Rue opens her mouth to respond when Meredith lets out a loud and dramatic sigh. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Sorry,” Rue says automatically, even though she didn’t do anything wrong. She blushes, scrambling for an answer, so I interject.
“If you want, I can be really loud and vocal about how beautiful and perfect I think Rue is. But I figured that might get annoying.”
Meredith’s face heats as she shrugs. But she doesn’t fire a retort for once. Mabel giggles, and Carlton stares at his lunch like it holds the answers to life. I briefly wonder what Dot would think of that, but she’s eating with Zayne and his brother at a different table today.
Rue squeezes my hand. It’s probably just for show. Still, my hand tightens around hers before I can stop myself.
“Are you ready for our first rehearsal tonight?” she asks.
The nerves in my stomach expand. “That’s today?”
“Yeah. After school, silly.”
“Right. I totally forgot.” At least I won’t be missing basketball practice. This is the one day this week we have off.
Meredith cracks her fingers. “I still can’t believe you didn’t audition, Rue.”
“Yeah,” says Mabel. “This is the first time ever, and it’s not going to be the same without you.”
“Thanks,” she says. “But I can’t sing. You guys know I only do plays, not musicals. And I’m finally coming to terms with my situation. I’m actually kind of excited to learn something new.”
Carlton chuckles. “Like how to highlight my good side while I’m onstage?”
“No, I’m doing sound, not lights, remember?”
And I can’t help but add, “You have a good side, Carlton?”
It earns me a glare from the dude. One that pleases me more than it should.
Chapter 13
Rue
Our first few rehearsals don’t involve the sound booth yet. All I have to do is attend the table read and mark my script for the parts I’ll be cuing in sound while everyone reads the entire script aloud. I can’t help but notice how bad the dialogue is, or how amateur the lyrics to the musical numbers are. It isn’tterrible, but when Miss Fern tells everyone she composed the music herself on her computer program, I definitely believe her.
Is anyone going to tell her this isn’t up to par with Fallbrook’s standards?I doubt anyone would, not to her face. At least the scout from Underwood Academy won’t be watching this production since he already selected his choice students to attend when he watched the last play. I’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone from Underwood—the most prestigious acting school in Massachusetts—saw what Miss Fern has planned for our show after all the care Mr. Saltzman put into our past productions.
The following rehearsals are also nice because I get to work on painting sets with the design crew. And as part of the crew, I’ve noticed everyone wears many hats to help with the production. That’s why theater at Fallbrook is so great. Becauseit’s student-led, and the crew does so much more than I ever realized.
Painting is fun. Quiet. Therapeutic. It’s the closest thing I’ve experienced in the drama club to solitude so far. At least, it would feel like solitude if it weren’t for all the giggling and swooning I keep hearing from the ensemble as Ezra teaches them how to incorporate dribbling into their choreography.
“He’s so cute,” Lola whispers to Frankie. But it’s not a very good whisper, because if I can hear it all the way across the room, I’m sure Ezra can, too. Still, Ezra maintains his helpful attitude despite all the giggles. He hands her the ball and motions how to dribble with his empty hands.
I gather up my backpack, my water bottle, and my script—which is currently organized in plastic sleeves within a thick binder—to head up to the sound booth. When I pass Ezra, he sees me struggling to hold onto my binder while taking a sip of water and breaks away from the group he’s mentoring to walk with me. “Hey. Let me help.”
“No, I got it.”
But he ignores me, taking my script. I suppress a smile, but the blush on my cheeks is probably giving me away. As he follows me in, I notice Miss Fern scowling at a giant soundboard that got freshly installed this morning.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“It will be. I just can’t figure out how to work this new soundboard. The previous teacher ordered this replacement before he resigned. But I’m not familiar with this model, which isn’t going to be helpful when it comes time to show you how to use it, Rue.”
Ezra takes a step closer, squinting at the system. “Oh, I could help if you want. That’s the same soundboard we have at my church. I worked with it when I volunteered to help with sound over Christmas.”
Her face lights up. “Really? Oh, that would be great. Thank you, Ezra. I’ll actually just have you up in the sound booth with Rue starting next week until she gets the hang of it, then. That’s when we’re doing our first run-through.”
