“Is that right?” Katy crossed her arms. “You’re an actor, then?”
“No, no.” He made a sound that suggested theater would be beneath him. “Stanley Gaelic. I’m an RPSer. Hitting the big time next month.” He thrust his chest out. “Probably one of the best in the world.”
Katy blinked. “An RPSer?”
“Oh, right.” He touched Katy’s arm. “I always forget. Not everyone’s up to speed on their RPS knowledge.” He held his left hand out, palm up, and pounded it firmly with his right fist. “You know, rock-paper-scissors.”
From twenty feet away, Rhonda grinned at her and made the cuckoo sign.
“Really?” Katy shifted back to Stanley. “So you mean—” she put her hand out this time and hit it with her fist—“they have competitions for rock-paper-scissors?”
“Competitions?” Stanley rolled his eyes as if Katy might be the least informed person on the planet. “We’re talking huge here, Katy. ESPN covered our last contest and, well . . .” He brought his knuckles to his lips and blew hard. “Let’s just say among RPSers, you’re talking to someone, you know, pretty famous.”
Katy could feel herself starting to laugh. “But, Stanley—” she bit the inside of her lip—“isn’t it just luck?” She pounded her open hand three times and made the scissors symbol. “It’s not like there’s strategy, right?”
“Luck?” Stanley’s face fell. He took a half step back. “It’s the ultimate athletic competition. It’s all strategy. Luck has nothing to do with it.” He stuck out his chest again. “It’s about timing and rhythm and the ability to read a person’s mind.” He moved closer, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m very good at that. In fact, my mother always said I had the lion’s share of talent in the family.” He plucked at his shirt in a mock show of humility. “Not to brag or anything. We RPSers are a special group, you know?” He raised his brow a few times. “And from what I hear, you’re a special girl.”
“Right.” She managed a weak chuckle. What was it about her and guys? Was this what she had to choose from? Katy caught a glimpse of Rhonda and Nancy, their heads together, giggling. She shot Rhonda a look that said she’d pay her back for this one.
Stanley was going on, something about the judges being partial to guys with nice hair.
Katy held up her hand. “Uh . . .” She looked at her watch. The kids were getting antsy, the excitement at a fever pitch. She raised her voice so he could hear her. “I’d love to hear more about it, Stan, but I need to get auditions under way here.”
“Never Stan, Katy.” He took firm hold of her shoulder and leaned closer. “For us RPSers there’s only one Stan. Stan the Man Scissors Hand, we call him.” He did an awkward bow, one that looked difficult to do in his tight jeans. “I’m Stanley. Manly Stanley, actually.” He straightened. “Did I mention that I’m the Indiana state RPS champion?” He cocked his head. “You know what they say about RPS champions, don’t you?”
Katy wasn’t waiting to find out. “Later, Stanley.” She clenched her teeth so she wouldn’t fall to the floor laughing. “I need to get going.”
“Right.” He pointed both his index fingers at her and shot a kiss in her direction. “We’ll be talking afterwards then. I’m on a tight schedule, getting ready for the national meet, you know.” He held out his palm and hit it three times, ending with his hand flat. “But you’re in luck. I’m off tonight.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rhonda drop to the nearest seat. She was bent over laughing.
Katy’s mouth hung open. “Well . . . uh, maybe not tonight.” She took three steps backward. “But sometime, okay?”
“Oh.” Stanley’s hands fell slowly to his side, and his shoulders slumped forward a little. “My practice schedule’s tight this week, but yeah, we could work something out.”
“Sure.” She waved her fingers at him, turned her attention back to the kids, and said in a raised voice, “Okay, everyone, I need you all quiet. The first ten get in a line here in front of the room. Let’s get started.”
Rhonda was already seated at the table. She was still snickering. “Sorry.” She moved closer to Katy, her voice low. “About Stanley, I mean.”
“Not Stanley,” Katy whispered. “Manly Stanley.” She kicked Rhonda under the table. “I’ll pay you back. There’s a neighbor of the Flanigans looking for a nice girl for their son. He’s out of jail now, but at least he’s driving again. Bicycles, that is.”
