All the Way (18 page)

“Who knows? But don't worry,” I reassured her. “There are a lot of black dresses with spaghetti straps in this world. If that one's gone, we'll find you something else just as good.”

I felt like her big sister, which was kind of cool.

“Besides, you
never ever
buy the first dress you try on,” I explained. “Even if it's perfect. You've got to try on, like, a hundred, and then come back to that one, and finally give in to it.”

Emily laughed, totally into the spirit of this shopping trip.

The mall was pretty empty, so we more or less had the place to ourselves. I decided we'd start at Banana Republic because they had a fabulous printed chiffon tea-length dress in the window, with spaghetti straps to keep Emily smiling, but it turned out to be a bad color for her—way too much orange for her pale porcelain skin. They had the same dress in a blue-green print, but in those colors, it looked like something you'd wear to a garden party with a big hat.

“What about this?” Emily pulled a blue silk dress with a pleated skirt off the rack.

“Not hot enough,” I said, taking it right out of her hands and shoving it back where it belonged.

Next we went to Hollister & Co., but they didn't have anything dressy enough for the prom. (They
did
have the cutest little skirt and top in a chocolate color that made Emily's hair look even blonder, so she bought it to wear in New York for her next
American Superstar
audition.)

Then we cruised Major Party, a cute little boutique with a lot of local designer dresses. But they were out of all the small sizes.

“Can't we go to Kaufman's and try on that black dress?” Emily pleaded.

“Okay.” I gave in. It was getting late, and we hadn't eaten anything since lunch.

The minute she put the black dress on, I could see it all over her face: she had to have it. And why not? I mean, I'd picked it out for her myself the first time we were shopping together. I guess my instincts were totally right that day, because the dress just made her look and
feel
like a hottie. She even carried herself differently when she was wearing it.

“You're right, it's perfect for you,” I said. “The only thing it needs is something to dress up the bottom. What if I add a flounce of black tulle around the hem, just to make it a little more fun?”

“I'd love that!” Emily said, her eyes glowing.

“Great! Now all you need are some long, glittery drop earrings, some cute strappy sandals, and a little black bag with a rhinestone clasp.”

“My mom has a bag like that,” she volunteered, and then instantly looked guilty. “Oh, right. I'm not supposed to wear anything my mom would wear . . . right?”

“Basically, yeah,” I said. “But when it comes to little evening clutches, vintage is good.”

“So you're saying it's okay?”

“It's probably excellent.”

For some reason, that made her happy. I guess we all like to please our mothers.

We made the salesclerk wrap her dress up in a big box, just so it would feel more like a present when she opened it at home. Emily paid with her mom's credit card, then I zoomed through the jewelry department and found the perfect earrings: four-inch droopy Judith Jack-style marcasite chandelier earrings. The best part was, they were knockoffs at half the price.

Emily couldn't stop staring at herself in the jewelry counter mirror. I held her hair swept up, so her cheekbones really showed. She was a knockout, now that I had worked my magic on her.

“You're amazing,” she said to me.

Yeah,
I thought.
I am pretty good at this makeover thing!

We marched out of the mall arm in arm like we owned the place.

And all at once I knew the prom was going to be the best night of my life. We were going to be the two hottest babes at the dance . . . we were going to rock 'n' roll the whole school . . . and if my plan worked the way I thought it would, I was going to make over my own reputation on prom night, too.

 

 

 

“Carmen, can you, uh . . . can I talk to you?” David mumbled as I brushed past him five minutes before curtain on the opening night of the play.

“Not now,” I said, shaking my head and racing toward the girls' dressing room.

What could he possibly want?
I wondered. He'd been avoiding me all week, ever since that horrible scene at Murphy's, ducking behind the curtains backstage, slinking around behind pieces of scenery every time he saw me coming, and darting his eyes away when we passed in the hall.

Now all of a sudden he had something to say? Right now? On opening night?

Well, it would have to wait.

“Come on, people, curtain in four minutes,” Mr. Richards called, dashing around in the wings. Cast members were everywhere, most of them fully costumed and ready to go, but some of them racing to Dressing Room C, where guys and girls both were either doing their own makeup or having it done by a few parents who had volunteered to help.

“Carmen, my fishnets are ripped!” Becca cried, racing up to me with a doom-and-disaster expression on her face.

She twirled so I could see the big gash in the back of her fishnet stockings.

“Don't worry, I can fix it.” I dashed over to the lighting board and grabbed a small roll of black electrician's tape.

I tore off a small piece about the size of a fingernail clipping and used it to patch her stockings, pulling the torn pieces together.

“Genius,” she said gratefully. “Thanks!”

“Emily! The crap table is missing!” Mr. Richards called.

“Right there!”

“Someone sat on my hat!”

“Carmen! Can you find another hat for Nicely Nicely Johnson?” Mr. Richards called.

“We need the chorus boys and girls stage left immediately!” Darren Gagin, who was acting as stage manager, called.

“I can't find my drum!” Natalie moaned. “It was right here a minute ago. Dammit, Tyler, did you move my drum?”

“Calm down, my darling,” Tyler said in his most theatrical baritone voice, and a fake English accent. “If we don't find it before curtain, you can simply beat on me.”

I raced around checking each of the actors to make sure they hadn't forgotten to zip up, or button, or whatever, and making sure they had all their accessories on. Then I went from guy to guy, trying to find one who had a big head and didn't need his hat, so Nicely Nicely Johnson (played by not-so-nicely Benny Rancelli) could have a hat for his opening number.

When I came to Tyler, I just glanced up and down and said, “Yeah, you look like a guy who'd make a bet about conning a girl.”

He didn't dare say anything back. He knew he'd been a first-class ass.

