Chapter 50: On to the Next Big Thing

Sunday, November 14, 1982

Sunday started off pretty much normally. We weren’t so tired that we couldn’t go to church, so we did. Dad took us out for a surprise brunch, which was nice, though I had to restrain myself even more than usual for fear of a food coma while on stage.

We got to school around one, with the performance starting at two. I felt like it went as well as Saturday night’s performance. There were even more hugs after the show. It’s hard wrapping up something you’ve worked so hard on. Just when you know how to do it, you never get to do it again.

Candice and Sherry, along with the Matthews and the Doyles (Sherry’s parents — I’d never gotten her last name before), were in the audience and said they loved the show. The Doyles seemed nice enough, and didn’t seem bothered by Candice and Sherry’s obvious affection. I figured they couldn’t have been, not after all this time, but it was nice to see it in action.

Study Group was obviously off for us, but everyone else had taken off, too, and come to see us. We got a lot of hugs and backslapping and handshakes and all that. Rita and Anderson both came as well. The Rileys came, but none of the other parents.

By the time we got showered and changed, it was almost six. Steffie had us over to her house for the cast party (the one and only one for ‘Harvey’ — no big party until after the musical), where we pretty much nibbled hors d’oeuvres and hung out and chatted. And yawned. A lot.

By eight-thirty people were leaving, and Angie and I joined the exodus, back home and — again — right into bed. Thank goodness this coming week wasn’t an exam week, though that meant Thanksgiving week would be. That seemed weird, and a little unfair, but we would manage.

Monday, November 15, 1982

“Well done, everyone!” Steffie said, once we’d all settled down in class. “I knew you could do it. And ... well ... you know how this class goes. I’ve certainly got things to cover, and you have exercises to do, but ... we all know this is the time where we recover and focus so that we’re all full of energy for the musical next spring.”

A mix of cheers and groans greeted that. No surprise there. We could definitely use the rest, but even thinking about the musical was a bit intimidating.

“And, speaking of the musical...”

Another chorus of groans.

“I hope you will be happy that we’ll be performing ‘The Sound of Music’.”

Whatever she said next was lost in the buzz of twenty-five kids all talking at once. Steffie quickly got us shushed.

“As I was saying... ‘The Sound of Music’ has a fairly large cast list, but we are blessed with more performers this year, which makes it a perfect time for us to give it a try. We’ll need those of you who don’t want to perform, or just have a minor acting role, to help with sets, along with those who are taking my technical theater classes.”

Fair enough. I wondered who I’d get. And who I’d want. Rolf was tempting. The good-hearted boy gone bad, the nascent Nazi, the minor villain. It might be fun to dig into that. And I’d get to sing ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’, always a favorite, and especially a favorite if I really was seventeen. Even if I was seventeen going on fifty ... um ... something or other. Eight? Probably eight. Or nine.

If Angie played Liesl, she would be sixteen going on seventeen at the time of the performance. But, then, my singing that song to Angie might be creepy. Or hot. Or hot and creepy. Or ... something.

Sara’s birthday would work. Lexi’s might. Other than that ... well, we would be acting, after all.

This had the potential to be a great time. The trickiest part would be working around the obvious age issues of Marta and Gretl, or at least I thought it would be. Maybe Steffie would just age them a little. Or ... something. Most likely we’d just have a few kids ‘play young’, though there’s an enormous gap between fourteen and ... six? I was pretty sure Gretl was six.

Steffie’s problem, not mine. I wasn’t going to play Gretl — though that would be hilarious, it’d be the wrong sort of hilarity — and I really didn’t want to play Kurt, either. Nor Georg, though I’d certainly be — in some ways — the best fit for Georg, with my soul being much older than my body.

Again, Steffie’s problem, but I had to figure out who I was going for. Rolf? Georg? Someone out of left field, like Max? I’d be the best fit for any of them, probably, amongst the boys in Drama.

And what would Angie go for? And Jasmine? It’d be really interesting to compare notes.

Once Steffie had finished going over the cast a little, and the tentative audition plans — first week of December, two weeks before finals and after the Thanksgiving interruption — we broke up into groups.

Jasmine was a little excited, and Angie seemed to match her. For that matter, pretty much everyone was.

“So?” Jasmine said. “What’s your favorite, Steve?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe Rolf.”

“Ooh! The bad boy!” Angie said. “Conqueror of innocent virtue and breaker of hearts!”

“He wishes,” I said, chuckling. “He’s a bit ... less effective ... than he might have wished, if I recall correctly.”

