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

about her character’s “intention,” “sense of urgency,” or “arc.”
    On the fourth night of rehearsal, as Denise was about to sing “Stay with Me”—a beautiful, sad song that the Witch sings to Rapunzel to keep her from leaving—I confided in Jack.
    “They’re both so intimidating, don’t you think?” I whispered, watching Denise and Renee discuss the scene as they used phrases like
remain active
,
raise the stakes
, and
fight
self-indulgence
.
    Jack looked at the two of them, then back at me.
    “Why?” he asked. “Because they use fancy actor words?”
    “Because they just seem so . . .
professional
.”
    As soon as the word came out of my mouth, I realized why Jack didn’t share my feelings of insecurity. He had just left a world full of professionals—he himself
had been
a professional—so people like Renee and Denise were completely familiar to him. I’m sure people in New York were even
more
intimidating.
    Jack furrowed his brow like he was thinking hard about what I’d just said.
    “They’re taking the work seriously, sure,” he conceded, “but there’s no reason for you to be intimidated by them.”
    “I dunno,” I said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them
laugh
. They seem to take
everything
so seriously.”
    “C’mon, they have to laugh,” Jack assured me. “They do musical theater. You can’t do musical theater and not laugh.”
    “So says you,” I muttered as Denise began to sing.
    Jack gave me a quick glance and what I thought was a little smirk, then settled back in his chair to listen to the Witch’s mournful appeal to Rapunzel.
    A hush fell over the room as Denise’s final note faded into silence, curling like a wisp of smoke around our ears. Chills ran up and down my spine; her performance of the song had been perfect, and I was more in awe of her than ever. I looked over to see tears in Renee’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, Jack’s voice cut through the silence. Bold as a seagull swooping in on a dropped french fry at the beach, he said: “Wow, that was
so great
, Denise. I think as soon as you learn to sing on pitch and change all of your acting choices you’ll
really
have something.”
    I could have fainted. Denise had probably never heard a comment like that in her lifetime. She stared blankly at Jack, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. The rest of the room followed suit in its speechlessness.
Had Jack lost his mind?
If I hadn’t been so dumbstruck, I would have asked him. What seemed like an endless awkward moment was finally interrupted by Jack’s big grin—one I had begun to know and adore. In the split second that everyone realized he was kidding, the energy of the room exploded. Tears welled up in Renee’s eyes and now ran in steady streams down her cheeks as she howled with laughter, and Denise, continuing the joke, responded with, “Thank you so much, Jack. I really value your feedback.” She then pretended to write a note in her music: “Learn. To. Sing. On. Pitch.”
    As Angela tried to regain control of the room—“Okay, everybody, we should probably get back to work . . .”—Jack turned to me, an expectant look on his face.
    “I can’t believe you just did that,” I said, giggling.
    “I know, that could’ve totally backfired,” he said, his eyes flashing. “But it didn’t, and now you know that Renee and Denise can laugh. So you don’t need to be intimidated by them anymore.”
    My giggles subsided as Jack’s words sunk in.
    “Wait—you did that
for me
?”
    “Well, yeah,” he said, shifting in his seat. “You’re my friend, so . . .”
    So? No friend, not even the ones I made at camp, had ever found such a bold way to make me feel better about something.
    • • •
    If I thought Jack and I had been getting along before that night, it was nothing compared to the days and weeks that followed. Our newly solidified friendship became a full-time