Love is a Four-Letter Word Read Free

“Clarissa Louise Delaney.”
    Why am I nervous? I shouldn’t be nervous. I’ve done things that are much harder, like visit my mom at the hopital, or yell at Terry DiCarlo, or spend two whole weeks with Denise, but for some reason I can’t stop my heart from jumping all over the place. One minute it feels like it’s in my throat, the next it’s in my stomach. I can even feel my pulse throbbing in my fingertips.
    “How are you today, Clarissa?”
    “Fine, considering.”
    “Considering what?”
    “Considering I have to sing in front of strangers.” The audition panel chuckles. I feel a little bit better. A sense of humour is a good thing, right?
    One by one they introduce themselves to me: Karen, the director; Brian, the music director; Nadine, the choreographer; Becky, the assistant director; and Nelu, the accompanist.
    “Accompanist?” I repeat.
    Nelu smiles at me. “I’ll be accompanying you, on the piano. Did you bring sheet music?”
    I shake my head, no. “Was I supposed to?”
    “No, no,” says Brian the music director. “We’ll just get you to sing a cappella and do a range test.”
    The words “range test” send my heart plummeting to the bottom of my stomach. I’m not entirely sure what it means, but I’ve never been good at pop quizzes.
    “Do you want to start with a scene or your song?” Karen asks me.
    “Scene,” I say quickly. The longer we leave the singing, the better. Plus this way I can wow them with my acting abilities and they’ll be willing to overlook my singing. Not that it’s bad but it’s not exactly great, either.
    Karen, the director, is smiling at me. She hands me two sheets of paper. “Great! I’m going to ask you to read two scenes. The first one is when Dorothy meets the Scarecrow. Nelu will be reading the part of the Scarecrow.”
    Nelu smiles at me again. She has friendly eyes and very white teeth. I decide I like her the best.
    “Would you like a minute to read over the scene?” Karen asks.
    “No, I’m ready,” I say. The thought of standing there reading to myself while the whole audition panel stares at me is not appealing. Besides, I’ve seen
The Wizard of Oz
at least a hundred times. I could probably recite the whole scene by heart.
    “Whenever you’re ready,” Karen says.
    I take a deep breath, remind myself to speak slowly and clearly, and begin the scene. At first, my voice is a little shaky and it’s hard to look up from the script, but by the time we get to the end I can hear my voice, clear and strong, bouncing around the auditorium. It’s an awesome feeling, very powerful.
    When I finish, the audition panel claps politely before scribbling madly in their secret books and on pieces of loose-leaf paper. What I wouldn’t give to sneak a peek at their notes!
    “Very nice, Clarissa. Next I’m going to have you read for Auntie Em,” Karen tells me.
    I almost choke on my own saliva, or what’s left of it in my dry, nervous throat. “Isn’t that part more for older kids?”
    Karen smiles, but her expression is hard to read. I recognize that kind of smile — my mother is a master of the impossible-to-decipher Mona Lisa smile. “Traditionally, yes, but this is a youth cast so we’ll have young actors playing roles of all different ages. You never know, you might be the perfect Auntie Em, or Tin Man.”
    “The Tin Man’s a boy,” I protest.
    “The Tin Man is whoever we want him to be,” Karen corrects me. “Boys might play girls, girls might play boys. At this point it’s wide open. That’s what’s so exciting about theatre — expect the unexpected.”
    “So, Dorothy could be played by a boy?” I ask.
    “Maybe!”
    I highly doubt that, but given that Karen is the one making decisions, I don’t want to get on her bad side, so I fib a little. “That’s cool.”
    Karen beams. “Wonderful! Now let’s see what you’ve got for Auntie Em.”
    So I read the part of Auntie Em. I admit, my heart isn’t really in it. I just can’t