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Sorry guys, I had too much homework to finish the chapter. :( But I'll post it tonight!

Installment 3

The vivid orange-red autumn leaves crunched under Austin’s sneakers as he walked home, humming the songs still stuck in his head from Tuesday’s rehearsal. It was now Thursday, and he (along with the rest of the cast) was eagerly anticipating the next day.

He rounded the corner to find his cozy little house, smoke gently puffing out of the brick chimney. Austin sprinted up the steps and threw open the front door. The smell of wood smoke from the living room greeted him, and he plopped down on the couch to do his homework and listen to the Annie soundtrack through one earbud. It was amazing, the way he could almost see the RMS cast producing it onstage- the orphans’ perfectly synced choreography, Eila’s impressive rendition of “Tomorrow”, the comic relief of the Hannigan siblings during “Easy Street”- okay, maybe it wouldn’t be quite that good, but still….

Austin wondered how he’d never found this magic before. Sure, he’d seen Rory with her earbuds in, practically every minute since fourth grade, although he’d never realized just how good her music actually was. As he turned up the volume to block out the noise of his little sisters’ game of Ninja Barbies, a wave of elation passed over him.

He loved this theatre stuff.

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“Bet you can’t shoot that basket!” taunted Nolan, Quinn’s 16 year old brother, as he effortlessly dribbled the ball around his sister, sinking an easy shot into the net. Quinn crossed her arms over her chest, tossing her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder.

“I could if you’d give me a chance!” she retorted.

“Oh, okay,” said her brother, mockingly holding up his hands and stepping backward. “Go for it.”

The ball bounced off the rim and back into Quinn’s face. Clunk. Nolan snickered.

Blushing, Quinn shot again. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Steadily growing redder each time she missed, she resolved to try just once more- and the ball sank into the basket. Nolan stopped laughing.

“And that is why I do theatre!” said Quinn, jokingly punching her brother’s arm.

“I can tell!” he replied, looking her in the eye, and the siblings roared with laughter.

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Rory weaved her way through the noisy, crowded cafeteria late on Friday morning, balancing a lunch tray on one hand. She sat down on the bench opposite her friend Eila, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was a hard math quiz!” she panted.

“I know!” replied Eila. “I had to take it in second period, and I only finished a minute before the bell!”

“I didn’t finish.” replied Rory.

“Oh. I guess you can make it up after school then.” Eila’s face lit up. “Wait- no! We have rehearsal!”

“That’s right,” said Rory, but she was staring, preoccupied, at the other side of the cafeteria, where a single fifth grader was eating, alone, at the end of a table. “Eila, do you know that girl over there?”

“Her? No. Well, I know she’s in drama, but not really. I think her name is Laura?” Eila stood up abruptly. “I’m going to ask her to eat with us.”

Rory watched her friend skip across the cafeteria and talk animatedly to the little girl, then, having successfully persuaded her, stride back to the table with Laura in tow. Rory noticed with a hint of amusement that the fifth grader was taller than Eila.

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“Hi,” said Laura timidly, looking across the table.

“Hey!” replied the ever-bubbly Rory. “You’re Laura, right?”

“Y-yes,” stammered she.

“So, you like acting?” inquired Eila.

“Um… this is my first time, but so far, it’s great!” replied Laura enthusiastically.

“Ooh! Your first time! You mean you don’t know musicals? Well, we can change that! Like, we can teach you Hamilton, or Wicked, or Les Mis- all the big musicals, and then maybe I can show you some ways to-”

“Rory, you’re scaring her!” reprimanded her friend, gesturing to Laura’s overwhelmed expression.

“Okay- or not, I guess…” Rory trailed off.

But the fifth grader was smiling.

“I’d love to learn about musicals!” she said.

Both Eila and Rory visibly brightened, and the next quarter hour was spent in an enthusiastic discussion of Broadway.

And for once in her life, Laura Michaels felt accepted.

Dear Dad,

When I'm in the drama room, everything else fades away. It's just me, the stage, and the rest of the cast. I'm becoming more accostumed to my Daddy Warbucks character. I wish I could just pretend as him forever.

But guess what happened when I came home. Sofia had torn up one of my music sheets. It looks like it must have been Moonlight Sonata. Poor girl, she was probably lonley, with Mom at work all day and me abandoning her. I took her out for a walk and saw one of the theatre girls playing basket ball. That reminded me that I needed some practice, so I dribbled the ball around and practiced my side shots and my fake-outs.

