Acting Up (7 page)

The musical,
She's a Beauty
, was a retelling of the classic
My Fair Lady
, set in a modern-day high school. Eliza Doolittle had been transformed into Ellie Dooley, an awkward and shy teen, who moves to the city from a one-horse country town named Horton's Gulp. Ellie's country ways and patched-up clothes make her an obvious target for ridicule. Until the most popular boy in school, Harry Hightower, decides to make Ellie his school science project. Of course, Ellie transforms into a swan, and Harry falls in love with her.

Addison had to admit, she liked the premise. Her main worry was finding an Ellie. The character was the heart of the play, and the girl who played her had to break the heart of the audience and make them cheer for her. So far, Addison hadn't seen anyone who even came close to fitting the bill.

Joe Larsen finished butchering his audition and lumbered off the stage.

“Thank you, Joe,” Marjorie called out. “Very interesting. Next up is Luke Mitchell.”

Luke Mitchell strolled onto the stage with no apparent stage fright. He was almost as tall as Joe Larson, but lanky, with chocolate-brown hair flopping into his eyes and a killer grin. He handed the pianist his music and took center stage. Once his mouth opened, a roomful of women melted into their seats. Even Addison did a semi-melt.

She glanced down at his information sheet. “He's never been on stage before?”

Marjorie pulled her attention off the stage, eyes as wide as saucers. “He plays basketball. I've never heard him sing before. He's good, right?”

“Not just good. He's perfect. Say hello to Harry.”

Marjorie held up her hand. “Thank you, Luke. Very nice.”

Luke nodded and ambled off stage, as if he didn't even care if made the cast.

“Who's next?” Addison asked. “Please give me someone who can carry a tune. I'm starting to despair of ever finding an Ellie.”

“You're in luck. Lisa Turney has been the star the last two years. She's good. Knows it, too.”

Addison arched a brow. “One of those, huh?”

“Big fish in a tidal pool,” Marjorie said, rolling her eyes.

Lisa strode out onto the stage, shoulders back, chin at a one-hundred-ten-degree angle. She paused, allowing the audience to take in and appreciate her blond, blue-eyed perfection.

“Don't take my arm too much…”

She'd picked the same musical as Joe, only this time the person singing was good. Very good, and oh boy, did she know it.

“You almost want her to be terrible, don't you?”

Marjorie bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Bad girl. We want all our students to excel. We love them all the same, just as God does.”

“Sometimes I wish God would spread out His blessings a little more. She's the best one of the bunch, too. She'll do for Ellie, though how I'll ever get her to look like a country bumpkin, I don't know.”

Lisa finished her number to a healthy round of applause. Like any good diva she accepted the praise with utmost grace.

“Michelle Cerillo!” Marjorie called out.

If Lisa was the diva, the girl who walked out on stage next was the backup singer. Thick glasses obscured most of her round face, and a severe ponytail did nothing to enhance any good features she might have possessed. Whereas Lisa acted as though she owned the stage, Michelle shuffled onto it, as if fearing someone would come and drag her off at any moment. She didn't have sheet music, so she bypassed the piano and went to the center of the stage and began to sing.

On the first note, Addison's head came up.

“Oh, my word,” Marjorie breathed.

“Did you know about her?”

“No, Michelle doesn't speak much in class.”

Addison couldn't believe the voice emerging from the stage. Michelle's meekness had vanished. She seemed to transform right before their eyes.

As the last note faded, the auditorium went silent. Then applause began. Addison thought she might have even started it. Then the whole place erupted in a thunderous ovation, and Michelle came back to earth.

After several minutes the applause died out, and Michelle left the stage.

Addison turned to Marjorie and grinned. “Methinks we've got ourselves a play.”

****

Addison spent the rest of evening hammering out the cast list with Marjorie. Narrowing down the prospects from the hundreds of hopefuls to the handful of kids who wouldn't cause oratory nerve damage and had some stage presence wasn't so difficult. Casting Luke Mitchell and Michelle Cerillo as leads was a no-brainer. Slotting the remaining students into the correct roles took a lot more effort.

In the end, Addison chose golden-haired Lisa as Ellie Dooley's scheming rival. The character of Bree Sommerville was the resident manipulator. Popular, pretty, and not about to yield her status to an outsider from the country, the role was perfect for the young diva-in-training. Then the rest of the cast fell into place.

The next afternoon, Addison went to the school to post the final casting. Marjorie was waiting in the parking lot, and she hurried over the minute Addison stepped out of her car.

“Come with me,” Marjorie said, even as she scoured the lot.

Addison glanced around as well. “Are we under surveillance?”

Without a word, Marjorie took Addison's arm and started walking her around the side of the school. It wasn't a stroll either, more like a near gallop.

“You want to tell me why we're practically running?”

Marjorie opened a heavy door and peeked inside. After a second she pulled Addison inside and slammed the door shut.

“You're leaving a bruise,” Addison said. “What's going on?”

Marjorie chuckled. “Sorry, but the students have started to gather at the bulletin board. The crowd was getting big, and if you went in the front door, I was afraid you'd get mobbed.”

Marjorie started down the hall and stopped in front of a room marked
Teachers' Lounge.
She shoved the door open, and Addison followed. She'd never been inside the inner sanctum of the teachers' universe and took in everything with great interest. The reality was disappointing, as her survey revealed nothing more than couple of round tables, a sink, refrigerator, and microwave. A handful of teachers were seated at the tables, and they all surveyed Addison with an air of detached curiosity.

Until they recognized her. Then jaws dropped.

