning a certain revival of
Into the Woods
for quite some time.”

I felt my pulse quicken.

“So next year when they’re casting the workshop, guess who will be on the phone day in and day out, making sure that Jack Goodrich is the first person they think of during auditions?”

“Um, yo-ou?” I sort of squeaked.

“You bet, and once that voice of yours finishes changing, I don’t think there’s a single boy in New York who’d make a better Jack.”

I was speechless. I’d never considered the idea of playing Jack on Broadway.

“Speaking of which,” she resumed her hurried pace. “Fern and Marty have talked to the music department, and they’re okay with re-orchestrating your songs and dropping the key in case you had to go on as Hudson. That way you don’t have to worry about beltin’ out those high notes that were giving you a little trouble during rehearsals.” She exhaled. “It really is the perfect scenario.”

I felt sweat collecting on the receiver. My thoughts were swirling like water in a bathtub drain.

“So why don’t you talk it over with your parents? See if this is something you want to do, and if you need, I’m more than happy to call the director of your Cleveland show and see if there’s a way to break the contract.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any contract,” I said. “We’re rehearsing in a church.”

“Oh!” she squawked. “Well, then. Talk it over with your parents and have them call me back this afternoon. Okay, I have to go, my sweets. Chicken Poodle Soup just got out, and
oh heavens
, if they didn’t put the cutest little bow in her hair.”

“Okay, thanks, Davina,” I said. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, my love,” she said, and hung up the phone.

My dad was now standing behind my mom with his hands on her shoulders. They looked at me expectantly.

“So, what do ya think, Jack Sprat?”

“Um,” I said, collecting my thoughts.

“Just so you know,” my mom cut in. “Whatever you decide, we’re completely behind you. I don’t start teaching at the university until January, so I could come with you to New York if you wanted.”

“But if you decide you want to stay here and do
Into the Woods
,” my dad chimed in, “we think that’s great, too.”

While it was awesome having parents who supported me no matter what, it might have been nice to have someone to blame this decision on. I knew either way I’d be letting down a big group of people. As I looked down at my yogurt, Davina’s words echoed in my head.

Second chances only come once in a blue moon.