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Wait. What? ROSAGUNDE?
“Yes,” Grandmère went on. “Rosagunde, the current princess of Genovia’s great-great-great-great, and so on grandmother, who exhibited incredible bravery in the face of adversity, and was eventually rewarded for her efforts with the throne of what is today Genovia.”
Oh. My. God.
Grandmère’s written a play based on the story of my ancestress, Rosagunde.
AND SHE WANTS MY SCHOOL TO PUT IT ON.
IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.
“Braid! is, at heart, a love story. But the tale of the great Rosagunde is much more than a romance. It is, in fact—” Here, Grandmère paused, as much for dramatic effect as to take a sip from the glass on the table beside her. Water? Or straight vodka? We will never know. Not unless I had gone up there and taken a big swig. “—A MUSICAL.”
Oh. My. God.
Grandmère’s written a MUSICAL based on the story of my ancestress, Rosagunde.
The thing is, I love musicals. Beauty and the Beast is, like, my favorite Broadway show of all time, and it’s a musical.
But it is a musical about a prince who is under a curse and the bookish beauty who grows to love him anyway.
It is NOT about a feudal warmonger and the girl who strangles him to death.
Apparently, I was not the only one to realize this, since Lilly’s hand shot up and she called, “Excuse me.”
Grandmère looked startled. She isn’t used to being interrupted once she gets going on one of her speeches.
“Please hold all questions until the end,” Grandmère said confusedly.
“Your Royal Highness,” Lilly said, ignoring her request. “Is what you’re telling us that this show, Braid!, is actually the story of Mia’s great-great-great and so on grandmother Rosagunde, who, in the year AD 568, was forced to wed the Visigothic warlord Alboin, who conquered Italy and claimed it as his own?”
Grandmère bristled, the way Fat Louie does whenever I run out of Flaked Chicken or Tuna and have to give him some other flavor of food, like Turkey Giblets, instead.
“That is exactly what I am trying to tell you,” Grandmère said stiffly. “If you will allow me to continue.”
“Yeah,” Lilly said. “But a MUSICAL? About a woman who is forced to marry a man who not only murders her father, but on their wedding night makes her drink from her dad’s skull, and so consequently, she murders him in his sleep? I mean, isn’t that kind of material a little bit HEAVY for a musical?”
“And a musical set in a military base during World War Two isn’t a bit HEAVY? I believe they chose to call that one South Pacific,” Grandmère said, with an arched brow. “Or a musical about urban gang warfare in New York City during the fifties? West Side Story, I believe that one was called….”
Everyone in the room started murmuring—everyone except Señor Eduardo, who appeared to have dozed off. I had never thought about it before, but Grandmère was kind of right. A lot of musicals have kind of serious undertones, if you take the time to examine them. I mean, if you wanted to, you could say that Beauty and the Beast is about a hideously warped Chimera who kidnaps and holds hostage a young peasant girl.
Trust Grandmère to destroy the one story I have ever wholeheartedly loved.
“Or even,” Grandmère went on, above everyone’s whispers, “perhaps, a musical about the crucifixion of a man from Galilee…a little something called Jesus Christ Superstar?”
Gasps could be heard throughout the ballroom. Grandmère had scored a coup de grâce, and knew it. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand.
All but Lilly.
“Excuse me,” Lilly said again. “But exactly when is this, erm, musical going to be performed?”
It was only then that Grandmère looked slightly—just slightly—uncomfortable.
“A week from today,” she said, with what I could tell was completely feigned self-assurance.
“But, Dowager Princess,” Lilly cried, above the gasps and
murmurs of all present—except Señor Eduardo, of course, who was still snoozing. “You can’t possibly expect the cast to memorize an entire show by next week. I mean, we’re students—we have homework. I, personally, am the editor of the school literary magazine, of which I intend to print Volume One, Issue One, next week. I can’t do all that AND memorize an entire play.”
