19
MANY, MANY of my fourth-grade classmates had signed up to try out for parts, and I was going to have to choose among them. When I announced which ones I had chosen, I might make a few friends, but I was likely to make lots of enemies.
The auditions were held on a Friday. I didn’t sleep well the night before, and I didn’t have much appetite at breakfast. My uneasiness had no real focus; it was like the feeling that some people have about ocean bathing: they know that there are nasty creatures under the water somewhere; they don’t know which ones might get them, so they’re afraid of all of them. I got to school by stealing from cover to cover, slinking along behind hedges, ducking behind parked cars, dashing from telephone pole to telephone pole. As soon as I reached the school, I ran up the stairs and along the hall. When I got to the door to Mrs. Graham’s room, I heard my name, so I stopped outside to catch my breath and listen to what was being said about me.
Clarissa was speaking. “I’m sure Peter’s going to have a hard time choosing someone to play Cordelia,” she said. “It’s such an important part. I think Cordelia’s even more important than King Lear. It scares me just to think of playing her, doesn’t it scare you?”
“Oh, no,” said Veronica. “My mother told me that she was sure I would do a wonderful job as Cordelia.”
“Oh, how I wish I had your self-confidence,” said Clarissa. “Every time I think of playing Cordelia I shiver. I’m glad I’m working behind the scenes. I’d be scared to death if I had to play one of the big roles. I just don’t think that I could do a good enough job, do you?”
Veronica spoke again, but she spoke as if she had stopped listening to Clarissa. She said, “My mother played Cordelia once, and she said she was just wonderful. She told me, ‘Veronica, you go after the part of Cordelia and if you don’t get Cordelia, you just forget the whole thing. The other two daughters are real snots and everybody will hate you if you play one of them.’”
Clarissa said, “I think Cordelia is just wonderful, don’t you? She’s kind and shy and quiet. Whenever I think of playing the part I get goose bumps all over my arms. I’m sure I could never do it. It’s just such an important role. It would be too much for me.”
Spike spoke, but she too seemed not to be listening to Clarissa; she was responding to Veronica. “My mother said pretty much the same thing, but not in words that I can repeat, so I figure that I better get that part. I wish Peter would get here. I want to—um—talk it over with him.” She snickered and cracked her knuckles.
“Oh,” said Clarissa, “I’m sure that Peter wouldn’t be influenced by—”
Veronica spoke right over her. “That’s not going to work, Spike,” she said. “My mother has always told me that the boys buzz around the honey, if you know what I mean.”
“Gosh,” breathed Clarissa. In a small, hesitant, distracted voice, she asked, “Do you think that Peter would be influenced by—”
I’d heard enough. In a cold sweat, I turned and started to tiptoe down the hall. I felt a powerful hand on my shoulder, and Spike shouted, “Hey Peter! There you are! How come you’re tiptoeing down the hall like that?” She turned me around to face her and looked at me with something like concern. She slowed her gum-chewing and stared into my eyes. “You’re not sick or anything are you?”
“Uh, no,” I said.
“Hey, that’s great!” said Spike. She turned to one of her pals: Studs or Chuck or Knuckles or whatever his name was. “Isn’t that great?” Spike asked him.
“Yeah,” said, let’s say, Studs.
“I wouldn’t want you to be too sick to pick the kid who’s gonna play Cordelia,” she said, chewing her gum with a big wide-open smile that allowed me to see not only the wad of gum but all her teeth, her tongue, and her uvula. “You get me?” she asked, and she nodded upward, pointing her chin at me.
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