“Oooh, the anger.” Rhonda giggled. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
The first child was taking the stage, a darling boy with a baby face and big blue eyes. A hush fell across the room, and the boy came to the end of the platform. “Hi.” He flashed a gap-toothed smile at Katy. “My name’s Kyle Lanham. I’m eight years old, and I’ll be singing ‘I’m Flying’ from Peter Pan.”
Katy positioned her yellow notepad in front of her and nodded at Kyle. One of the mothers was set up at the back of the stage. She clicked a series of buttons on the CD player, and the music started. Kids younger than eight years old couldn’t audition for CKT performances, so Katy rarely expected anything spectacular from the younger set. It was enough that they were willing to get in front of an audience and sing. Rarely did one of them stand out.
But Kyle was the exception.
His voice was sweet and clear, his eyes big and full of expression. When he reached the part where he sang, “I can fly, I can fly, I can fly!” an appreciative chuckle passed over the audience behind Katy. The kid had that certain intangible—a stage presence that couldn’t be manufactured.
The orphans in Annie were usually cast as a group of little girls. But this boy definitely deserved a callback. When he finished singing, Katy smiled at him and then on her pad scribbled, Kyle Lanham, crowd-pleaser. Definite callback.
Sarah Jo Stryker was in the first ten and was—as always—flawless. She sang an upbeat song, “The Wizard and I,” a fun tune from the new Broadway musical Wicked. The entire time she sang, Katy kept asking herself the obvious question: How can a twelve-year-old sing like that?
Still, Sarah Jo had shot up recently and unless Katy and Rhonda and the Helmeses rethought their casting plan, Sarah Jo was too tall to play Annie. Katy could only imagine the verbal tirade that would come from Alice Stryker once that fact was revealed. Either way Sarah Jo definitely earned a callback, and Katy wrote as much on her notepad.
In the next group of ten, two girls sang “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid. Katy was pretty sure this last girl in the group was also going to sing the same song. She stood and took small steps toward the stage. She was wearing a skintight, ankle-length spandex skirt covered in scalelike sequins. She looked more like a mermaid than Ariel ever did.
The girl was tall and gangly with a mouthful of braces. As she made her way up onto the platform, the skirt kept her from taking the last step. Unable to get her foot all the way up, she toppled like a felled tree and landed on her elbows, sprawled on the stage.
A gasp came from the crowd, and Katy was on her feet, sprinting to the girl. Because of the skirt, there was no way the poor thing could get up gracefully. She could barely manage to get herself halfway into a sitting position.
“Oh, boy,” Katy muttered under her breath. She was too short to help the girl, so she motioned for one of the dads sitting a few rows back. The man ran up, but still there seemed no easy way to get the girl on her feet.
“I can’t believe this.” Tears splashed onto the girl’s cheeks. “I told my mother this would happen.” Her voice was low, mortified. She closed her eyes as if maybe she would open them and the whole thing would be a bad dream.
“Honey, how about if you ease your legs behind you.” Katy tried to push the girl’s feet back, but because of the slippery spandex, the move sent her sprawling onto her stomach. She landed with a splat. “Oooh, sorry.” Katy held her hands out and gave a wide-eyed look to the father. “I’m not sure how . . .”
Meanwhile nearly everyone in the room was silen
t, shocked in a way that made the drama onstage that much more horrible. Only a few kids in the back of the room were stifling a low round of giggles.
“Let’s see.” The dad scratched his head. “She needs her feet in front of her. Let’s roll her over.” He helped move her feet back around so they were now sticking straight out. This allowed her to sit up partway, though she kept sliding forward. “How ’bout I lift her.” He stuck his hands beneath her arms and nodded at Katy. “Don’t let her feet slide forward.”
Katy acted as a brace for the girl’s feet, and in a move not unlike the raising of a barn wall, he pushed her up and onto her feet. Once she was standing, Katy thanked the father, who hurried back to his seat. The audience was still silent.
“I’m going home.” The girl’s voice was pinched, her cheeks still wet.
“Now wait.” Katy put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “You worked hard on your song, didn’t you?”
