Page 18 of Intermission
“For an uncommon girl. But why didn’t you go out for the plays back when I was in school? I would have loved the chance to perform with you.”
“I wasn’t even in—”
“Your attention, please.” A deep voice booms from directly in front of the stage. “Everyone take a seat, and we’ll get started.”
The crowd falls silent and obeys.
“As I’m sure most of you know, I am a newcomer to the Leopold community. My name is Jeremiah Hitchings. I’m pleased to have been chosen as the director ofThe Sound of Musichere at the historic Leopold Opera House.”
There is an awkward smattering of applause.
“Ours will be the first production to grace this stage in several years,” Dr. Hitchings says, “and, as such, I intend for it to be perfect.”
“No pressure,” Noah whispers.
I toss him a quick grin before returning my attention to the director.
“If today’s turnout is any indication, I expect I’ll need to schedule callback auditions sometime next week. When I call your name, please come to the stage. My wife Nancy,” he says, gesturing to apetite woman who stands and waves to the crowd before taking her seat again, “will give you a script and direct you to the correct page. You will read first and sing after. There may be a slight pause between actors as I take notes pertaining to your performance. Shall we warm up a bit?”
I am more than a little self-conscious to be singing through scales next to a guy who’s bound for a London theatre school, but I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach and sit up a little straighter. I need to warm up my instrument. This is an audition.
Dr. Hitchings sits at the piano and leads the assembly in singing “Do-Re-Mi.” Finally, he calls the first person to read.
An attractive, heavy-set woman, whose short, silver-going-white hair is set off by a lavender sweater, announces she’s auditioning for the role of the Mother Abbess and proceeds to read through the lines with perfect inflection.
The bar is set. Until the woman opens her mouth to sing.Or not.
“Next.” Noah’s low whisper tickles my ear. I glance over, and he grimaces, adding, “Please.”
I stifle a giggle and turn my attention back toward the woman in the lavender sweater.
Lavender, like the roses Noah sent.
The director belts out, “Brittany Miller!” A perky blonde takes the stage.
Her reading goes well, I guess, though the delivery of those lines would have benefitted from a little more expression.Liesl’slines, I note. But when she sings?Beautiful.
I slump back in my chair.
“She’s good,” Noah whispers. “Great voice.”
“Mm-hmm. I think she’s the vet’s daughter.”
“Huh?”
“The vet. Dr. Miller. The guy who donated the flyers.” I point at a line printed on the back of the leaflet that says,Donated by Miller Veterinary Hospital. “Her name is BrittanyMiller.”
“Ohhh.” Noah catches my meaning. “Hmm. She sounds a little like Jackie Evancho.”
It’s a good comparison. “She sounds like anangel.” I almost groan.
“I guess that’s good news for you then.” He gives me a sideways smile. “Liesl von Trapp is no angel.”
I straighten. A rather non-angelic smile pulls my lips upward. He’s right. Liesl is the kind of girl who sneaks out her bedroom window to meet a boy. She’s a flirt. A rule-breaker.
Noah shifts in his seat. His hand rests on my forearm. “I meant that as a compliment on your acting skills, not as an insult to your character.”
“No worries. That’s how I took it.” It didn’t even occur to me otherwise.
