D Is for Drama (20 page)

“We really need to promote our show,” I told the Melodramatics the week we started blocking.

“I can get my parents to come,” said Anne Marie.

“We can
all
get our parents to come,” I said. “But we need people who didn't change our diapers to show up. Spread the word!”

The Monday after that, Bree and I swung by the front office to see how ticket sales had been.

“You've sold fifty,” said the cashier.

I sighed. “That would be everyone's parents.”

“And siblings,” said Bree. “How many people does the theater seat?”

“Two hundred,” I said.

We walked out of the office and headed for the auditorium.

“I don't get it,” I said. “People love
Wicked
. Why wouldn't they want to see it?”

“No offense to us,” she said, “but look at the two casts.
Wicked
is full of no-names;
Mary Pops In
is full of
known
names. People are going to see kids they recognize. And they don't know if we have any talent.”

I pointed at her and smiled triumphantly. “Then we have to show them. What do they always play before a movie?”

Bree made a face. “Commercials.”

“No, not commercials!” I rapped on her skull with my knuckles. “Previews! Trailers for upcoming films to get you interested in them.”

She gave me a dubious look. “You want to make a trailer for our show.”

“Why not?” I asked. “We can borrow an AV camera, film at today's practice and air it for the next two weeks during morning announcements.”

I tugged her in the direction of the AV equipment room.

“How do we decide what to put in the trailer?” she asked.

“We'll use little clips of us singing, a couple of brief words. Trust me. It'll be great,” I said.

I signed out one of the cameras and turned on the power.

“Bree Hill,” I aimed it at her, “tell me something wicked!”

“That's a cute idea!” She laughed and rubbed her chin.
“Wicked . . . wicked. Oh! I once stole a lipstick from the sample counter at Macy's.”

I made a face. “You stole a used lipstick?”

“Yeah. The one you like to borrow,” she said with an evil grin.

“Eeew!” I squealed. “
That
is wicked.”

She took the camera from me. “What about you, Sunny Kim? What wicked thing have you done?”

I leaned in. “I accidentally dropped my dad's toothbrush in the toilet and put it back before he found out.”

“Ugh!” Bree laughed, and we ran into Blakely with the camera.

We told the other kids our idea to boost ticket sales, and they were beyond excited. I started pulling people aside for wicked confessions, most of which turned out to be pretty funny.

“I once hid Kyle's goldfish and told him we were having them for dinner,” said Derek. “Then I asked my mom to cook fish sticks.”

Kyle punched him in the arm. “That's okay. Because I wrapped an Axe label around a glue stick and told Derek it was a pocket-size deodorant.”

After I'd gotten all my confessions, I taped bits of the show and had someone else handle the scenes I was in.

“Who are you going to get to make the final trailer?” asked Derek at the end of practice. “Because Kyle and I are pretty good at that kind of stuff. We could work together on something.”

Kyle grinned at Derek.

“That would be awesome,” I said. I checked my watch and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, but I have to make a phone call.”

I told everyone good-bye and slipped into an empty classroom to call Stefan. This time, instead of animals or violins, I heard a voice through a loudspeaker, followed by cheering in the background.

“Hey, Sunny!” Stefan yelled into the phone.

“Where are you now?” I asked.

“Method acting!” he told me. “Me and the other guys are finished getting ready for your special favor for Chase. We're just making sure we have everything right.”

“You're finished?” I asked, pumping my fist in the air. “Can you guys meet me this Wednesday?”

“Of course!” he said. “Just give me the address.”

I told him and hurried back to the theater to wait for Chase's group to arrive. Ilana was one of the first, and she eyed me suspiciously.

“Hey,” I told her. “Just waiting for Chase.”

She nodded. “I think he's arguing with his dad again.”

I frowned. “He still won't come to the show, huh?”

“Not even if Chase ends it by diving into a cup of water,” said Ilana.

Chase walked over, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Hey . . . guys,” he said. “What's going on?”

