Free Showstopper by Lisa Fiedler Page A

you?”
    â€œWish I could but I can’t.”
    â€œYou can’t? Give me one good reason why not.”
    â€œI’ll give you eighty-eight good reasons why not,” he said. “They’re called piano keys. Think about it, Anya. If I’m onstage, where will the music come from? Joey can’t do it all by himself.”
    As much as I would love to see Austin in a role, I couldn’t argue with that logic.
    Finally we had our cast list. It was a little strange to seeDeon’s and Maxie’s names there. I felt a momentary twinge of panic, wondering if they might not like the idea.
    â€œThey’ll do it, won’t they?” I asked. “You don’t think they’ll refuse, do you?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” said Austin. “But like you said, we can’t force them. The decision is really up to them. All we can do is offer them the parts. After that, the ball’s in their court.”
    His choice of words had me jumping to my feet, as I suddenly remembered I had someplace to be.
    â€œC’mon!” I cried, grabbing Austin’s arm. “D and Maxie aren’t the only ones who’ve got the ball in their court.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” he asked as I dragged him toward the garage to get my bike. “Where are we going?”
    I told him.
    And suddenly Austin was in an even bigger hurry to get there than I was.

CHAPTER
    8
    Austin and I got to the tennis courts just as Becky’s match was about to begin. The Chappaqua Youth Tennis League was playing their biggest rival, Harrison Parks & Rec.
    â€œHey, Mezan!” I called, leaning my bicycle up against the fence and waving. Austin propped his bike next to mine and gave Becky a goofy grin.
    â€œHey!” Becky greeted us with a huge smile. “Glad you guys could make it.”
    â€œWouldn’t miss it,” I said. “Cute skirt.”
    â€œThanks.” She turned to Austin. “Hi, Austin.”
    â€œHi, Becky.”
    They just stood there grinning, and I noticed that for some reason, both of them suddenly looked like they were new to the planet. Like they’d never held a conversation with an actual human being before.
    I was about to break the awkward silence when a whistle blew. The Chappaqua coach waved Becky over.
    â€œI’m up,” said Becky. “Talk to you after the match.”
    â€œGood luck,” said Austin, flashing a terrific smile at Becky.
    Becky’s response was to do something I’d never heard her do before: giggle. For a minute I thought I was hearing things. In the nine and a half years Becky and I had been best friends, I’d heard her laugh, chuckle, crack up, and even snort soda out of her nose in a fit of hilarity. But I had never once heard her giggle . Becky was not the giggling type.
    At least she didn’t used to be.
    But Austin looked like he thought that giggle was the best sound he’d ever heard in his life.
    We found a place along the fence and settled in to watch. The opponent from Harrison was a blond girl wearing a blindingly white pleated tennis dress, and a terry cloth sweatband around her head.
    Becky prepared to serve. She lobbed the ball upward, swung her arm down and around, and sent it flying like a little yellow missile.
    â€œPerfect!” said Austin.
    â€œOut!” yelled the line judge.
    â€œWhat?” cried Austin, furious. “That was so in!”
    It wasn’t. It was out by a mile. Which was strange, becauseBecky flubbing a serve was as unheard of as Becky giggling. When I saw her eyes dart over to where I was standing, it occurred to me that she was nervous. I couldn’t imagine why, since I’d watched her play tennis a zillion times before, and my presence had never flustered her in the least.
    It was a moment before I realized her eyes hadn’t darted to me. . . . They’d darted to Austin.
    Becky took a deep breath, positioned herself