‘Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, towards Phoebus’ lodging …’
Olivia had been determined not to let the old-sounding English intimidate her, and she spoke each line carefully and clearly.
‘… Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night.’
She’d studied the passage carefully to figure out what each line was trying to say and, now, all she had to do was think of Jackson to feel the romance of Shakespeare’s poetry. It felt so natural that she could get lost in the words.
‘Give me my Jackson; and, when he shall die …’
She heard a couple of giggles and at least one snort from the audience.
Oh no! Olivia thought. I just said ‘Jackson’ instead of ‘Romeo’!
She tried to stay in character. Oh no, oh no, this is bad – don’t blush. Don’t blush!
Olivia was sure her face was at least a little rosy – but she forced herself to deliver the rest of the monologue. The spotlights were sending out loads of heat and she could feel her body getting warmer and warmer, but she tried to blank that from her mind and concentrate on the rest of the monologue.
‘Take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun …’
When she reached the end of her piece she gave a small curtsey and the audience clapped enthusiastically.
I think that’s more than they did for Charlotte, Olivia hoped. But is that enough for me to get the part?
She walked off the stage, trying to read Camilla’s face, but she was bent over her clipboard, busy writing something. It almost looked like she was frowning until her friend looked up and gave her a little wink. Olivia’s heart leaped.
That has to be good, Olivia thought. Oh please, oh please, oh please! Getting this role meant everything to Olivia.
As she made her way back to her seat, she caught sight of Jackson, who was grinning like a Mister Smoothie server. Olivia blushed to herself. The perfect boyfriend, the perfect Romeo. It all just had to add up to the perfect first kiss.
Olivia decided she would go over and sit with him until his audition, but then Ivy called out his name.
She sat down in the nearest seat to watch him at work.
He climbed on to the stage and stood on his mark, looking up towards the top tier of the audience. ‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun …’
Jackson spoke softly, but he held everyone’s attention. Camilla was leaning forward in her seat and the muttering audience had fallen utterly silent.
‘… It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!’
In front of Olivia two eighth-grade girls were swooning over him. ‘I wish he was my Romeo,’ said the one that had a red ponytail.
She smiled with the knowledge that he was hers. A few weeks ago, she’d been a bit paranoid about how he felt about her. Now, since his visit to Transylvania, she was sure of Jackson’s commitment to her, even if he was an A-list Hollywood dreamboat.
Olivia bit her bottom lip and wished again that she would be cast as Juliet, to play opposite her Romeo.
As Jackson said his last line, Ivy unclipped the itching powder. Garrick was up next and she had to be ready to make her move.
I’m going to make sure Garrick’s audition is the highlight of the day, she thought. Not because he was a good actor, but because he was going to be doing a very good impression of … a person with itching powder down their shirt.
Jackson bowed to thunderous applause, with a few shrieks as well.
Ivy squinted against the glare of the stage lights and saw that there were definitely more girls in the audience than were auditioning. Some of the girls from school must have snuck in to watch Jackson’s audition.
When the noise quietened down, Ivy called out Garrick’s name. She unfolded the top corner of the bag, ready to spring when he came close enough.
Garrick leaped out of his seat and his three Beastly friends, Dylan Soyle, Kyle Glass and Ricky Slitherman, started whooping. He looked a little out of place wearing a skull-and-crossbones T-shirt and scruffy black jeans. He hadn’t exactly made an effort to be presentable for his audition.
‘Garrick is the man!’ shouted Dylan.
Garrick leered at the crowd, waving like he had a hundred fans screaming his name, and sauntered up on stage.
Ivy knew she was going to have approximately one millisecond to accomplish her mission – and she had to be subtle, too. If he spotted the bag, he’d know what she was trying to do.
Garrick was approaching fast.
‘Hey, babe,’ he said when he was about three steps away. ‘Make sure you mark down that I’ve been on TV before. Jackson’s not the only one with on-screen experience.’
Ivy forced herself not to roll her eyes. Garrick had been on TV during a lame stunt where he’d crawled out of a coffin at a funeral – it had been a complete mess that Ivy had had to clean up.
‘Why don’t you mark it yourself?’ she said slyly, holding out her clipboard. ‘Right here on my list.’
As Garrick craned over to scrawl ‘TV star’ beside his name, the back of his T-shirt gaped open. Perfect. Ivy didn’t waste a second. She tipped the beastly powder right down his collar.
‘Thanks, babe,’ he said, handing the pen back to her.
‘My pleasure,’ she said, grinning.
Then he strolled out on to the stage, confidence oozing from his every pore.
Three, two, one.
Garrick froze. His shoulders twitched. His right arm waggled. Ivy smiled.
‘Uh, can I do my audition later?’ Garrick blurted, doing a little wiggly dance.
‘No time outs, no do-overs. It’s now or never, Garrick,’ said Camilla firmly.
Ivy remembered the agony of itching all over her legs – and she had been able to abandon all dignity and scratch herself. Garrick couldn’t melt into a frenzy because he was on stage in front of half the school.
Thought you could cheat and sabotage Jackson? Ivy wanted to say. Not on my watch.
Garrick glanced over at her, eyes watering, and she waved the bag at him, so he knew exactly what had happened to him.
He started doing a strange little dance, like a four-year-old desperate for the bathroom.
He spluttered out his first line, ‘But, but, but, soft?’ It sounded more like a plea than a declaration of love.