Love, Life, and the List
Page 16
“Myself and Jana Kehler, the director, will be sitting at that long table back there. So make sure you project.” She smiled, then held her arms out to the sides. “If I could get the guys to come up the stairs and gather behind the curtain, stage left, and the ladies stage right, we can get started.”
Everyone stood and filed up a set of stairs on either side of the stage.
“I’m thinking of a proper punishment for you after this,” Cooper said.
“You’ll be fine. You love the spotlight.”
“Not this kind,” he said right before we separated and joined our respective groups on opposite sides. Lacey saw me and walked quickly over.
“I thought that was you,” she said. “I didn’t know you liked theater. Be honest, was it my amazing British monologue at the library?”
“Yes, so inspiring.”
“That’s what I thought.” She smirked.
“Speaking of that amazing monologue, why aren’t you starring in this thing?” I asked.
“My acting coach suggested trying all the different aspects of theater as a form of growth. That’s exactly how she said it too.”
“I figured.”
She laughed. “Here’s to growth.”
“So,” I said before she expected too much from my audition, “this isn’t my thing and I didn’t know I needed to bring music.”
Girls were trying to walk around Lacey and me to get backstage, so she pulled me to the nearest corner. “That’s okay. People who don’t bring their own music get to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“Nice.”
“Did I see Cooper Wells too? Did you guys come together?”
“Yes.”
She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Oh, no. Not together like that. We’re just friends.”
We both looked across the stage to where Cooper stood staring at us, like he found it weird to see us talking.
“You don’t keep someone who looks like that in the friend zone for too long,” Lacey said.
“Yes, I do, I mean, no, I don’t want . . . didn’t want to. He . . . it’s complicated. Please don’t repeat that,” I added, realizing I’d just revealed more to her than I ever had to Rachel.
“I have no idea what you just said, so I will gladly not repeat it.”
“Thank you.”
She gestured over her shoulder. “I better go. Someone has to run this thing.”
“Okay.”
“Break a leg,” she said and was off.
The next hour went by like someone had pushed a fast-forward button. Lacey would call people out one by one to sing. She and the director would take notes, and then the next person would be up.
Cooper went out before me. I thought he would be nervous, but he smiled at the judging table. “I didn’t bring music,” he said. “But I can sing some Metallica if you want. Or a little MJ.”
I held in my laugh.
“Happy Birthday is fine,” Lacey said.
He nodded, and the piano gave a frilly intro. Then Cooper sang. A few of the girls standing near me giggled.
One behind me said, “He’s nice to look at, but not good on the ears.”
I didn’t think his voice was all that horrible. It wasn’t like the other guys we’d heard who were polished and perfect, but he could carry a tune. When he got to the part where he had to insert a name, he sang Lacey. I peeked around the corner to see her smile at that.
When the piano played its last note, Cooper bowed and left the stage.
Finally, it was my turn. I’d been the one to suggest this, and now my palms were sweating, my heart racing.
A spotlight I hadn’t noticed before shone right in my eyes. I tried to look at Lacey and the director, but I couldn’t see them through the bright haze. I held up my hand to block some of the light.
Lacey gave me the thumbs-up.
“I need to sing Happy Birthday too.”
Without another word, the piano began its opening notes. I dropped my hand and let the light take over my vision. I always thought I was a better singer than Cooper, but there on the big stage in the middle of the even bigger theater, my voice was swallowed whole. I tried to sing louder, but I was already forcing my voice, so it cracked. I was so happy when I sang the last “you” and I rushed offstage.
“Good job,” the girl who’d been mocking Cooper said.
“Really?” I asked.
“You were kind of quiet, but you have a nice voice.”
“Thanks.” A surprising feeling of happiness coursed through me. I peered across the stage to the other side to see if I could get a glimpse of Cooper. He was standing there beaming, and the happiness in my chest expanded even further.