“Hello, everyone. Meet Addison Covington. She's going to be directing our play,” Marjorie said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if a TV star showing up in the teachers' lounge was an everyday occurrence.

Marjorie pointed to an ancient woman who'd probably started teaching back when there were still one-room schoolhouses. Addison knew the woman had been teaching when she'd gone to school here because she remembered her.

“Addison, do you remember Ms—” Marjorie began.

“Ms. Klusky,” Addison said. “American History. Of course. You're looking well.”

“I'm looking old,” the other woman said with a grunt. “Did well for yourself, kid. Good for you.”

“Thank you,” Addison said with surprise. Ms. Klusky hadn't had much to say to her before, let alone a word of praise.

Two men were seated at the closest table. One was nearing forty with a receding hairline and a barrel chest. Even if he hadn't been dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, Addison would have pegged him as a coach, football at a guess.

“Coach Bennett, our athletic director,” Marjorie said.

The big man rose from his chair to shake her hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma'am.”

The other man was in his early thirties with dark hair falling in elegant disarray over his forehead. The kind of teacher young girls went all gooey-eyed over. British Literature with an emphasis on poetry and the works of Byron, Keats, and Wordsworth, Addison guessed.

“Andrew Laughton,” Marjorie said. “English and literature.”

Man, I am good.

Andrew did the coach one better, raising Addison's hand to his lips in a gallant kiss. “
She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies,”
he said, in a swoon-worthy British accent.
“And all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

Oh boy… were the girls in this school lucky or what?

Marjorie gestured to the tiny man at the farthest table. Addison recognized him, too. Mr. Seeley, her biology teacher. He'd always had an air of the undead about him. Tall and skeletal with dark-as-night hair slicked back against his head. Mr. Seeley also had the curious habit of talking without ever moving his lips. The intervening years had brought no aging, but then Addison guessed when one was part of the underworld one didn't age.

Seeley arched one brow in greeting, but otherwise didn't bother to acknowledge her presence. Marjorie caught Addison's eye and grinned, then moved on to the other woman in the room. She was young, full-figured and apple-cheeked with brown hair.

Home Economics
, Addison thought.

“This is Maureen Collins,” Marjorie said. “She teaches physics.”

Addison tried not to gape. The Betsy Ross look-alike taught the mechanics of the universe?

Maureen giggled. “I get that look every time. What can I say? I'm a geek in Betty Crocker's body.”

“It's three o'clock,” Marjorie said with a glance at the big wall clock. “Time to put the students out of their misery. I'm not sure you should go out there. I can go post the list if you want.”

Addison put her hands on her hip. “I'm not hiding out like some kind of fugitive. We go in together.”

Marjorie gave a mock salute. “Whatever you say, boss.”

With a final nod at the other teachers, Marjorie led Addison out of the room and down several hallways.

“Am I going to need bread crumbs to find my way back?” Addison asked after the fourth turn.

Marjorie laughed. “We're going the long way. The bulletin board is near the front of the school. We went in the back.”

Finally, Addison picked up a low buzz. They turned another corner, and the din grew louder. Addison could see the source of the noise now, too. A great crowd of teenage bodies filled the hallway. One of them turned.

“They're here!” the sentry cried.

A million heads turned in their direction. Addison fought the urge to beat a hasty retreat as at least two dozen teenagers converged around them.

“You want to go put the list up on the board, or shall I?” Marjorie asked.

She swallowed. “Maybe you should.”

Addison handed over the cast list, and Marjorie secured it against her chest. “Ladies and gentlemen… back off.”

The teens halted in mid-step. Addison gaped, wondering if Ms. Shannon was some kind of magician.

Marjorie winked before leveling a quelling gaze on the crowd. “I have the cast list with me. Please behave like the well-brought-up young adults I know you are. No pushing, no shouting, and above all, no complaining. All of you did very well, but there are of course a limited number of parts. We worked very hard to find the best person for each role. I hope those of you who were not cast will consider helping out in some other way.”

The students parted, and she walked to the bulletin board unscathed. However, even she wasn't brave enough to stick around once the list was posted. The moment Marjorie was done, she hurried back over to Addison's side.

The kids crowded around the board like ants to a crumb. There were a couple of screams right off.

“I got in!”

“Me, too!”

Luke Mitchell walked up to the board as if he was taking a stroll in the park. His eyes widened as he saw the list. Several of the other boys slapped him on the back, and for the first time, Addison saw some real emotion. He took a deep breath. Then he mouthed
thank you
. Addison clapped, and Luke answered with a big grin.

Addison couldn't help sighing in appreciation. “Oh, to be seventeen again.”

Marjorie nodded. “We'll sell out because of him.”

Unlike the others, Lisa Turney didn't push to get to the front. She waited on the sidelines, secure in the knowledge she'd been cast. Addison hoped the mini-diva wouldn't pitch a fit when she saw what part she'd be playing.

Another girl was relaying the information back to her. “Lisa, you got in. You're Bree Sommerville. How cool.”

“Bree!”

The cool mask slipped as a frown darkened Lisa's face. She pushed through the crowd and stared at the board in disbelief. Her head whipped around to where Addison and Marjorie were standing. Venom shot from Lisa's blue eyes, and with one final furious glare, she tore off down the hall.

“What's her problem?” the girl asked.

“Bree isn't the lead,” one of the boys said. “Guess Queen Bee doesn't like being a co-star.”

The informer checked the list again. “Oh! Michelle, you're Ellie.”

Michelle was also standing outside the group, and she gasped. “Are you sure?”

The girl pulled Michelle's arm, bringing her up to the bulletin board. “See? You deserve the part. You were so awesome.”