Jack & Louisa: Act 1 by Andrew Keenan-bolger, Kate Wetherhead

here.”

–LOUISA–
    In an instant my life had gone from fine to
awesome
. Getting the phone call telling me I had won the part of Little Red was as good, if not better, than when my parents told me they would pay for a week at Camp Curtain Up. And then when Jack found out that he got cast, too . . . I don’t think I stopped smiling until I fell asleep that night. I might have actually kept smiling in my sleep.
    Once rehearsals for
Into the Woods
began, it was funny to think that the only thing I’d wanted to do a few weeks earlier was avoid Jack Goodrich at all costs, because now we were together all the time. Even so, I felt like there were two versions of the same person: School Jack and Rehearsal Jack. School Jack was like an alter ego: an unassuming and neutral kid intent on averting the attention of his classmates, while Rehearsal Jack was like a superhero: a talented and extroverted actor whose superpower was making friends instantly. Meanwhile, I felt like his super sidekick, sworn to protecting his secret. We both knew everyone at school would eventually find out that he was doing
Into the Woods
—half the town came out to see the Players’ productions, especially the musicals. But Jack wanted to fly under the radar as long as possible, and I wasn’t about to break the promise I’d made to help him do just that. Still, I liked Rehearsal Jack much better than School Jack. Rehearsal Jack was a lot of fun.
    Every night, as soon as our kitchen clock read 6:45 p.m., I would scarf down the last bites of dinner, grab my rehearsal bag, and run out of the house to find Jack waiting by our car, having shed his shy alter ego in favor of his outgoing superhero identity. We’d spend the ten-minute ride to St. Joseph’s reviewing what we’d worked on the night before, warming up our voices in the backseat. Dad would tease us from the driver’s seat, saying we sounded like a flock of geese. When we got there, we’d sprint through the double doors and up the stairs to the rec room, where Jack and I would high-five and air-kiss our fellow cast members like we were guests at a cocktail party.
    Wayne Flanagan, handsome as a movie star with his wavy blond hair, always stood by the water cooler filling up his Klean Kanteen bottle, so we’d say hello to him first. One of us would ask him to name the weirdest scented candles he’d sold at Wax & Wayne that day, and he’d respond by making up the worst smells imaginable. “Wet Dog,” he’d joke. “Car Exhaust. Tennis Shoe.”
    From Wayne we’d move on to demand hugs from Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz, even when their matching show sweatshirts were covered in crumbs from the tray of brownies or crumb cake they’d be cutting up to serve during our mid-rehearsal break. Sarah, our Rapunzel, liked to pretend we were celebrities and asked us for our autographs, while Simon, Rapunzel’s Prince, would pretend to restrain Sarah like she was a crazy fan. (It was totally obvious that Simon had a crush on Sarah.) It was usually around the time that Simon had his arm around Sarah’s waist that Angela (who totally had a crush on Simon), would announce that we were starting, and Renee would lay out the evening’s agenda.
    I felt comfortable around everyone except for two people: Renee and Denise. As easy as it was for me to make jokes with Wayne Flanagan or hug Mrs. Schwartz, the thought of cracking a joke to Renee—or worse, making physical contact with Denise—made me shiver. It’s not that either one of them was mean; they spoke to me just like they spoke to the adults. Maybe that’s what freaked me out—they treated me like such a
grown-up
that I wasn’t used to it. Plus they were both so smart. Renee knew exactly how to get what she wanted from you—like, she’d always pay you a compliment before giving you an acting note, or she’d suggest an idea in a way that made you feel like you came up with it yourself. And Denise was always asking super smart questions, wondering