one old friend since moving to Maryland.
I was hoping that Nicole or Carmen or Kerrie would continue with questions about Sadie’s family, her old school, and what she was doing at Doug’s last night, but the effervescent Hilary chimed in with her requests for try-outs for the show.
“Everybody’s going to do it,” she said breathlessly. Hilary only knew how to speak breathlessly. She didn’t have any other way of communicating. “You ought to come. It would be a great way to meet people.”
Sadie smiled, and it was a genuine smile, which made me feel both good and guilty at the same time. I was, after all, human, and I knew it must be tough to try to fit in at a new school all the way across the country from what had been familiar. So, my heart went out to her and wanted to make her feel wanted. But on the other hand, I had only invited her to eat with us because I wanted information, so I also felt two-faced. To make up for my moral deficiencies, I decided to be as hospitable as Hilary had been and then some.
“Yes, you should come,” I said with conviction. “I’ve heard you sing in chorus and you’ve got a great voice.”
Sadie beamed at that compliment and her face took on the same look she had sported when I first invited her to sit with us—a sort of desperate joyfulness. “Thanks,” she said shyly.
A T THREE o’clock, we were all sitting in rows in the auditorium, snickering and giggling and kicking at each other’s seats. Doug had come in with some of his friends and Kerrie was skillful enough to get up at just that moment and move us all down a few seats so that he could sit next to me. Which he did. I needed oxygen.
Well, not really. But I did blush with nervousness as his elbow glanced against mine on the armrest between us. He smiled at me again, and asked me if I had ever been in a show before.
“Just in grade school,” I said.
And I gave a stellar performance too, I thought, as one of the shepherds in the Christmas tableau. Of course, it would have been even better if I hadn’t snagged Joseph’s fake beard with my crook and he hadn’t fallen over the creche trying to reach for it, but then again Mary didn’t have to let out a mild expletive when he stepped on her sore toe and pulled down the set when he grabbed for something to keep his balance. It wasn’t my fault he thought the painted canvas stable was steady enough to support him.
But I kept this nostalgic memory to myself.
“I was in ‘On the Town’ my sophomore year,” Doug said in a low voice that sent a shiver up my spine. “It was fun.”
The room hushed as Mrs. Williston called out the first name from the roster of those of us who had signed up. A timid-looking freshman with bright red hair went up to the stage after giving some music to old Mr. Baker, the accompanist. Then she started to belt out “Tomorrow” from Annie and was actually pretty good, but we all hated that song, and were super glad when it was over. Mrs. Williston had the girl read a few lines, then called out the next name, and the next and the next.
Most of the kids were, like us, new recruits with nothing special planned. Mrs. Williston asked such auditioners to sing the first verse of the school song, which got kind of embarrassing because a lot of us didn’t really have it committed to memory. She gave up on that after a few tries and just asked for the first verse of “Silent Night” from then on.
Hilary, of course, was the star of the auditions, singing YumYum’s aria with perfect poise. When even Mrs. Williston burst into applause, there was no doubt she had the part. When my turn came, my knees were knocking so hard I was afraid they’d throw Mr. Baker’s rhythm off, but I managed to chirp out a verse of the Christmas carol without completely embarrassing myself. I’d get picked for chorus for sure. I could tell from Mrs. Williston’s “thank you” she clearly wanted me to know I was welcome in her troupe, just not too