When all the singing was done, we were handed reading parts we had to perform. It felt like we’d been there all day, listening to people with varying degrees of talent read, when finally Lacey dismissed us. She handed out a paper that explained the callback process, and everyone filed toward the doors.
I hooked my arm in Cooper’s and we headed to the exit.
“That was torture,” he said.
“It wasn’t that bad.” It was something new. Something I’d never tried before, and it had pushed me outside my comfort zone to feel nerves I hadn’t felt in a while.
“You have a good singing voice,” he said to me.
“Thanks.”
“I don’t think I realized that before.”
“Abby!” Lacey ran down the aisle toward us. Cooper and I turned to face her. “Hey,” she said, when she stopped in front of us. “I wanted to tell you about a small barbecue I’m having at my house for the Fourth. You should come. Both of you.”
I’d actually heard about Lacey’s parties. There was nothing small about them. She lived in a huge house and threw even bigger parties. We’d never been invited, though. Cooper looked at me. We always watched the fireworks on the pier for the Fourth of July, and I wondered what he thought about this change of itinerary.
“Um,” I said, hesitating. Cooper didn’t say a word, obviously leaving this decision up to me.
“There will be people and food and fireworks. It’ll be fun,” she added.
Maybe I could count it as something from my list. The one about strangers or trying something new. I had to think of five of those, after all. “Okay.”
“Really?” Cooper said under his breath, and I elbowed him.
Lacey took the paper I held about callback information and wrote her name and number on it. “Text me and I’ll give you my address and stuff.”
“Okay.”
Cooper held his tongue until we’d waved good-bye and were outside. “Are you and Lacey friends now?”
“No, I hardly know her.” We hadn’t had a new friend join our group since it originally formed. We all got along too well and were too comfortable with one another to try and force an expansion.
“So no pier this year?” he asked.
“Rachel and Justin aren’t here, so it will already be different. We don’t have to stay at her party long if you don’t want to.”
He shrugged. “Maybe we should. Maybe I’ll bring a date.”
I tried to keep my voice casual when I said, “You might want to ask Lacey first.”
“If she’s just going around inviting random people, I’m sure she’d be fine with it.”
Everyone stood and filed up a set of stairs on either side of the stage.
“I’m thinking of a proper punishment for you after this,” Cooper said.
“You’ll be fine. You love the spotlight.”
“Not this kind,” he said right before we separated and joined our respective groups on opposite sides. Lacey saw me and walked quickly over.
“I thought that was you,” she said. “I didn’t know you liked theater. Be honest, was it my amazing British monologue at the library?”
“Yes, so inspiring.”
“That’s what I thought.” She smirked.
“Speaking of that amazing monologue, why aren’t you starring in this thing?” I asked.
“My acting coach suggested trying all the different aspects of theater as a form of growth. That’s exactly how she said it too.”
“I figured.”
She laughed. “Here’s to growth.”
“So,” I said before she expected too much from my audition, “this isn’t my thing and I didn’t know I needed to bring music.”
Girls were trying to walk around Lacey and me to get backstage, so she pulled me to the nearest corner. “That’s okay. People who don’t bring their own music get to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“Nice.”
“Did I see Cooper Wells too? Did you guys come together?”
“Yes.”
She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Oh, no. Not together like that. We’re just friends.”
We both looked across the stage to where Cooper stood staring at us, like he found it weird to see us talking.
“You don’t keep someone who looks like that in the friend zone for too long,” Lacey said.
“Yes, I do, I mean, no, I don’t want . . . didn’t want to. He . . . it’s complicated. Please don’t repeat that,” I added, realizing I’d just revealed more to her than I ever had to Rachel.
“I have no idea what you just said, so I will gladly not repeat it.”
“Thank you.”
She gestured over her shoulder. “I better go. Someone has to run this thing.”
“Okay.”
“Break a leg,” she said and was off.
The next hour went by like someone had pushed a fast-forward button. Lacey would call people out one by one to sing. She and the director would take notes, and then the next person would be up.
