Free Act 2 (Jack & Louisa) by Andrew Keenan-bolger, Kate Wetherhead Page B

dad’s. The two swaggered down the hall, followed by a pack of boys wearing nylon warm-ups and hiding their laughter behind their hands. Lou reached down and scooped up the ball.
    “Well, if that’s how you aim,” she said, squeezing the ball, her knuckles beginning to turn white as she scowled at Tanner, “it’s no wonder you guys got creamed at the championship game.”
    “OHHHHHHHH!” the boys wailed, pointing frenzied fingers at Tanner. This was apparently even funnier than pelting the theater geeks with a soccer ball.
    “Yeah . . . well,” Tanner said, suddenly red in the face. “Well, maybe
you
should practice some more high notes!”
    “OHHHHHHHH!” the boys echoed robotically, pointing at Lou, although with less gusto. Their faces looked more confused than anything.
    “Hey, good one, guys,” I said, grabbing the ball out of Lou’s hands, trying to defuse the situation. “Here ya go.”
    I bounced it off my knee and straight into Sebastian’s waiting hands. This, for some reason, made the team giggle even more. Last semester, these boys were my main source of anxiety. Now, I had nothing to hide, but I still went to great lengths to cover up the fact that they pretty much terrified me.
    “Come on, guys,” Tanner said, cocking his head to his teammates.
    Like a well-trained army, they filed into a line and brushed past us. Just as they rounded the corner Belinda leaned in and whispered sharply, “What about those boys?”
    Lou and I looked to each other, confused.
    “Those boys could be my gangsters,” Belinda said urgently.
    “Your what?!” I spit out, sounding slightly more shocked than intended.
    “My gangsters in the show!” she exclaimed. “Harry the Horse, Angie the Ox, Big Jule. Look at them! They’re perfect.”
    I jerked my head over toward Lou, who just stood there, blinking.
    “Those guys,” I said, pointing down the hallway, “do
not
do musicals. Trust me.”
    “Why not?” Belinda said, suddenly taken aback. “It’s thirty-two degrees outside. Soccer season doesn’t start for a few months.”
    “Yeah, but—” Lou tried to interject.
    “They play soccer, so I already know they can kick,” Belinda went on. “A couple of bar stretches and they’ll be in tip-top shape to learn the Crapshooters’ Ballet.”
    “Ballet?!” I cried, shaking my head. “The day the soccer team does ballet is the day that Lake Superior freezes over.”

    “Lake Superior freezes over as a polar vortex sweeps through the Midwest,” the radio weatherman announced as I scarfed down my bowl of granola. “Reaching a full one hundred percent freeze rate for the first time since 1979, residents of Michigan, Ohio, and Indiana are advised to avoid prolonged exposure to the outdoors until the thermometer climbs back up into the double digits.”
    “Are you ready for the dance call today?” my mom asked, looking up from the lunch bag she’d been packing me.
    “I guess so,” I said, swallowing. “I might be the only guy who shows up, so even if I fall on my face, I don’t think it will hurt my chances.”
    “Well, try not to do that,” my dad said, entering the kitchen. “Make sure you warm up first. It’s cold days like these that you’re most likely to injure yourself.”
    “I know, Dad,” I said with a sigh, spooning up the last bit of almond milk from my bowl. “I just hope I’m not alone up there.”

    “Thank you for showing up today,” Belinda said, pacing across the stage looking out into the audience of nervous auditioners. The final ring of the school bell had cued nearly thirty students to pour into the auditorium, an impressive number by Shaker Heights standards, Lou was quick to point out. The only boys I saw were Garett Kirsch (a short boy from my homeroom), Travis Nordin (a skinny eighth-grader), and one boy I didn’t recognize from the sixth grade. Normally I’d be relieved, knowing my chances of getting Nathan Detroit were much better, but with only four guys