Free Willa by Heart by Coleen Murtagh Paratore Page B

bigger than that. Way bigger than that.
    This girl is in his heart.

CHAPTER 14
Auditions

    We’ve got a lot of pleasures of a kind here: we like the sun comin’ up over the mountain in the morning, and we all notice a good deal about the birds. We pay a lot of attention to them.
    â€”
Our Town
    I wake up the next morning with this queasy feeling inside. What if JFK cares more for Mariel than he is saying? What if they were more than friends? Why did she have to move here to Bramble, anyway? Hyannis is a perfectly good town. Why didn’t her family stay there?
    I pick up
Our Town.
Auditions are this Friday. I know Emily’s lines by heart. I’ve practiced them on the beach, in front of the mirror, in the shower, in bed before I fall asleep. JFK says he’s been practicing too. If all goes well, we’ll be Emily and George.
    ***
    In English on Friday, Sam is standing at his desk with a book, smiling like he can’t wait to begin. “We’ll be studying a very different sort of heroine,” he says. “Miss Janie Crawford in Zora Neale Hurston’s groundbreaking novel
Their Eyes Were Watching God.”
Sam holds up the book like he’s holding up a trophy. “This is a classic that should be as familiar to you as
The Wizard of Oz.
I’d like you to read it over the weekend and come in with three talking points on Monday.”
    â€œMonday,” Tina says. “How many pages is it?”
    Sam opens to the back of the book. “About two hundred.”
    â€œTwo hundred,”
Ruby says. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
    â€œNo,” Sam says, with a kind smile. “I’m not.”
    â€œHow are we going to find the time to do that?” Luke says.
    â€œHmmm.” Sam clears his throat. “Let’s see. You have the whole weekend. And it takes about an hour to read twenty-five pages. I mean really read, making notes in the margin, keeping track of the characters. So, let’s see. Twenty-five pages an hour … two-hundred-page book. Eight hours, right?”
    People groan.
    â€œTrust me”—Sam looks around at each of us—“This book will be worth every minute you give it. Every television show you watch this weekend will fly out of your mind before your alarm rings Monday morning. But a great book like this …” Sam holds up his trophy again. “A great book like this leaves indelible marks.”
    During study hall at the end of the day I finish algebra and open up to the first page of
Their Eyes Were Watching God.
    Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing…. That is the life of men.
    Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember eveything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.
    I reread these first two paragraphs and underline them. “The dream is the truth.” I circle that sentence, and in the margin I write, “The spirit,the hope.” I think that’s what the author means. “The dream is the truth.”
    Sam and Mom are busy making hors d’oeuvres for the social hour when I get home from school. Grilled teriyaki chicken with fresh pineapple on tiny skewers. Spears of fresh asparagus, sliced red pepper, broccoli, chunks of warm, crusty dill bread with creamy ranch dip. We serve complimentary appetizers every evening here at Bramblebriar. On the porch in the summer. By the fireplace in the winter.
    â€œI’m too nervous to eat dinner,” I say.
    â€œHave a sandwich at least,” Sam says.
    â€œYou don’t want to get light-headed on stage,” Mom says.
    I make a half a tuna sandwich, grab some chips and a water, and head up to my room. I look over Emily’s lines again. If the director has us choose a favorite scene to read,