“Ilana and I just had a big catfight,” I said. “You missed it.”

Ilana nodded. “But we'll be at it again tomorrow for an encore.” She waved at me and walked away.

“Okay,” Chase said with a laugh. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I'm glad you two are getting along again.” He bumped my shoulder with his, and I giggled.

Why did that happen
every
time he came in contact with me?

“And I'm glad you made up with the rest of your cast,” he said.

“With
your
help,” I said, nudging him back.

He let out a high-pitched giggle that mirrored mine.

“Stop it!” I said with a laugh.

“So, why
are
you here?” he asked.

“I couldn't remember if you were busy on Wednesday,” I said. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Baseball game.” Chase made a face. “I'd skip it, but my dad's going to be in the stands.”

“Perfect!” I said enthusiastically.

Judging by the weird look on Chase's face, I must have said it
too
enthusiastically.

“Uh . . . because I want to watch you play!” I said.

Chase's face brightened. “Really?”

In reality I only wanted to see the first few minutes, but he seemed so happy. How could I say no?

“Sure!” I said. “Gooo, baseball!”

I punched my fist in the air, which looked even stupider than I'd predicted, but Chase didn't seem to mind.

He grinned. “Great! So, Wednesday night. At the ball field.”

“Tell your dad to save me a seat,” I said.

“Sure,” he said.

I should have told Chase to save the seat in front of Mr. O'Malley as well . . . to hold his jaw when it dropped.

Wednesday night, Bree and Suresh followed me into the stands at the baseball game.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Suresh asked. “Chase's dad might just get really angry.”

“This'll work,” I told him. “Trust me.”

“Last time you said that, Anne Marie's face looked like a giant pea,” said Bree.

“Yeah, well, this time's going to be different,” I said.

I glanced into the stands and saw Mr. O'Malley sitting by himself.

“Come on,” I said. “And act cool.”

“I'm Indian,” said Suresh with a sniff. “Cool is in my DNA.”

We made our way up the steps to Mr. O'Malley's row, and I waved to him.

“Sunny!” he said, patting the seat beside him. “Good to see you!”

“Thanks, Mr. O'Malley.” I gestured to Bree and Suresh. “These are my friends. They're in the
Wicked
show with me.”

Mr. O'Malley shook their hands. “I'm impressed with you kids, taking on your own show. How's it going?”

“If we can sell one hundred fifty tickets in the next week, it'll be great,” I said with a tight smile.

He winced. “Sales not so hot?”

“We're lucky our parents are showing up,” I said. Then I had an idea. “I don't suppose you'd come to Chase's
and
ours?”

If I acted like it was a given he'd attend, maybe Mr. O'Malley would feel obligated to go.

“I'm sorry, Sunny,” he said with a smooth smile. “But I have an important meeting that evening. I won't even be able to attend Chase's show.”

So much for that plan.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement on the field. Stefan, wearing a baseball uniform and cleats, was pushing a sound system in front of the stands. I straightened in my seat.

“Looks like they're getting started,” I said.

A bunch of guys in uniform walked out onto the field, followed by a girl. Chase, who was standing on the pitcher's mound, watched in confusion. So did his father.

“What on earth?” mumbled Mr. O'Malley.

Stefan switched on the sound, and the girl's voice carried into the stands.

“Shoeless Joe from Hannibal, MO! That's my story, fellas! And I got a feeling it's only the beginning!”

The crowd buzzed as a musical intro played.

Mr. O'Malley's jaw dropped. “This is a musical number!”

Everyone else in the stands realized it as well and started cheering. The girl and the guys in baseball uniforms sang and danced around Chase, who stood rooted
to the spot, swiveling his head to follow them. Meanwhile, the crowd clapped their hands to the rhythm . . . except Mr. O'Malley. He was frowning and rubbing his forehead.

I glanced at Bree and Suresh, who gave me an
I told you so
look. I turned back to Mr. O'Malley and cautiously tapped his arm.

