Salted Caramel Dreams Read online

  I look Mom in the eyes and shake my head. “No. Not a chance. Dancing is so not my thing.”

  “Come on, it’s perfect!” Mom looks down at the flyer. “See here? They meet every Friday night for an hour . . . Oh, wait. Uh-oh. It says it’s for ages thirteen and up.”

  Whew. “Well that’s that then,” I say. “I’m too young! I can’t do it.”

  “Shoot,” Mom says, deflated. “I really think you would’ve liked it.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’ll just have to do something else.”

  Mom nods, her eyes already back to the flyer. “Let’s see. There’s karate, and gymnastics, but I don’t think they have any classes for your age group. And then there are swimming lessons at the beach . . . but that’s not ’til summer. Oh—wait! This looks interesting.”

  Uh-oh. I cringe as the twinkle returns to Mom’s eyes.

  “What is it?” I ask, unsure I’m ready for the answer.

  “Drama club!”

  “Drama club?”

  “Yes!” says Mom, clapping her hands. “Oh this is perfect! It says right here it’s just for middle schoolers. Starts in January and runs through March. And it all culminates with a production of their very own version of Cinderella, on stage at the high school!”

  “Drama club?” I say again. “But I can’t act.”

  “That’s only because you’ve never tried.”

  “But I hate crowds. And talking to groups. I can’t get up there on stage!”

  “Well, that’s what the class is for, honey. To teach you all that! But this will be great. Remember back in elementary school, how much you enjoyed choir? You always had the sweetest singing voice . . .”

  I get up from my desk and snatch the flyer from Mom’s hands. “Isn’t there something else I can try? Anything else?”

  Mom shrugs. “Would you rather try a sport? Maybe softball. Or lacrosse . . .”

  I shake my head. Sports have never been my thing.

  “Then drama club.”

  “Mom, I really don’t know . . .”

  “Okay. How about this? Just give it a try. Three classes. You go to three classes and hate it, then we’ll go back to the flyer and find something else that starts in the spring. But no quitting until you’ve given it a fair shot, all right?”

  “Fine,” I say.

  “Great!” Mom says. “I can see it now . . . ‘Intro-ducing Jasmine Wilson in the part of Cinderella!’”

  I roll my eyes. “You know I’m not gonna get the lead,” I say.

  “I know nothing of the sort. In fact, all I know is you need to get dressed. The first class starts in an hour.”

  “What? But it’s vacation! And a Saturday!”

  “Well, it says here they usually meet Wednesdays after school. But the first one is today. An introductory meeting.”

  “But I’m not ready!” I say.

  Mom smiles. “You won’t be any more prepared on Wednesday.”

  “At least I’d have time to figure out what to wear.”

  Mom throws me a towel and turns to my closet.

  “Better get cracking,” she says.

  Shaking, I bolt to the bathroom. I turn the water up as hot as it goes and let it scald my skin as I think of what’s just happened. In ten minutes I’ve gone from sitting on my bed obsessing over FriendChat to being forced into drama club. Part of me wants to cry, the other part is sick with nerves. Though there’s also a part that’s excited to have a reason to get dressed. I cling to that as I throw on my favorite jeans and sweater combo before running downstairs.

  “Oh look at you. Just beautiful,” Mom says.

  “Right,” I say, lips trembling.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” she says.

  “And if it’s not?”

  “Then we’ll find something else. Remember, just give it a few classes.”

  I nod as Mom leaves me at the door. There I zip on my boots and grab the house key from its hook. Then I hesitate. Dangling there next to my shabby brown purse is my new messenger bag. The same one that got me into this mess in the first place. Breathing in, I snatch it. Maybe this time it’ll bring good luck, I think. Then I give Mom a kiss, yell goodbye to Abuela—like always she’s on the computer, chatting with her sister—and start trekking to the high school, a block up the road from Southfield Middle.

