The Fall Musical Read Free

studious. The student government and yearbook types. They would have had plenty to say about someone like Brianna, none of it very nice. But Brianna turned expectations upside down.
    Brianna stopped in front of Room 147. “Here we are, the Lair of Liebowitz. You know about theater in this school?”
    Casey nodded. “The town rolls up on opening night,” she said. “Everyone shows up to the musicals. It’s like football teams in Texas. The costume and set budgets are six figures—”
    â€œYou read about us in the New York Times .”
    â€œSunday Arts and Leisure section—”
    â€œGood Lord, you are a total freak.” Brianna smiled, and the sun seemed to blast in through the windowless walls and ceiling. “Like it or not, girl, you are one of us. Have an up-tempo and a ballad prepared for next Tuesday. Ms. Gunderson will accompany, and she can play anything. For callbacks, we’ll have sides available. This is not—I repeat, not— the Big One. The stores will not shut early, or any of that crap. It’s our small fall musical, something new this year—Harrison’s idea. He worked on getting permission all summer long. You’ll like Harrison; he’s Greek, but don’t hold it against him. Actually, he’s pretty hot, if you like the dark, smoldering, serious type. He swears his eyes are brown, but look closely, they’re black. Anyway, the show is Godspell . Great music. As you know, it’s about Jesus, but you don’t have to be Christian. Stephen Schwartz wrote it, and he’s Jewish. Actually, so was Jesus. You can sing from the show if you want.”
    â€œSides?” Casey said.
    â€œSections of the script you can read. Scenes. One of the other Drama Club members will read the other characters.”
    â€œOkay,” Casey said, already numb from trying to remember the details.
    â€œI’m the student director, which means I won’t be playing a role. Mr. Levin—he’s our faculty adviser—is the actual director, but only because the administration says kids can’t direct. Which means I’ll mostly be in charge.” Brianna looked at her watch. “Gotta go. Hey, do you know Alex Duboff? From Westfield?”
    Clang . The sound of the name smacked Casey right back into reality.
    â€œNo,” she replied. Which was true. Alex had been a classmate, but she didn’t know him, just knew of him. And she did not feel like expanding this conversation. Looking backward was not in the plan. Who’d have thought Brianna would know Alex Duboff?
    â€œOh well, just wondering.” Brianna shrugged. “Someone I met at the beach over the summer.”
    â€œHow did you know I lived in Westfield?” Casey asked.
    â€œUh, because you told me?” Brianna gave her a grave look. “Already the nearness to Liebowitz is corrupting your memory. See you after school.”
    As she turned to head down the hallway, the bell rang. Immediately kids scrambled toward classes, screaming and giggling. But Brianna did not vary her pace one bit.
    â€œPlease have a . . . a . . . seat,” came a thick, ragged voice behind her.
    Mr. Liebowitz was a craggy old man with a robust salt-and-pepper toupee and a plaid shirt so often washed that you couldn’t tell the colors. He smiled warmly at Casey, looking through crooked glasses, then leaned over his attendance sheet. “And you, my dear? You are . . . ?”
    Casey quickly rushed over to his desk. “Casey. Casey Chang. There’s a mistake on the attendance sheets. May I?”
    Before Mr. Liebowitz could answer, Casey took a pen from the desk, crossed out the name “Kara,” and wrote in her new name, an action she would repeat eight more times that day.

2
    From:
    To:
    Subject: u wanna change ur last name to sterling???
    September 4, 11:07 P.M.
    hey, rachel,
    y r u never