The girl dragged the backs of her hands across her cheeks. “Yes. I . . . I wanted to look the part, but I told my mother the skirt was too tight.”
“Okay, now listen.” Katy kept her voice low. “I say you leave everyone with a different memory than the one they just watched.” She forced herself to sound calm. “I’ll go back to the table, and you give me the best song you’ve ever sung.”
“Really?” The girl sniffed. She straightened her skirt and adjusted her shirt.
“Yes, really.” Katy smiled. “These things happen.” She motioned to the crowd. “Everyone here knows that.”
The girl’s eyes looked a little better. She held Katy’s gaze and slowly nodded. “Okay. You’re right. I want them to remember my song.”
“All right, then.” Katy gave the girl’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. Their voices were still hushed, too quiet for the others to hear. “Good girl. I’m proud of you.” Katy turned and nodded at the crowd; then she returned to her seat.
Rhonda stared at the girl and gave a slow shake of her head. In a voice that was barely audible, she said, “I didn’t just see that.”
“Me, either,” Katy whispered. Her heart was still racing. She wanted to lead the girl off the stage and help her find a place where she could get out of that silly skirt. Instead she sat down, straightened herself, and nodded at the girl. “Go ahead, please.”
A few painful seconds passed while the girl cleared her throat and glanced around the sanctuary. Then with her eyes focused on Katy’s, she began. “Hi. My name’s Maria Pullman. I’m thirteen years old, and I’ll be singing ‘Part of Your World’ from The Little Mermaid.”
Maria’s first few bars were shaky, but after that, the song filled the sanctuary, growing and building and leaving a smile on the girl’s face as she finished.
As soon as the song ended, the CKT kids were on their feet, cheering for a girl most of them probably didn’t know. Two fathers ran up and helped her off the stage, easing her down the stairs, where she fell into the arms of her mother and made her way slowly up the aisle and out of the sanctuary.
“Well—” Katy turned to Rhonda—“nothing will surprise me after that.”
“She gets a callback, right?” Rhonda had her pen poised over her own scoring sheet.
“Absolutely.” Katy looked over her shoulder, and somewhere near the back, Stanley stood and waved at her. She gave a weak wave in return and looked at Rhonda. “Manly Stanley’s watching my every move.” She lowered her chin. “Whadya do, tell him I had a thing for RSPers?”
Rhonda giggled. “RPSers. And I told him you liked guys with talent.”
“Thanks.” Katy elbowed her friend. “Coffee on you tonight.”
Tim Reed was first up in the next set of ten and gave a flawless audition. After four more singers, it was time for the new boy, the one the girls were fussing over. He had loose brown curls that hung just over his ears, and he was tall, built like a college quarterback.
“Hi.” He nodded at Katy and Rhonda. His speaking voice was so strong and smooth, Katy had no doubt the kid could sing. When he smiled, two dimples appeared beneath his bright blue eyes. “My name’s Bryan Smythe. I’m sixteen, and I’ll be singing ‘King of New York’ from Newsies.”
From behind her, Katy could hear several girls squeal. Rhonda tapped her beneath the table and uttered a low, “Please.”
Katy kept herself from rolling her eyes. It was always difficult when a cute new boy came into CKT. The girls stayed distracted for weeks before getting focused on the production. She settled back in her chair and waited. As soon as Bryan began singing, Katy had to work to keep her mouth closed. No wonder the girls couldn’t keep quiet. The kid had a Josh Groban voice that could stop traffic in New York City.
When he was finished, Katy thanked him, turned toward the girls, and fanned herself. Several of them burst into laughter. “What?” She tried to look surprised. “It’s hot in here!” The girls laughed again, and Katy gave them a silly, knowing look. She loved this part, playing with them, meeting them at their level.
The next three groups made it up and off the platform over the next hour. Bailey and Connor Flanigan, the kids whose family Katy lived with, both turned in their best auditions ever. It made callbacks easier when the kids clearly earned a second audition. No one could ever accuse Katy of playing favorites. In the next set of ten, four more girls sang “Part of Your World.”