  As the cold soaks through my coat, I wonder whether I should’ve just taken up Mom on her offer to start my Etsy shop. I could be back at Ms. Chloe’s place right now, cloves and cinnamon calming my electric nerves. But it’s too late for any of that now. Mom’s already emailed to register me for the class. Miss Tabitha has already written back, saying she’s excited to have me. And I’ve already run three blocks in boots. I’ve gone from zero to sixty in an hour. And as scared as I am, I’m surprised to find that buried beneath my apprehension is a little excitement too. For the first time since I can remember, I’ll be doing something new. I laugh as the first smile in weeks takes over my face. Ready or not, it’s time for me to start my own adventure.

  Chapter Seven

  BREAK A LEG

  I enter the auditorium in a daze, my eyes blinking as they adjust to the bright lights shining over the stage. The chairs beside me are empty and it takes a moment before I notice the crowd gathered down below, filling the first three rows of seats. In front and above, moving under the bright lights on stage, is a woman I assume is Miss Tabitha. She’s swaying back and forth to some show tune playing in the background as kids file into their seats.

  For a moment, I freeze, remembering the lies Kiara told about me at Aliyah’s party. What if some theater kids were there too? What if everyone here has heard the gossip? Will they hear my name and think I’m some crazy jealous crybaby? I bite down on my lip as I shuffle down the aisle. Kiara and Aliyah would never hang out with theater kids, I tell myself as I grab a seat in the still-empty fourth row. They only hang out with kids who do sports. And those they share homeroom with, I think, with a shudder. My cheeks on fire, I slump down low and scan the room as Miss Tabitha tells us we’ll be starting in just a few more minutes. There are more kids than I expected, easily thirty or forty, yet not a single face looks familiar. I decide this is a good thing. They probably have enough gossip of their own to keep them busy.

  As the lights flash—a sign that we’ll be starting soon—a group of girls sits down next to me. Before they’ve taken off their jackets they’re whispering among themselves, giggling about scenery and costumes and auditions. Geez, what have I agreed to? I wonder, trying to imagine myself up on stage. I thought this was a club, not a competition. I sink even lower as I try to avoid my new seatmates. Deep in conversation, they don’t seem to notice me.

  About a minute later, Miss Tabitha claps out a beat and asks the audience to follow her lead. Together we clap back her pattern, pounding out the rhythm until there is no more chatter. Once the room is silent, Miss Tabitha begins.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon!” she begins, sounding a little like a circus announcer. “It is so great to see so many faces—both old and new. As you know, today is the first meeting of this year’s Southfield Middle Drama Club. I am so excited to have you all here! Most of today will be informational, but I promise I will get you into groups toward the end so you can begin getting to know each other and preparing for auditions.”

  I gulp at yet another mention of auditions. Do I really have to do this? I think, as Miss Tabitha dives into the rehearsal schedule and performance dates.

  After a minute she pauses and looks out into the crowd. “So, any questions?”

  Yeah, how do I get out of here? I think.

  When no hands go up, she continues. “Great, then we’re going to begin by breaking into two groups. Those here for stage crew and production, please grab your things and head to Room 102 with Mr. Hart. The rest of you, hang tight.”

  My throat tightens as almost half the auditorium empties. For a moment I wonder if I should follow the kids leaving for stage crew
—certainly anything behind the scenes sounds better than being in the spotlight—but the kids leaving seem to know each other better than the ones staying. Afraid of looking even more out of place, I decide it’s safer to stay in my seat. So I dig my nails into the chair arms as I try to shed the nerves flooding my body.

  As the seats around me empty, Miss Tabitha waves to those of us remaining, encouraging us to move in closer to the stage. Hands shaking, I grab my bag and move down to the first row. Once we’re all seated, Miss Tabitha starts again.

  “Great, thanks guys. Whew, it looks like we’re going to have a great group this year. Cinderella is one of my favorite plays, it’s always just so much fun to perform on stage. But before I get ahead of myself, I do want to go over how auditions are gonna run. There are going to be a few changes this year, so everyone pay attention . . .”

