Audition & Subtraction (23 page)

We followed him down the back row of chairs until he reached the middle aisle, where he took the end seat and set up the tripod. Emily sat next to him, then me, then Aaron. People turned in their chairs to look at us, smiling and nodding with watery blue eyes. Did everyone's eyes fade to blue when they got old?

I settled in, missing Dad only a little. Mostly, I missed the idea of him—and us—as a family. It made me sad to think that we would never be one again—at least not like before. But it was getting easier. And when Andrew went to spend the night this past Tuesday, I went with him.

I ran a hand over the gold charm bracelet around my wrist. Dad had flown to China two days ago, but he'd left the velvet jewelry box for me. When I opened it, I found the bracelet with the heart charm, but a new message had been engraved: FEARLESS. I hadn't taken it off since.

The music stopped, and there was a buzz in the room as everyone hurried to sit down. “This camera is ancient,” Andrew muttered, holding it up to show Emily. “There's no display. I'm going to have to focus through the eye piece.”

“You'll look like a movie director.”

“Yeah?” Andrew thought for a second and then grinned. “Cool.” He leaned in to attach the camera to the tripod, and I looked up front, wondering if Mom stood behind the shower curtain, waiting for her cue. This might not be Broadway, but she'd still been a nervous wreck all week. I'd come down for a snack yesterday and caught her pacing around the kitchen island murmuring, “Your love may never die, Harry, but you will. Back away and drop the cane.”

It was her big line in the play when her true identity
was revealed. Yesterday, Andrew had startled her in the garage, and she'd spun around and yelled, “Drop the cane!”

Looking now at the old people—at least two of them were snoring—I didn't see what she had to worry about. They weren't exactly theater critics. But at the same time, I kind of understood. This audience was Mom's Dr. Hallady—only with hearing aids and gargling coughs.

I looked up as a short woman in a flowery dress and black loafers walked to the center of the room. “Welcome,” she said. “Thank you so much for joining us for this sneak-peek performance of
Harry and the Heiress.
I'm Anita Weebans, the playwright, and I do hope you'll enjoy the show. And now, with no further ado.”

She slid back the shower curtains, the metal rings clanging as she revealed the set. It wasn't much: one easy chair on the left, a patio chair on the right, and a folding screen set up between them to represent a wall between indoors and outdoors. A huge square had been cut out of the screen for a window.

A minute later, there was Mom in her getup as Nurse Welty. She tucked a shawl around the shoulders of a white-haired lady and helped her to the easy chair on the left. I recognized the old woman as Mom's friend Mrs. Lansing, who had been decked out in a white wig, pearl necklaces, and rings as shiny (and as big) as mirrors. Way better costume than a nurse.

“You have thirty minutes until lunch,” Mom/Nurse
Welty said. I wondered if Andrew was catching Mom's foot on tape. When she got nervous, she tapped her foot. Right now, it was going so fast the hem of her nurse dress fluttered. “I'll leave you to enjoy the view.”

Someone in the audience burped and someone else coughed. Andrew leaned forward, the camera pressed to his face, as an old guy playing Harry walked on, his cane hitting the floor with each heavy step. He lowered himself in the patio chair and sighed. “I'm Harry Adelman,” he said. “Just moved in.”

Margaret, the heiress, turned her head just enough so you knew she was ignoring him.

“Nice view,” Harry said.

“It was,” she said stiffly.

Then I got caught up as Harry charmed Margaret into talking and then flirting. The man playing Harry was good—funny. Before too long, he and Margaret were meeting at the window each day. The first act ended as Harry proposed marriage and Margaret accepted. Then Nurse Welty took center stage—she had the last line of the act, and my heart thumped a little as she held a flip phone with one hand.

“Don't worry,” she promised, pretending to talk into the phone. “Your mother will never marry that man. I'll end the romance. Permanently, if I have to.” Then, she held up a loaded syringe and pressed the plunger just enough to let out a spray of liquid. The audience gasped, then broke into applause.

It was kind of … well, it was good.
Mom
was good.

By the second act, her foot had stopped shaking completely, and her voice seemed stronger as she plotted Harry's demise while keeping her secret identity secret.

Andrew had his face glued to the camera as her big moment came.

“Your love may never die, Harry, but you will,” she said. Then she bent over and yanked up her skirt.

What?

A leather holster strapped tightly to her thigh—a gun gleamed at the top. I groaned, but the sound was drowned out by gasps. Around me, the audience's attention was glued to the stage. To Nurse Welty, Secret Bodyguard. Mom's voice dripped venom. “Back away and drop the cane.”

Goose bumps ran down my arms. More than a few people slapped hands to their mouths.

A funny feeling worked its way through me. I was … proud.
Of my mom
.

Of course, it turned out that Harry had been in special forces a century ago, and he unarmed Mom with a fancy twirl of his cane. The play ended as Harry leaned toward the window and Margaret leaned toward the window. I held my breath like everyone else, waiting for the kiss … waiting. …

A sudden scream of pain echoed through the room. I jerked, startled, then horrified. It wasn't a random scream—it was Andrew.

As if Mom had recognized his shriek, the curtains flew open and she ran out—right through the nearly kissing Harry and Margaret. “Andrew?” she called.

He jumped up while everyone turned to stare. His face had frozen in terror, his eyes locked on something in the palm of his hand.

“My beard,” he cried. “The camera yanked out my beard!”

Mom stopped short, her chest heaving as she took a long breath.

And next to me, with a huge smile, Emily stood up and began applauding.

As if that were some kind of cue, everyone else joined in. Mom climbed back on stage as applause rocked the place. No one clapped louder than I did. I wasn't even sure what I was clapping for—Mom, Andrew … maybe just for life in general.