By the time the last girl announced it as her song, Katy cracked her neck, first one way then the other. “What’s the deal with the mermaid songs?” she whispered to Rhonda.
“I feel like I’m growing fins.”
“If you do—” Katy covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud—“don’t go onstage.”
Rhonda smiled, and they directed their attention toward the front of the room. One of the older boys who had played key parts in several plays was up next. This time, though, he couldn’t seem to find his place in the song. Twice he asked if he could start over, and both times Katy said yes. The song was “Music of the Night” from The Phantom of the Opera, and once the boy found his starting place, he sang five words and his voice trailed off.
He shot a helpless look at Katy. “I forgot the words.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Could I try once more?”
“Um . . .” The situation was a little sticky. Katy could hardly allow each of the hundred and thirty-some kids to have second and third and fourth attempts at their songs. But since he could usually sing so well, she nodded. “Once more, okay?”
“Okay.” The boy rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans. This time the music began and he found the right starting place. But once more he lost the words halfway through the first line. A frown filled his face, and he squinted at the audience. “Does anyone know that next line?”
Katy’s mouth fell open. Asking the audience for help was definitely not allowed. “Okay, thank you.” She nodded to the boy. Her heart hurt for him, but she couldn’t give him any more attempts. “Five-minute break, everyone.”
She watched the boy take his music and walk dejectedly off the stage. And then something happened that put a lump in Katy’s throat. At the bottom of the stairs, the boy was met by six of his friends, kids who had been in CKT since the beginning. Together they dashed over from where they were sitting and formed a cluster around him, hugging him and letting him know that he might’ve blown an audition, but they still loved him, still wanted to be his friend.
The scene made Katy’s eyes water. Okay, God, You keep showing me why I’m here and not in Hollywood. But what about my Annie? Please let there be an Annie out there somewhere.
Do not be anxious about anything, my daughter.
The response was so quick, so certain that Katy jumped a little in her seat. The words were part of a verse in Philippians, words Katy had relied on often in her life. But the way they came to her now was more powerful than ever before, as if the Spirit of God was speaking them straight to her soul.
“You okay?” Rhonda leaned in. “I could call Manly Stanley over if you ne
ed a pick-me-up.”
“Spare me.” She tapped her pencil. “You notice we haven’t got our Annie yet?”
Rhonda winced. “Sort of.”
Katy held out one hand in front of her. “We’ve got girls who could sing the part, but they’re too old or too tall.” Now she held out the other hand. “The little girls are the perfect size, but not one of them can project.”
“You worried?”
“I asked God to bring us an Annie.” The kids were loud. She had to lean closer so Rhonda could hear her. “I can’t have just anyone sing that part.”
“And we can’t give it to Bryan Smythe.” Rhonda’s eyes danced.
“Although—” Katy stroked her chin—“if we gave him a curly red wig . . .”
The auditions continued, and finally in the last group, a little girl with waist-length hair hopped onto the stage and grinned at Katy and Rhonda. “Hi, my name’s Kelsy Bouchey. I’m ten years old, and I’ll be singing ‘Little Girls’ from Annie.”
Katy sat back, amused. The kids knew better than to audition with a song by the character they wanted to play. Katy had warned them again and again that such a move would limit their casting potential. Kelsy would’ve been wrong to sing “Tomorrow.” But “Little Girls” was another story. In the play, it was sung by Miss Hannigan, so it allowed little Kelsy the chance to ham it up.
And that’s exactly what she did. In a voice that was strong and sweet, she sang the song without error, showing more spunk than all the other little girls combined. When she finished, Katy was convinced beyond a doubt. She’d been right earlier that evening before auditions started. Something special had indeed happened.
They’d found their Annie.
Ashley squirted a blob of gel into the palm of her hand, rubbed it over her fingers, and then worked it into Cole’s unruly hair.
“Honey, I told you we were going to Papa’s house.” She kept her tone even. They still needed to talk, and if it took longer than five minutes, they’d be late. Not that her father would mind, but still she was anxious for the conversation with Cole. “Why didn’t you come in the first time I called you?”