  Miss Tabitha’s voice rises and falls like a cresting wave as she flits around the room like an energetic fairy. She’s tiny, probably shorter than some of the girls in our class, but with silver-white hair that makes it clear she’s closer in age to our parents than to us. Her excitement seems genuine as she begins to delve into the audition process, yet I find it hard to focus on anything she says. Because what she’s said already is terrifying. One meeting a week for the first month, followed by three rehearsals a week toward the end. And then two weekends of performances! And that’s all if I survive these auditions, which were definitely left out of the two-paragraph description in the Parks and Rec flyer. Once again, I debate getting up and leaving, but now that I’m crammed into the first row, there’s no way to escape without making a scene.

  “So how does that sound? Easy, right?” Miss Tabitha asks. “Again, just like last year, auditions will include both singing and acting out a scene. The biggest change is that this year we’re going to let you choose your own audition song. I suggest you all go home and start looking at songs tonight. The sooner you choose one, the longer you’ll have to prepare. And remember, show tunes work best since you’ll be auditioning a cappella, without any music. As for the scene you’ll be performing, it’s included in the packet you’ll get before you leave. Girls will be reading the part of Cinderella, boys will be reading for Prince Charming.”

  The audience erupts in giggles and groans as Miss Tabitha winks to the audience. “Now, now, I promise you, it isn’t the kissing scene. So don’t get too excited.”

  Again, the kids around me laugh. Most seem as relaxed as Miss Tabitha, and I wonder if I’m the only one who hasn’t done this before.

  “In fact, I thought it would be helpful to have a brief scene demonstration just so you all know what we’re looking for on audition day. So I’ve chosen two of our veteran performers here to help act out a scene—this one’s different from the one you’ll be doing, but it should give you an idea of what to focus on when practicing. So please, a big round of applause for Ava and Courtney. They’re going to be acting out a short scene between the two stepsisters.”

  Two girls jump to their feet and head toward the stage to thunderous applause and whistles. On first glance, neither girl is familiar. Probably eighth graders, I think, as they join Miss Tabitha under the lights. But when they turn to us I realize I do know Courtney. Courtney Silver, the wide-eyed redhead who was in most of my classes last year. She was always nice but seemed quiet, so I’m shocked when she jumps into character, her demeanor loud and boisterous.

  Her sharp emotion pulls me in right away, as she pretends to fumble with an invisible dress right in front of her, yelling that she has nothing to wear to the royal ball. I watch as she pretends to throw it on the ground and stomp on it, before turning to the second girl, Ava.

  As soon as Ava moves into the spotlight, it seems obvious that she is the star. She’s thin and tall with impeccable posture, making her look even taller and thinner. Her dark skin is flawless, not a pimple or blemish anywhere, and her long hair is braided in hundreds of tiny braids that she’s woven into a bun high on the top of her head, almost like a ballerina would wear. Her voice is deep and clear, and her movements on stage just seem so natural. While Courtney’s performance is captivating, Ava’s is so believable that within seconds I forget that she’s a student at all. In that moment, she is Anastasia, and she better look good for that ball.

  “Whoa, she’s amazing,” I say under my breath, unaware that I’ve even spoken.

  The girl next to me leans in. “That’s Ava Cantor. She’s super talented. Last summer she had a small part in a Broadway show!”

  “Seriously?” I say.

  “I know. Tough act to follow, right?”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Don’t worry though. Miss Tabitha doesn’t expect that from everyone.”

  I nod as the girl leans back into her seat, turning to giggle with the guy on her right. And leaving me to sweat it out alone as Courtney and Ava dazzle on stage.

  At the end of the scene, after the cheering and clapping has died down, Miss Tabitha returns to the stage.

  “Thank you again, Ava and Courtney! Now I hope that was as helpful as it was fun to watch. I know auditions can be scary, especially if it’s your first time, but remember we’re not looking for perfection. We understand that you’re nervous and you might forget a line. What we’re really looking for is your ability to be that character. So when practicing, put yourself in your character’s shoes, imagine what he or she is feeling, what they’re doing, and then incorporate it into your scene. Don’t be afraid to throw that imaginary dress,” she says, winking at Courtney.

  Again, my stomach turns.