Finally, after a last bow, Mom raised her head and our eyes met. I flashed her a thumbs-up. She grinned, and even with purple makeup and smashed hair, I thought she looked beautiful.

Maybe this play stuff hadn't been so lame, after all.

But no way was she keeping that thigh holster.

Today, the cafeteria smelled like potatoes—a definite improvement over the usual aroma of mystery meat. I unwrapped my lunch bag while I half listened to Aaron and Brooke. They were arguing over who would win in a fight—a Ringwraith or a Death Eater. Aaron sat across from me, a fistful of cookies in one hand. Lori sat next to me, then Kerry, and then Misa. Across from them sat Michael, Brandon, and Tanner. Somehow, we'd taken over the whole table. A band table.

In the month since auditions, Lori and I had gone back to our usual routine. Kerry and Misa still called us Tay-Lo, we talked every day, and sent eye messages across the band room. She'd even slept over on Saturday night. Everything seemed the same, but it was different. I couldn't explain it exactly, but where we'd always been shoulder to shoulder—no room between us—there was just a little space now.

Maybe because I'd stopped leaning on her so much.

Mom's play had gone over so well, the cast had started touring retirement villages on the weekends. Half the time I came home to find Mrs. Lansing and the other cast members sipping coffee in the kitchen and reliving the latest performance. I still wished it were Dad sitting there, with his coffee mug and the place mat in his old spot at the table. But the house was always noisy and someone was laughing. Usually Mom.

My family of stars had shifted around some—but the Austin family constellation hadn't exploded. Maybe Dad's star had drifted farther out, but I knew he was still there. And now there were new stars—Emily, who had sewn Andrew's chin hair into the brim of his baseball hat and saved the entire season (according to Andrew), because without that hair he'd never have pitched so well in the playoffs. And Aaron, whose star had been there all along, if only I'd focused a little better.

Other things had changed in the last couple of weeks, too. For one thing, Michael had turned out to be okay. I'd told him about my talk with Dr. Hallady, and he was all fired up about auditioning, too. Since neither of us had made District Honor Band, he wanted to get together the weekend of the concert and have our own mini–practice camp. I thought maybe I'd say yes. Brooke felt bad about how things had turned out, but it wasn't her fault. Just bad luck. Her grandma had broken a hip, so her family had to cancel their trip back
East, which meant Brooke could participate, after all. And she'd made it, fair and square. But one day I was going to challenge her—and win.

I was still bummed about District Honor Band, but Wind Ensemble was my new goal. And I had more confidence now. I might still squeak with nerves, but I'd finally figured out that everyone worried as much as I did. Some kids just hid it better.

“I think a Death Eater would win,” Brooke was saying. “I'm going to use that for my language-arts essay.”

“You're wrong, but it'll make a good topic,” Aaron said.

Brooke sighed. “Except I'm supposed to support my position. With facts.”

“You could add up the number of fights they had in the movies,” I offered. “Figure out the number of people each of them killed and who has the highest percentage.”

Brooke's eyes widened. “Cool, but way over my math IQ.”

I smiled. “I'll help. I'm good at that stuff.”

Aaron grinned and bit into an Oreo.

“So we'll have to start thinking about Grad dance,” Misa said, looking down the table to include everyone.

“We should go as a group,” Kerry said.

“Or do you guys want to go as couples?” Misa asked, her gaze lasering in on Lori and then me.

“I don't need to go as a couple,” I said.

“What?” Aaron kicked me under the table. “You're coming with me.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

I laughed at the look on his face. “Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

I wasn't afraid of going solo anymore. But sometimes it was still nice to be part of a duet.

With thanks to the many people who helped me bring this story to life.

To Caryn Wiseman, my wonderful agent, who saw an early draft and said, “I think you've got something good here …” To my insightful editor, Stacy Cantor Abrams, who always asked just the right questions—this would not be the story it is without you. To Mary Kate Castellani, for taking over with very capable hands, and to Katy Hershberger and the rest of the incredible team at Walker & Company.

To Kimberly Fellner, my talented niece, for reminding me of all the things I'd forgotten about middle school band. I did my best to stay true to the band experience, but for the sake of the story, I took liberties with the rules of District Honor Band. I hope band members will forgive me.

To the teens who read early versions and provided feedback: Kassidy McDonald and Alison Ochs. To Rachel, who read for me even though there were no vampires or demons, and to Kyle, who inspired the character of Andrew right down to the chin hair. (Some stuff you just can't make up.) To critique partners Marty Murphy and Anita Weiss, and the all-knowing Daphne Atkeson, who reads everything first and never leads me astray. To Gene Lauritano, who offered to read my first manuscript and turned out to be such a great editor, he's stuck with the job forever.

Hugs to the Class of 2k11—what would I have done without your support and wisdom? And, most especially, authors Kiki Hamilton and Gae Polisner, who also read parts of this book for me.

To Susan Fellner Schanerman, for all those Tuesdays at the bookstore, and to my extended family for cheering me on.

To everyone who read
OyMG
and asked for the next book—thank you!

Finally, to Jake, who never played an instrument, can't sing on key or find a beat, but who is always in-tune with me. I love you.

OyMG

Copyright © 2012 by Amy Fellner Dominy

All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

First published in the United States of America in September 2012
by Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishng, Inc.
Electronic edition published in September 2012
www.bloomsburykids.com

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Dominy, Amy Fellner.

Audition & subtraction / Amy Fellner Dominy.

p.       cm.

Summary: Tatum, a fourteen-year-old clarinetist, competes with new student Michael for a spot in honor band, while trying to maintain her friendships and relationships.

[1. Bands (Music)—Fiction. 2. Musicians—Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relationships—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Middle schools—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction.]