“He did try to betray them just to keep his ladylove close,” Jasmine said, giggling.

“Is that your interpretation? I just thought he was an evil Nazi stooge,” Angie said.

“Tow-may-tow, Tow-mah-tow,” Jasmine said, grinning.

“Anyway ... Rolf, maybe. Or... maybe ... Georg. Or possibly Max.”

“Hrm. You’d fit all of them,” Angie said. “Yes, even Rolf, though you’re the anti-Rolf in real life.”

“I ... can see that,” I said.

“I might try for Maria,” Jasmine said. “In a way I think a senior should get it, but ... they might want it, they might not. Or I could understudy her, maybe. If not Maria ... Liesl? Elsa?”

“Not the Mother Abbess?” Angie said, grinning.

“Definitely a senior role,” Jasmine said with a giggle.

“I could take her, but ... Liesl or Maria or maybe Louisa, I think. I might make a really good Louisa, honestly.”

“You ... could do that,” Jasmine said. “I can see that.”

“I guess we’ll see,” I said. “At least it’s a nice big cast with some interesting options.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine said. “I like that, too. And ... well. I love that I’ll be doing it with you both.”

“Um ... well ... yes,” I said, “but not on stage, or Steffie would be in deep trouble.”

That got me two whaps. Followed by two kisses — one on the cheek, one on the lips — so that’s not bad. Not at all.

Cammie and I sat down in Debate and had a serious discussion about the next two tournaments. We could do either or neither. Both would’ve been ridiculous, and maybe impossible.

After discussion ... neither. We’d done four tournaments already, not counting Indiana. At minimum we’d go to four in the spring. Two of those would be ‘national-level’ tournaments, one probably the best ‘local’ tournament of the year, and then State. ToC or Nationals (likely not both) were possibilities. And then we’d go to Northwestern.

Toss in that I was a bit burned out from the play, Cammie had some family visiting early for Thanksgiving, and we wanted to see Andy and Cal play in the playoffs, and ... yeah.

The Debaters that went to those tournaments would be fine, and maybe it’d clear some room for more qualifiers. Most likely it would.

Angie and Gene and Jasmine were all on board with this. Date nights for all of us! Hopefully Cammie could get away from family long enough for Mel to be thrilled, too. If not ... nap-time.

It hadn’t escaped me that we had no dilettantes at all in Debate this year. We might have some non-qualifiers, but it wouldn’t be from a lack of trying. We had some in Drama, but Drama is different. There’s a point to taking Drama without competing in tournaments. Debate? Much, much less of a point, really. Yes, you learn speaking skills to some extent, but you never put them to the test, and the hardest thing about speaking isn’t speaking, it’s speaking to strangers in a pressure situation.

We congregated in the library for another Student Council meeting. I wasn’t looking forward to it, not tired out from ‘Harvey’. But I didn’t exactly have a hard job. It’d be fine.

Turned out ... I had a hard job. Tony had the flu, which put me into the role of Acting President. Whee!

This wasn’t my first rodeo chairing a meeting. Far from it. I’d been on several volunteer boards over the years during my first go-round. I got things moving and, as much as I could, I kept things moving.

Mel reported that the Halloween dance was a big success, and that she hadn’t gotten any pushback over Charles’ stunt, even after the dance. Nor had Steffie. Score some points for having a sense of humor! The Winter Formal planning was already well underway and she promised it’d be a great time.

One interesting thing: Social Committee spending was up this year. Better decorations, better snacks, and so forth. But revenue was also up: better advertising and (resulting?) higher attendance. I wasn’t sure if it was the advertising or just increasing turnout from underclassmen. Probably this year’s success would create more success next year. That was certainly the hope.

Cammie’s rules review committee was ready for a vote on the dress code changes. All that had changed since October were some minor tweaks to phrasing, grammar fixes, and so forth. From our perspective, apparently the changes were not controversial, as we approved them twelve to nothing. Most likely Principal Riggs wouldn’t be quite so positive.

There was little new with Fundraising — money was still rolling in from Spirit purchases. Now that we were in the playoffs, it was only going up. There was also little new with Angie’s Academics Review committee. She’d been swamped, and it could wait.

On the other hand ... Project Graduation had results. Sheila, perhaps presaging a future in politics, spread out the reporting amongst her team, giving everyone a bit of time in the spotlight. They’d found what I’d expected them to find: apparently some students were being given recommendations to colleges that were ‘lesser’ than the colleges other students were being referred to, and — systematically — it appeared that girls were the ones being given those lesser recommendations. Not every girl, not every time, but on balance there was a clear pattern.