  “Now we have about an hour left here before the custodians kick us out. So I’ve broken you into pairs so you can practice a little today before heading home. When I call your names, I want each group to come up, grab your packets, and then find a quiet spot backstage or in this front hall. I’ll be floating around if anyone has any questions or needs help. And remember to read your packets as soon as you get home. Inside you’ll find information on audition times and locations, as well as all those dates I was telling you about earlier. Sound good?”

  The crowd yells back that it is.

  “All right, then, let the fun begin!”

  I bring my nails to my mouth as Miss Tabitha starts calling names. It’s a habit I worked hard to kick years ago, but with everything that’s happened today, I decide to give myself permission for one minor relapse. With only a handful of kids left, I still haven’t heard my name. That’s what I get for registering so late, I think, with a frown.

  And then I hear it.

  “Jasmine Wilson and Ava Cantor,” Miss Tabitha says.

  Ava? Shoot. Again I bring my thumb to my mouth, but the nail is too short. There’s nothing left to chew.

  By the time I reach the stage, Ava is there, packet in hand. I grab mine from Miss Tabitha and thank her for squeezing me in at the last minute.

  “Of course, we are so happy to have you,” she says. “And don’t worry. You’re in good hands with Ava. She’ll show you the ropes.”

  “Great,” I say, forcing a smile.

  Ava leads me to a quiet hall between the auditorium and girls’ locker room.

  “No one should bother us here,” she says. “It’s my favorite spot to practice. Something about the high ceilings, I swear this hall has the best acoustics.”

  Again, I smile although I’m not exactly sure what she’s talking about.

  “First time in drama club?” she asks as I fumble with my packet.

  I nod. “I just signed up today. Kind of a last-minute decision.”

  “Well, you made a good one. Drama club is the best. Miss Tabitha is so fun, and the kids are really nice. You’re going to love it.”

  “I hope so,” I say, “though I’ve never exactly acted before. I mean, what you did up there before, well, it was amazing. I don’t think I could do half as good a job . . .”

  Ava smiles, her eyes shifting from side to side. “Thanks, though I bet you could. It’s just pra
ctice. My mom started me acting when I was just four years old. Started going down to New York for auditions and stuff. So yeah, I’ve had a lot of time learning on the job.”

  “Is it true you were on Broadway?”

  She laughs. “I had a part in the Connecticut Junior Acting Academy’s production of Annie last year, but it definitely wasn’t Broadway. It was at the Shubert. In New Haven.” Ava brings her hand to her cheek. “I swear, sometimes it seems middle school is just one big game of Telephone. By the time a story makes its way through the halls, it’s completely different from the original. Though I gotta say, I do dream of making it to Broadway one day. I mean, can you imagine?”

  “No—I still can’t imagine being on this stage,” I say.

  She smiles. “That’ll pass. Practice, remember?”

  “Right,” I say.

  “I mean, you may not get to be Cinderella this time, but I guarantee if you want it badly enough, you could work hard all spring and summer and fall and next year you’d have a real shot.”

  “Maybe. But only because you’d be in high school,” I say.

  Ava blushes. “Actually next year I’ll be in eighth grade.”

  “Really? Me too. I thought you were so much older!” I can feel my cheeks grow red as she shakes her head. “Guess we have opposite schedules,” I say.

  “Guess so,” she says, turning back to the packet. “Okay, you want to give this scene a try? I’ll read for the prince and you can read for Cinderella.”

  I swallow hard as the reality of why I’m here comes flooding back. As nice as Ava seems, she can’t spare me from the harsh fact that in just a little more than a week, I’m going to have to stand in front of Miss Tabitha and read this scene.

  “Uh, sure,” I say. The paper shakes in my hands as I look down at the words. “Let me just read through it once first.”

  Ava nods, and for a moment we stand there in silence as I read the script. The scene is only a page long and the sentences are short, much shorter than I’m used to seeing in a book. But the scene requires more than just speaking. It’s the one where Cinderella is trying to say good night to the prince. Where she trips and loses her slipper. And I can’t help but feel a little like Cinderella, completely out of place and nervous and just wanting to get back home. But I can’t run away, so instead I bring the paper up to my chin and start reading.