Upstaged by Jeff Anderson

Author:Jeff Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sterling Children's Books

Chapter 18

THE READ-THROUGH

The ten-minute break allowed me time to share a string cheese with Abhi. I wasn’t at home alone, talking to the cabinets. I was living.

“Now let’s get down to the read-through,” Mrs. Darling demanded, all business. “A read-through is when you just read the play aloud, but you don’t move around.” It sounded like reader’s theater in fifth grade.

Blythe stomped out from the wings and scribbled something in her notebook, then stepped back into her stage wing.

“Let’s begin,” Mrs. Darling said.

As Scrooge, José had the first line of the play. He read aloud: “(Scrooge enters stage left, into a spare office, wearing wire-rimmed glasses on the end of his nose).”

“Darling, we don’t read the stage directions,” Mrs. Darling explained, looking over her lime-green half-glasses.

“You do the stage directions during the play; you don’t read them!” Janie shook her head, irritated.

“I can read the stage directions, Director Darling.” Blythe stepped out of the darkness again.

Chewy growled.

Mrs. Darling sighed. “You know, Blythe, you could read those over.” From her tone, you could tell Mrs. Darling had had just about enough. “The light is better in the hallway, so we’ll see you in a bit.” She motioned toward the door. “Go along, dear. That way we won’t disturb you by reading our lines.”

Chewy smiled.

Holding her open script, Blythe nodded slowly as she backed out of the cafetorium, watching us closely, as if she were committing this whole event to memory for a later report.

Mrs. Darling waited for Blythe to shut the door. “Action!” Mrs. Darling yelled.

“Action,” Chewy whispered, holding the side of his face.

José actually read only his lines this time: “So, I see from your shivering you think it’s too cold in here, Cratchit? I bet you think we should throw some coal from my coal box on the fire. Well, think again, unless you want to find another job. (Nephew enters stage left, striding cheerfully.)”

“You’re reading the stage direction again!” Chewy griped.

Janie quietly banged her forehead on the cafetorium table.

“But it’s right after my lines,” José grumbled. “How am I supposed to know the difference? I’m not a playwright. I’m just your average handsome star, doing his best to charm audiences, young and old.”

Mrs. Darling sighed, and tossed her script on a table. Chewy did the same thing. “I wrote the stage directions in italics and put them between parentheses!” She arched her hands into huge parentheses, framing her reddening face.

“What’d you call me?” José slapped his thigh, looking around for others to join in laughing. They didn’t. “Justkidding.”

“Next scene!” Mrs. Darling was done talking.

“Cliché, you’ll read the nephew this round,” Mrs. Darling directed, “but we’ll make you a niece.”

Blythe’s head pressed against the glass on the cafetorium door, trying to listen.

“Cliché, would you be so kind as to read the next line?”

“Hello, Uncle. Merry Christmas,” Cliché read stiffly.

“Bah. Humbug.” El Pollo Loco read flatly.

“Humbug to Christmas, Uncle?” Cliché read.

“José! José!” Mrs. Darling interrupted. “Use your feelings and experiences and channel them into your role. Think about your deep disappointment at missing my toast exercise.

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