Free Jack & Louisa: Act 1 by Andrew Keenan-bolger, Kate Wetherhead Page B

as I did upon entering the lobby of Shaker Heights High on Friday afternoon, where it seemed like the entire town had come to audition for the Players’ production of
Into the Woods
. It was a madhouse—grown-ups, children . . . even a dog was there (though I didn’t exactly know why—maybe that Labrador was auditioning for the Wolf?). There were pairs of people reading scenes by the vending machines, people signing in at a table by the trophy cases, people windmilling their arms and rolling their heads from side to side by the main office. I didn’t remember the auditions for
The Music Man
being this crazy.
    “Were the auditions for
The
Music Man
this crazy?” asked a familiar voice behind me, clearly reading my mind. I turned to see the closest thing to a celebrity the Players had: Denise Zook. Tall and imposing, she wore an eggplant-colored wrap dress and dark-chocolate knee-high boots. She scanned the room with her ice-blue eyes like she owned the place.
    “Hi, Denise,” I murmured, feeling very small. Even though we had acted opposite each other only a year ago, I was still totally intimidated by her.
    “Do you know if the girls’ locker room is open?” she asked.
    “I don’t, sorry.”
    “I like to do my vocal warm-up in one of the shower stalls. Good acoustics, you know?”
    “Sure.”
    I got the sense she was talking
at
me, not
to
me.
    “I’ll check with Barry,” she said assertively. “He’ll let me in even if they’re off-limits to everybody else.”
    I had no idea who Barry was, but that hardly mattered. She would find him and get what she wanted; that’s what it meant to be Denise Zook.
    “Bet you’re glad they decided not to do
Chess
”
were Denise’s parting words as she strode off, confident, beautiful, and terrifying. At this point, auditioning for the Players was just a formality for her. Everyone knew she’d be cast as the Witch in
Into the Woods
, just like everyone had known she’d be cast as Marion in
The Music Man
, Reno Sweeney in
Anything Goes
, Sally Bowles in
Cabaret
 . . . She was really good, and no one believed that more than she did.
    I found myself wishing for an ounce of that trademark Zook confidence as I spotted a girl about my age, her face framed by golden ringlets. She was arranging a red-and-white-checkered napkin across a perfect-looking wicker basket, making it clear she was a contender for Little Red Riding Hood.
Props
—why hadn’t I thought of that? I nervously touched the ends of my French braids, which Mom had crisscrossed with precision then sprayed solidly into place.
    On the ride here, I had felt buzzy with excitement. Now I just felt overwhelmed.
    It didn’t matter that my audition sides were in perfect order or that my lines were highlighted in green (green for trees, trees are in the
woods
). It didn’t matter that I knew Little Red’s song, “I Know Things Now,” backward and forward, that I’d practically been singing it in my sleep for the last week. It didn’t matter that Jenny had read my scenes with me so many times that she almost knew the lines better than I did. And it certainly didn’t matter that I wanted the part more than anything I’d ever wanted in my life—because there was a chance that’s how all of the other girls felt, too. The only thing that mattered was the audition itself. All the dreaming and preparation wouldn’t mean much if I didn’t succeed when it counted.
    “Lou?” My dad’s voice surprised me. I’d forgotten that he’d been parking the car. My parents and I had agreed that it was better for Dad to accompany me to the auditions, even if it meant him having to leave work early. Mom tended to get as nervous in these kinds of situations as I did, while Dad managed to remain cool.
    “You having thought flurries?” he asked, tucking his keys into his pocket.
    “Yeah,” I admitted, allowing myself to smile at his observation.
    Dad had coined that phrase a few years back, in response to the way