what’s going on. She’s smiling too. “Just watch,” she says.
It turns out this kid, Raj, spends his summers at circus camp, and he recites his entire speech—slowly, clearly, without mistakes—while juggling two oranges and a pen. He has a rubbery face, laughs easily, makes people laugh, and sings in a sweet, weak tenor. He’s the grade twelve class clown, and he’s perfect.
Slowly we make our way through all the characters, watching and listening, and sometimes trying not to listen, and taking notes. The only remaining surprise comes when we cast Goneril and Regan, the evil sisters. Mr. Harris suggests that to save time we ask the students to go up in pairs, so we can cast two sisters who look right together. I’m scribbling notes in my lap when Regan says, “Isn’t that your sister?”
Sure enough, Dexter and Mean Megan are just climbing the steps to the stage.
“I can’t believe you won’t tell me,” Dexter says that night at supper.
After the casting call, we went back to Mr. Harris’s office and made our final decisions. Mr. Harris said he would type up the list and post it on his door on Monday, and we should keep things confidential until then.
I hold up my hands as if she’s trying to rob me with a gun. “I’m not allowed!”
“It’s a matter of national security,” Dad says, nodding sagely. Then he pretends to look confused. “No, wait. No, it isn’t.”
“Mom!” I say.
“Mom!” Dex says.
Now Mom holds up her hands as if we’re both turning guns on her. “I think if the teacher asked Edie not to say anything, we all have to respect that.”
“Thank you,” I say.
After supper, while Dex is in the bathroom, Mom grabs me. “Did she get the part?”
“Mom!” I say, shocked.
“I know. But Dex is going through such a rough time right now. First that thing with Robert, and now this play, which she really, really wants, believe it or not, and to getit she has to get past you. You have to know that is a bit—unusual for her.”
“ Dex is going through a rough time right now?”
“I’m ready, Mom,” Dex says, suddenly appearing. She’s got her shoes and coat on and her school knapsack packed to bulging.
“I’m getting my coat right now,” Mom says.
“Where are you going?”
“Dex is going to Merry’s for a sleepover,” Mom says.
On Monday, I drop by Mr. Harris’s office at different times throughout the day, but there’s always such a crowd in front of the door that I can’t get anywhere near it. I know what it says, though: Quinn is Lear, Raj is the Fool, a girl named Nathalie, one of the best singers, is Cordelia. Mean Megan is Goneril.
“I don’t think Edie should have any say in this one,” Regan had said in Mr. Harris’s office. “She can’t judge her own sister objectively.”
“That’s fair,” I said, feeling relieved. I would be able to tell Dexter I had nothing to do with it, and she wouldn’t feel as if she had to thank me.
“Megan has the perfect look,” Regan said. “And I liked that red-haired girl for the other sister. She was kind of funny and witchy at the same time.”
“I agree,” Mr. Harris said.
They must have seen something on my face.
“Sorry, Edie,” Regan said. “But Dexter can’t sing to save her life.”
“But—”
“Ah,” Mr. Harris said sharply.
I don’t see Dexter in the halls anywhere today, which is one good thing. But when I get home, Mom is waiting, tight-lipped, whispering. Dexter came home early, she says, with a headache, and is lying down now, hopefully sleeping. That’s Dex-code for still crying.
I tell her about Regan and Mr. Harris not letting me have a say in the decision.
“Okay,” Mom says.
“I wouldn’t do that to her!” I say.
“Okay,” Mom says.
Mom must have a word with Dex, because she comes out of her room just before supper and comes straight to me and says she understands it wasn’t my decision.
“Dex, it wasn’t,” I say.
“Like I care, anyway,”
It turns out this kid, Raj, spends his summers at circus camp, and he recites his entire speech—slowly, clearly, without mistakes—while juggling two oranges and a pen. He has a rubbery face, laughs easily, makes people laugh, and sings in a sweet, weak tenor. He’s the grade twelve class clown, and he’s perfect.
Slowly we make our way through all the characters, watching and listening, and sometimes trying not to listen, and taking notes. The only remaining surprise comes when we cast Goneril and Regan, the evil sisters. Mr. Harris suggests that to save time we ask the students to go up in pairs, so we can cast two sisters who look right together. I’m scribbling notes in my lap when Regan says, “Isn’t that your sister?”
Sure enough, Dexter and Mean Megan are just climbing the steps to the stage.
“I can’t believe you won’t tell me,” Dexter says that night at supper.
After the casting call, we went back to Mr. Harris’s office and made our final decisions. Mr. Harris said he would type up the list and post it on his door on Monday, and we should keep things confidential until then.
I hold up my hands as if she’s trying to rob me with a gun. “I’m not allowed!”
“It’s a matter of national security,” Dad says, nodding sagely. Then he pretends to look confused. “No, wait. No, it isn’t.”
“Mom!” I say.
“Mom!” Dex says.
Now Mom holds up her hands as if we’re both turning guns on her. “I think if the teacher asked Edie not to say anything, we all have to respect that.”
“Thank you,” I say.
After supper, while Dex is in the bathroom, Mom grabs me. “Did she get the part?”
“Mom!” I say, shocked.
“I know. But Dex is going through such a rough time right now. First that thing with Robert, and now this play, which she really, really wants, believe it or not, and to getit she has to get past you. You have to know that is a bit—unusual for her.”
“ Dex is going through a rough time right now?”
“I’m ready, Mom,” Dex says, suddenly appearing. She’s got her shoes and coat on and her school knapsack packed to bulging.
“I’m getting my coat right now,” Mom says.
“Where are you going?”
“Dex is going to Merry’s for a sleepover,” Mom says.
On Monday, I drop by Mr. Harris’s office at different times throughout the day, but there’s always such a crowd in front of the door that I can’t get anywhere near it. I know what it says, though: Quinn is Lear, Raj is the Fool, a girl named Nathalie, one of the best singers, is Cordelia. Mean Megan is Goneril.
“I don’t think Edie should have any say in this one,” Regan had said in Mr. Harris’s office. “She can’t judge her own sister objectively.”
“That’s fair,” I said, feeling relieved. I would be able to tell Dexter I had nothing to do with it, and she wouldn’t feel as if she had to thank me.
“Megan has the perfect look,” Regan said. “And I liked that red-haired girl for the other sister. She was kind of funny and witchy at the same time.”
“I agree,” Mr. Harris said.
They must have seen something on my face.
“Sorry, Edie,” Regan said. “But Dexter can’t sing to save her life.”
“But—”
“Ah,” Mr. Harris said sharply.
I don’t see Dexter in the halls anywhere today, which is one good thing. But when I get home, Mom is waiting, tight-lipped, whispering. Dexter came home early, she says, with a headache, and is lying down now, hopefully sleeping. That’s Dex-code for still crying.
I tell her about Regan and Mr. Harris not letting me have a say in the decision.
“Okay,” Mom says.
“I wouldn’t do that to her!” I say.
“Okay,” Mom says.
Mom must have a word with Dex, because she comes out of her room just before supper and comes straight to me and says she understands it wasn’t my decision.
“Dex, it wasn’t,” I say.
“Like I care, anyway,”
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