Cooper went out before me. I thought he would be nervous, but he smiled at the judging table. “I didn’t bring music,” he said. “But I can sing some Metallica if you want. Or a little MJ.”
I held in my laugh.
“Happy Birthday is fine,” Lacey said.
He nodded, and the piano gave a frilly intro. Then Cooper sang. A few of the girls standing near me giggled.
One behind me said, “He’s nice to look at, but not good on the ears.”
I didn’t think his voice was all that horrible. It wasn’t like the other guys we’d heard who were polished and perfect, but he could carry a tune. When he got to the part where he had to insert a name, he sang Lacey. I peeked around the corner to see her smile at that.
When the piano played its last note, Cooper bowed and left the stage.
Finally, it was my turn. I’d been the one to suggest this, and now my palms were sweating, my heart racing.
A spotlight I hadn’t noticed before shone right in my eyes. I tried to look at Lacey and the director, but I couldn’t see them through the bright haze. I held up my hand to block some of the light.
Lacey gave me the thumbs-up.
“I need to sing Happy Birthday too.”
Without another word, the piano began its opening notes. I dropped my hand and let the light take over my vision. I always thought I was a better singer than Cooper, but there on the big stage in the middle of the even bigger theater, my voice was swallowed whole. I tried to sing louder, but I was already forcing my voice, so it cracked. I was so happy when I sang the last “you” and I rushed offstage.
“Good job,” the girl who’d been mocking Cooper said.
“Really?” I asked.
“You were kind of quiet, but you have a nice voice.”
“Thanks.” A surprising feeling of happiness coursed through me. I peered across the stage to the other side to see if I could get a glimpse of Cooper. He was standing there beaming, and the happiness in my chest expanded even further.
When all the singing was done, we were handed reading parts we had to perform. It felt like we’d been there all day, listening to people with varying degrees of talent read, when finally Lacey dismissed us. She handed out a paper that explained the callback process, and everyone filed toward the doors.
I hooked my arm in Cooper’s and we headed to the exit.
“That was torture,” he said.
“It wasn’t that bad.” It was something new. Something I’d never tried before, and it had pushed me outside my comfort zone to feel nerves I hadn’t felt in a while.
“You have a good singing voice,” he said to me.
“Thanks.”
“I don’t think I realized that before.”
“Abby!” Lacey ran down the aisle toward us. Cooper and I turned to face her. “Hey,” she said, when she stopped in front of us. “I wanted to tell you about a small barbecue I’m having at my house for the Fourth. You should come. Both of you.”
I’d actually heard about Lacey’s parties. There was nothing small about them. She lived in a huge house and threw even bigger parties. We’d never been invited, though. Cooper looked at me. We always watched the fireworks on the pier for the Fourth of July, and I wondered what he thought about this change of itinerary.
“Um,” I said, hesitating. Cooper didn’t say a word, obviously leaving this decision up to me.
“There will be people and food and fireworks. It’ll be fun,” she added.
Maybe I could count it as something from my list. The one about strangers or trying something new. I had to think of five of those, after all. “Okay.”
“Really?” Cooper said under his breath, and I elbowed him.
Lacey took the paper I held about callback information and wrote her name and number on it. “Text me and I’ll give you my address and stuff.”
“Okay.”
Cooper held his tongue until we’d waved good-bye and were outside. “Are you and Lacey friends now?”
“No, I hardly know her.” We hadn’t had a new friend join our group since it originally formed. We all got along too well and were too comfortable with one another to try and force an expansion.
“So no pier this year?” he asked.
“Rachel and Justin aren’t here, so it will already be different. We don’t have to stay at her party long if you don’t want to.”
He shrugged. “Maybe we should. Maybe I’ll bring a date.”
I tried to keep my voice casual when I said, “You might want to ask Lacey first.”
“If she’s just going around inviting random people, I’m sure she’d be fine with it.”