“Sir? Is . . . is something wrong?” I shouted above the rhythmic clapping of the crowd.

He gestured down onto the field. “Chase
knows
this number. He did it for an elementary talent show.”

“Awww,” I said, smiling. “That's nice.”

“Not when I know he's better than the rest of them, but he's just standing there!”

A smile spread slowly across my face, and it was all I could do to keep from hugging Mr. O'Malley. Bree and Suresh grinned at me and exchanged a subtle high-five with each other. I nudged Bree and stood in my seat.

“Chase! Chase! Chase! Chase!” I hollered in time to the music.

Bree and Suresh hopped up and joined the cry.

“Chase! Chase! Chase! Chase!”

People around us started shouting too, and soon even Mr. O'Malley was clapping and mumbling under his breath.

Chase finally heard his name over the music and turned
around. At first he stared at
me
, wide-eyed and embarrassed, but then his eyes traveled to his dad. The expression on Chase's face was priceless. His forehead wrinkled in confusion, and his nostrils flared with emotion.

“
Dance
!” I yelled, gesturing to the rest of the team.

Chase shook himself out of his stupor and jumped into line with the rest of the ball players, quickly catching up to their foot movements. When Chase picked the girl up and twirled her behind his back, Mr. O'Malley actually
whooped
.

The dance number ended much too soon, and the audience gave them a standing ovation. Stefan emerged from the group and stood facing the stands.

“If you enjoyed that number,” he said breathlessly, “the Carnegie Arts Academy is putting on
two
musicals next weekend,
Wicked
and
Mary Pops In
. I recommend them both.”

If I'd had any budget money left, I would have thrown it gratefully at his feet.

“Ooh,
Wicked
,” said a woman sitting in front of me. “I love that show.”

Mr. O'Malley leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, he said, “Some of the stars are right here.” He pointed to me, Suresh, and Bree.

The three of us blushed and waved.

“
Really?
” said the woman.

“This one sings like a bird,” said Mr. O'Malley, pointing at me. “You should check out the show.”

I smiled and ducked my head. “Thank you, sir!”

“Hey, O'Malley!” a guy called to him. “Was that your kid out there?”

My body tensed, and I gave Chase's dad a worried look. Would this ruin it? Would he be embarrassed?

Mr. O'Malley turned a little red but said, “Yep, that's my Chase!”

“Strong kid!” the guy called back.

I melted into a puddle in my seat.

The game started, and I had to admit, it wasn't bad. Chase struck out batter after batter, and his team went on to win the game by four runs. When it ended and everyone was clearing the stands, Chase came up to greet us.

“Hey!” He hugged me and Bree and bumped fists with Suresh. “I'm glad you guys came.” It took him a second longer to look at Mr. O'Malley. “Hey, Dad.”

“Chase.” Mr. O'Malley clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Very impressive out there.”

Chase grinned and rotated his pitching shoulder. “I've been working on my curveball.”

His dad's face turned solemn. “I meant all of it, son.”

Bree and Suresh motioned to me and tiptoed away. I moved to follow them, but Chase's fingers caught my wrist, and he cast me a pleading glance. I froze and did my best not to listen in on the conversation.

“You're impressed by all of what?” Chase asked. I could tell he wasn't daring to hope. “The baseball?”

I tried to make myself as invisible as possible, which was hard to do with Chase holding my wrist in a death grip.

“I'm just gonna sit and let you two talk,” I whispered, trying to break free.

Thankfully, Chase let go of my wrist, but his hand traveled down to mine and clenched that instead.

“No, son,” said his dad, clearing his throat. “You did pretty well with the musical stuff, too.”

Chase smashed my fingers in his, and I pressed my lips together to suppress a scream.

“Seriously? I didn't even practice that,” he said with a tentative smile. “But I
have
been working like crazy on
Mary Pops In
.” He paused. “That's pretty responsible.”