Free All the Way by Megan Stine

girls together,” Ariel said.
    Could I really put up with three solid weeks of being joked about for being a Hot Box girl?
    â€œI don’t know.” I shook my head reluctantly.
    â€œWell, whatever,” Ariel said, heading toward the auditorium. “I’m going to do it. I’m not too proud to take whatever part I can get.”
    Too proud?
    No way.
    I hurried to catch up with her, and we walked into the auditorium, where everyone had grouped into two clumps: the Chosen, and the Not Chosen.
    â€œAll right, thanks for coming, everyone,” Mr. Richards called out. “And congratulations to the cast. We’re going to have a wonderful production this year, and I know you’re all ready to work hard, since we were forced into a shorter rehearsal time, thanks to my appendectomy. So we only have three weeks to pull this production together. Leads, I’m going to ask you to sit in the back and start learning your lines while I work with the chorus people.”
    Then he started walking straight toward me.
    Mr. Richards was a tall, slim, decent-looking man in his thirties. His trademark was a pair of red-rimmed glasses he wore, that he was always pushing up into his wavy black and prematurely gray hair.
    He pushed them up now, as he strode up to me and said, “Carmen, can I talk to you in private a minute?”
    â€œPrivate?” I don’t know why, but everything he said made me nervous.
    â€œLet’s just step over there.” He motioned to the empty side aisle.
    What now? I wondered. And then suddenly I knew. He was going to tell me that I was the one person who wasn’t welcome to join the chorus. My audition had sucked so much, he just couldn’t let me anywhere near the stage, and he was sending me home.
    I braced myself for the worst.
    He walked into the side aisle, then turned to face me with a let’s-get-down-to-business expression.
    â€œCarmen, I wanted to tell you first off that I know you have a nice voice,” he said. “Your audition was a mess, but I suspect something else was going on yesterday . . .”
    I started to open my mouth to explain, but he shook his head.
    â€œNever mind, it doesn’t matter,” he cut me off. “Look, some of the best actresses on Broadway are disasters at auditioning. It’s a whole separate talent—some people can do it, some can’t. But that’s not the point. The point is, I heard you sing, and your voice is fine. You can certainly be in the chorus if you want to.”
    He paused for just a moment to let that sink in, but not long enough for me to say anything.
    â€œBut what struck me yesterday,” he went on, “is that you have an amazing fashion and costume design sense. Your costume for Miss Adelaide was just perfect. So I was wondering . . . I would consider it a personal favor to me if, instead of joining the chorus, you would agree to run the costume department for the musical.”
    â€œReally?” My eyes opened wide, taking this new idea in. “I mean . . .”
    â€œYou wouldn’t have to make all the costumes or anything like that,” he added quickly. “We generally go to a theatrical costume rental house for most pieces, and a few parents will pitch in to do some sewing if we need it. But I’d like to put you in charge of pulling the whole thing together. You’d decide what each performer would wear, and you’d scout around for accessories. You know, coordinate the whole thing so it looks good. And then you’d work backstage during the performances, making sure all the costumes and accessories are in place. What do you think?”
    I was so surprised, it took me a minute to shift gears. But then I nodded. “Yeah. That sounds great!” I said, feeling really flattered.
    A huge smile spread across his face. “Really? That’s excellent! It’s a burden off my shoulders, I’ll tell you, to have someone like you