That was the one difference between Tyler and Joey: Joey was an asshole without even realizing it.

Finally the curtain went up, and half the cast rushed onstage for the opening dance number. Natalie wasn't part of it, so she hung out backstage, watching me like a hawk.

What's her problem?
I wondered. Had she somehow figured out what Emily and I were up to?

I tried to think hard, to make sure she hadn't seen us or overheard anything over the past few days. Emily and I had worked the whole revenge plan out in cunning detail. We'd watched both dress rehearsals on Tuesday and Wednesday so we knew exactly where Tyler would go to change. The boys' dressing room was too far away from the wings for the quick change Tyler needed to make in Act II, so Mr. Richards had gotten the crew to set up a screen in the back corner of the wings, stage left. It was dark back there anyway, and the guys weren't too worried about privacy, so they were supposed to just duck behind the screen, change their costumes, and get back out, ready for their cues.

The great thing was that Sky Masterson didn't even need to have a costume change in the second act, but Tyler was such a peacock, it had been his idea. There was this very cool suit he'd found at a thrift shop—it showed off his cute butt—so he bought it and talked me into letting him change into it right before his big love scene with Natalie.

That was back when he could get me to do what he wanted. Way before last weekend, needless to say.

Emily came up and stood beside me as we watched from the wings.

“Everyone's nervous, you can tell,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Yeah. But not half as nervous as I am,” I whispered back.

It was total torture waiting all the way through the first act, not knowing if my plan was going to work the way I hoped. I mean, I'd stolen the pants that afternoon and taken them home and sewn up the side seams in both legs—but I kind of had to guess at how much.

What if I'd sewn them too tight, and he couldn't even get them on?

On the other hand, if they weren't tight enough, he'd just zip and it would be no big deal.

Out front, the audience was going wild, laughing at all the jokes and hooting and cheering when each song was over. Natalie was chewing up the scenery, overplaying her prissy role as Sergeant Sarah Brown, which was getting a lot of laughs just because it was so not her.

Finally the first-act curtain came down, and everyone crowded backstage to change into their second-act costumes.

“You were awesome!” Becca cooed to Natalie.

“Did you catch how I blew that line about Lieutenant Brannigan, and then covered it up with the racing form joke?” Benny Rancelli said.

“Nicely done,” Jacob joked to Nicely Nicely Johnson.

Funny. There'd been a lot of “nicely” jokes all through rehearsals, but that was the best one, mostly because of the way Jacob said it.

As everyone rushed around backstage, bursting with the excitement of opening night, I felt the first pang of jealousy since the auditions. They were all having a crazy, total blast, and I was just a bystander, watching from the wings.

But my big scene was coming. Oh, yeah. And when my turn came, when I was done playing the role of a lifetime—The Slut of Norton High—I knew I'd be so juiced on it, you couldn't bring me down with a sledgehammer.

“Carmen, where's that extra bunny tail?” someone called to me, and I went off to rummage through the costume trunk. On the way, I passed David, who was still trying to get my attention, I could feel it.

“You need anything?” he asked, all Mr. Helpful.

“No thanks.”

“Was the sound okay out front?” he asked.

“How would I know?” I snapped. “I was backstage the whole time.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, can I talk to you when you . . . ?”

I ran off.

I was almost afraid he was going to take me aside and say he'd changed his mind, that he wanted to go to the prom. Too late, I'd have to tell him. I had other plans now.

Big plans.

Intermission seemed to drag on forever. Even the cast felt it. Everyone was itching to get back onstage and finish the show, and Emily and I were going to explode if we had to wait much longer to pull our pants trick.

Finally Mr. Richards flashed the lights in the lobby, where parents were fake-congratulating each other on how well all the other kids were doing, when all they really wanted was for someone to say how great their own kid was. Of course, no one came back to their seats right away, because they'd been so busy working the crowd, they hadn't had time to go pee. Plus all the little brothers and sisters were still busy eating donuts that the Student Council sold as a sticky fund-raiser.

The wait was killing me.

But at last Act II started, and I huddled with Emily so we could watch the scenes together, from the wings.

Natalie was really quite good, I had to admit. Not as sincere as I liked, but her voice was amazing, and she did light up the stage. I could see that having a huge audience out there had turned on some inner glow in her, which made her even more captivating.

“This is it,” Emily whispered as Tyler's first scene in Havana ended and he dashed off the stage. She reached over and squeezed my wrist.

“Did you put them where they're supposed to be?” I whispered.

She nodded.

We had arranged for Emily to take the sewn-up pants out of the costume closet and hang them on the rack near the screened-off area, just in case Natalie was somehow on to me. She'd been watching me so closely, I was afraid she'd figured it out.

I glanced into the dark back corner. Tyler was behind the screen alone, with no one nearby to help him. It was perfect!

There was a quick scenery change going on onstage, with the lights dimmed. Backstage, everyone was supposed to be silent. No talking allowed.

I walked over to the table at the edge of the screen, where Tyler was supposed to lay his old costume when he took it off. Quickly I scooped it up and carried it far away, to a closet where no one would find it till much later.

Then the lights came up, the whole chorus flooded onto the stage for the Cuban café scene, and Natalie made her entrance.

“Tyler,” Darren whispered. “You're on.”

“Shit!”

Emily and I had to cover our mouths to keep from giggling loudly.

There was a long, long pause, while the orchestra vamped, waiting for Tyler to make his entrance from stage left. We quickly slipped around back, so we could watch from the wings on stage right.

Finally he came out, walking funny, sort of spreading his legs wide, trying to keep his pants from falling down. Almost instantly, someone in the audience tittered. Then a key light hit him just right, and everyone could see that his pants weren't zipped all the way.