Solfeggietto is coming along well. 

Love, Timothy. 

Great job, EG18917! You really nailed Rory! I was thinking of her like a cross between me and Callie from Raina Telgemeier's Drama.

Installment 4

And so the blissful weeks passed, with hours full of improv games and choreographed dances, showstopping songs and enthusiastic Broadway discussions. It was exactly as a drama club should be, until one fateful rehearsal.

The cast was in the middle of rapping Guns and Ships before one Tuesday’s rehearsal when Miss B walked in, looking half furious, half troubled, and on the verge of tears.

“What’s the matter?” ventured Aliyah Carlson tentatively, not wanting to be the object of such anger.

“It’s the principal,” replied the teacher, in a strangely lifeless voice. Anelia twirled a lock of hair, not meeting the students’ eyes, and her brother, on Miss B’s other side, was chewing his lip, very preoccupied with a spider scuttling over the floorboards.

“What?” asked fourteen eager voices.

“She- she…” Miss B’s voice broke. “There have been some budget cuts, and our program… well, they didn’t find it important enough. I’m so sorry, guys.”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. And then…

“WHAT?”

“How is that fair?”

“Why can’t they cut one of the sports teams? They have way more than enough of those!”

“WHY?”

“Listen!”

Eila was standing on a chair, her brown eyes burning with a determined fire.

“We need this club. All of us. And I know it. So let’s do something to get it back! Everyone who’s willing to help, step forward.”

A murmur of agreement was heard throughout the crowd, but not one person moved.

Then Austin stood up. He walked over to Eila, and stood beside her chair.

“I agree.”

Bailey Thompson got up. “I think we should host a bake sale, or a yard sale,  or something,” sie said shyly. “Then we can raise money to continue the club.”

Miss B cleared her throat, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I hate to interrupt, but I don’t think the principal will let us use the school anymore. We’d have to meet at someone’s house.”

“We could use my house!” said Eila. “My family wouldn’t mind!”

“Come see me after school tomorrow if they say yes, and I’ll think about it.” answered the teacher. “But we would also need a performance venue and somewhere to host the sale. Any ideas?”

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Emmeline Kelly went to her family’s restaurant after school and slouched down in a booth, sipping hot chocolate, while the scents and noises of the bustling diner drifted over her head. They had decided that they would set up the yard sale at Lily’s house, which was downtown and likely to attract more buyers. The performances would be held at a theater in nearby Mableton… a theater that was rumored to have once been owned by none other than Peter, the Kaminski brother, and had been the site of one unforgettable talent show nearly five years ago. The building had since been fixed up, and Peter thought that the new owner would let them use it for their performances, free of charge.

“Em!” Her mother’s call pierced through her daydream. Emmeline reluctantly got up, and walked behind the counter. She hated serving people, her natural shyness making it unpleasant and sometimes scary to just bring the customers food. But at least she was well paid for it.

Emmeline’s eyes were glued to her watch, waiting for it to chime 8. Just as she placed an enormous plate of fries in front of a particularly unpleasant little boy, who had developed very good aim shooting straw wrappers at waitresses, it beeped, and she sighed with relief.

Emmeline’s mom gently kissed the top of her daughter’s head as she placed $40 in her hand. “Great job today, sweetie,” she said softly. Emmeline, however, was thinking of the money, and knew exactly what she would use it for.

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Wednesday came and went, without Emmeline getting up the courage to fulfill her plan. But on Thursday morning, she finally gathered her courage and crossed the gym to the seventh grade side. She could pick out Eila immediately- her bright hair stood out among the dull golds and browns of the other kids. She stood in front of Eila, and shyly cleared her throat, holding her waitressing money in a tight fist behind her back.

“Um… Eila?”

Eila looked up, irritated. “What?” She seemed to recognize Emmeline, because her face immediately broke into a smile. “Oh, hi! You’re from drama, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes… actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about… I mean… well, here.” Emmeline held out the money. “For Miss B.”

“Thank you!” said Eila, grinning. “Now we have… wow, over $200! Thank you so, so much!” she finished enthusiastically. Rory, sitting on Eila’s right, smiled apologetically.

“You’re welcome!” said Emmeline, and walked back to the eighth grade bleachers, a new spring in her step, and smiling. Maybe there was some hope for her to become a social person after all.

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