Jack & Louisa: Act 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

had drained from her face, her lips trembling as if searching for a polite response. I’d imagined this would be the time when my challenger would begin a slow clap, admitting defeat to the new kid who just threw down, but under the bright Ohio sun, on a suburban driveway, in a shirt a size too small, I realized how utterly ridiculous I must have looked. As she stood gawking in disbelief, I felt an invisible egg dripping down my face.
What had I just done?
    The silence was broken by the sound of a hundred sprinklers turning on. The neighborhood lawns filled with a mist of water as a similar wave of embarrassment washed over me. I turned around and stormed up the pavement to my house. I could feel Louisa’s stare piercing into my back. I knew she was frozen, jaw on the ground, waiting for an explanation, but my heart was pounding so hard and my face was pumping with blood so hot that I didn’t dare turn around. I swung open the door and slammed it shut behind me, blocking out the sounds of the sprinklers, the passing cars, and the new girl who had probably begun rolling with laughter on my sidewalk. It’d only be a matter of time before it spread around the neighborhood that the “new kid” not only brags about being on Broadway, but if prodded will perform a silly little dance. I was humiliated.
    “Jack, looks like you’ve already made a friend,” I heard my mom say from the kitchen.
    I stood in shock wondering how much she had seen.
    “Did I see you teaching her some of ‘Supercal’? How did that come about?” she asked, entering the room smiling, carrying a stack of books.
    “She, um . . . she’s like a fan of the cast recording or something,” I mumbled.
    “That’s
wonderful
! Who’d have guessed we’d move in down the street from a fellow theater lover?”
    “Ask her if she wants to help carry in some of your boxes,” my dad called from the basement.
    I ignored him, trying to catch my breath.
    “Is there a bathroom upstairs?” I asked.
    “Oh, did you not see? You have your own bathroom attached to your bedroom,” my mom said, setting the books next to the staircase. “Can you believe how much space we have?” She was glowing. For the first time I could see how desperate she was to make me feel at home. She was still the same mom who took me on auditions and would celebrate by bringing home Chubby Hubby ice cream when I booked a job. This cornball Midwestern act she was putting on was for
my
benefit. At the end of the day she just wanted me to be happy again. I managed to muscle out a tight-lipped smile before heading upstairs.
    My room was empty except for the mattress, now lying like an upholstered island in the middle of the floor. I walked over to a door in the corner, what I had assumed was another closet, and turned the handle. Once I flipped the light switch, my eyes caught my reflection in the mirror above the sink. My hair was sweaty and messed up. My face was red, a mixture of exertion and embarrassment. My eyes traveled down to the logo on the front of my shirt, the silhouette of a woman with an umbrella, faded and peeling from nights tossing in bed and countless tumbles in Laundromat dryers. I remembered begging my mom to buy it for me when we first saw the show, weeks before my audition. I wore it to school constantly and even hid it under my polo shirt at my final callback. Until that moment, I guess I’d considered it a good-luck charm. I grabbed the bottom of the shirt and yanked it over my head. I scrunched it into a ball and tossed it into the garbage can under the sink.

–LOUISA–
    Prove it?
Prove it?!
What kind of person would
say
that?
An awful, terrible person
, I thought as I walked hurriedly down the street toward my house in a panic, horrified by my behavior.
Prove it?
I had never spoken those words to anyone, let alone a virtual stranger. I might as well have screamed “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” then shoved him onto the ground. My palms were sweaty, and my