I walk out of Malachi's house after an hour, more confused than ever. I guess I thought he'd tell me what I'm doing wrong and how to fix it.
Once back up at The Edison, I find Gloria, knee-deep in campers learning the opening song toNewsies.
"Hey, what're you doing right now? Wanna help?" Gloria nods to the herd of kids. "We could use some help breaking down the dance steps into smaller groups."
"Sure. Show me what to do, and then I'll take a group."
About an hour later, we're putting the smaller groups back together for a run-through. Surprisingly, "Carrying the Banner" is shaping up quickly.
"I'm so glad you stopped in. You're a lifesaver!" Gloria says. "What are you doing this afternoon? I sure could use you for … everything."
"I think I should totally take the music lessons. It's my forte," I kid.
"You weren't bad at all. But, if you don't mind, I'm gonna put you on dance. You're really good at breaking it down. I like how you say it so the kids can remember it."
My very first dance school, the class I was with for years, was a boatload of fun. Often, to remember different steps, we'd call out what the moves resembled. For instance, when we had to pas de chat, someone would say, "oh, the floor is burning my feet" as we hopped from one foot to the other. I employed the same methods today to help the kids—especially those who are not natural dancers—remember the steps.
"I'm open all week, except for my sessions with Malachi. Oh, by the way, did you know that he doesn't just fix everything for you?"
Gloria laughs. "Um, yeah. I've been in more therapy than I can even count. It's all on you."
"But I want him to just fix me."
"He didn't break you. It's not his job to fix you."
I think about it. She's right. "You know, I'm not sure I'm broken. Definitely bent. But if I was broken, I couldn't be fixed. And that's not an outcome I am willing to accept."
Gloria smiles. "Attagirl. Now, let's get back to work. These paperboys aren't going to form a union all by themselves."
And just like that, I'm in another role here at The Edison. Will wonders never cease?
Chapter 22: Josh
So, Josh, we have something we'd like to discuss with you." Grayson motions for me to sit down in his office.
Oh God, here it comes. The moment I've been waiting for. I may throw up.Stay cool. Stay cool. Stay cool.Sweat pools in my armpits and trickles down my back. My stomach turns over, and not in a good way.
"Oh my God, is it what I think it is? Are you really thinking about doing it? I can't believe you're thinking about it." I can't believe how many times I used the word “think.” I also can't believe how incrediblynot coolthat was.
Grayson smiles. "Henderson and Tabitha would like to produce your show. Here, at The Edison."
Tabitha is in on it too?This is bigger than I thought. I'm definitely going to throw up.
"Okay," I say, my voice high and strained. So much for staying cool. I sound like a twelve-year-old going through puberty.
"We're thinking of something new. Henderson would like to expand The Edison's season, and we're thinking maybe the beginning of November."
The feeling of excitement turns to full-on nausea as doubt and panic take over.Honor Codeisn't finished yet. I've written the music, but still have yet to do the full orchestration. The script needs work. I'd planned to get someone to take a look at it and help me with it. There's no choreography to it, and I'm not even sure the songs are any good.
"Sure," I squeak out. "Totally. November. That's a super reasonable timeline."
Grayson breaks into his trademark grin. "Dude, you're sweating bullets. You know and I know November is out of the question."
"You didn't saywhichNovember." I cover quickly.
He laughs. "Good point. In reality, we're thinking March. Get through the worst of the winter weather before we are scheduled to open."
It's the beginning of July. March, a mere eight months away,mightbe doable. That is, if I don't eat, sleep, or breathe anything butHonor Code. No biggie. It's only the defining moment of my career.
