Free Curtain Up by Lisa Fiedler Page A

last two names were Elle and Austin. When I read them aloud, Elle blushed. But to her credit, she didn’t flip out or panic or faint. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be having any stage fright issues with Elle.
    â€œWait a minute,” said Eddie, looking up from the sides. “This scene is for a boy and a girl.”
    I shrugged. “So?”
    â€œSo . . . my partner is Sam. He’s a boy.”
    Sam laughed. “Thank you, Captain Obvious, for pointing that out.”
    But I saw the problem now. One of these boys was going to have to play a girl, and something told me Eddie wasn’t going to be open to it.
    â€œWe’ve got the same problem,” said Gracie, pointing to her partner, Jane. “Should we switch with Eddie and Sam?”
    â€œWe could,” I said, knowing in my heart it would be the simplest way to go. “But then again, this is all about acting.”
    â€œRight,” said Austin. “Did you know that in Shakespeare’s time, all the female roles were played by men or boys?”
    â€œWhy?” asked Mackenzie.
    â€œBecause it was against the law for women to be onstage.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” said Madeline. “Hadn’t they ever heard of equal rights?”
    Austin laughed. “Actually, no.”
    â€œSo, if it was good enough for Mr. Shakespeare,” I said, “it should be good enough for us!” I looked from Eddie to Sam, then back to Eddie. “How about one of you plays the opposite gender, just for the audition?”
    â€œWhat?” cried Eddie. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t want to play a girl!”
    â€œAnd I don’t want to play a boy,” added Jane.
    â€œWhat’s the big deal?” said Gracie. “Like Anya said, it’s acting. It might be fun to try playing a boy.”
    â€œI bet I could be hilarious as a girl,” said Sam, warming to the idea. He batted his eyelashes and patted his hair. “Oh no,” he trilled in a falsetto voice. “I think I broke a nail.”
    â€œThat’s insulting!” said Madeline, planting her hands on her hips. “Not all girls are like that.”
    â€œHey, dude!” Gracie said with a rasp, deepening her voice to a hoarse croak. “Check out my muscles! I’m such a tough guy! Anybody got some beef jerky?”
    â€œNot all boys are like that ,” said Teddy. “I hate beef jerky. Although”—he grinned and flexed his biceps—“I do kind ofhave the muscle thing going on.”
    â€œWho wants to go to the mall?” sang Sam in his high voice.
    â€œCut that out!” snapped Jane.
    As the bickering continued, I felt myself losing control of the situation.
    â€œDo something,” said Susan. “Before we have a theatrical mutiny on our hands.”
    She was right. I was the director. It was my job to fix this, but how? The girls were insulted, the boys were getting snarky . . . and none of it had anything to do with acting.
    â€œEverybody, just relax!” I shouted over the escalating quarrel.
    I gave them a minute to simmer down. When I had their attention again, I said calmly, “I agree that not all girls are into manicures and not all boys are muscle heads. But this actually brings up an important point about acting technique. Ya see, if Sam decides that his character is the kind of girl who cries over chipped nail polish, then that’s a valid acting choice. And if Gracie’s boy character is a gym rat who likes to gnaw on artificial beef snacks, then that’s okay too. Granted, these may not be the most original choices, but it is exactly how an actor brings life to a character. It’s called backstory.”
    This backstory stuff was something I’d overheard someof the professional actors discussing once during my Annie experience. It was a cool feeling to be able to put to good use something I’d learned by actually taking part in a