Showstopper by Lisa Fiedler Page B

my hands for their attention. “Let’s start with a read-through. Everybody, to the stage.”
    Obediently, they all shuffled down the carpeted aisle of the theater and up the steps on either side of the stage. Scripts in hand, they sat down, assembling themselves into a wide oval on the black-painted floor.
    â€œSusan—highlighters,” said Austin.
    Susan made her way around the oval, handing out the neon-colored markers to everyone who had a speaking part.
    â€œWhat are these for?” asked Maddie.
    â€œTo highlight your lines for easy reference,” I said. “When you’re done, we’re going to start with a read-through.”
    â€œWhat’s a read-through?” asked Brady.
    â€œExactly what it sounds like,” I said. “You just sit where you are and read through the script, without any blocking or moving around.”
    Susan finished distributing the markers. As the actors began the task of highlighting their lines, she gave me a puzzled look.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I asked.
    â€œWhen I put the highlighters in my backpack this morning,I counted out just the right amount,” she said. “One per kid.”
    â€œAnd?”
    She held up a neon-green marker and frowned. “There’s one left over.”
    â€œMaybe you miscounted,” said Austin.
    Susan rolled her eyes. “Have we met? I’m an organizational genius. I don’t miscount.”
    â€œWait,” I said. “You weren’t expecting to need a marker yourself because you didn’t know you’d be highlighting lines of your own.”
    â€œRight,” said Susan. “Which means I’d be one short .”
    â€œWell, even organizational geniuses make mistakes once in a while,” I said.
    I waited for the actors to finish coloring their lines. When they were done, there was a rustle of pages as they turned back to the first scene, then a hush fell over the theater. They were waiting for me to start them off. I glanced at Austin, who was standing beside me with our script—the director’s copy—open in front of him.
    I smiled and took a deep breath. “Whenever you’re ready.”
    Silence.
    I tried again. “Start when it feels right,” I said a little louder, in case the acoustics of this huge space were working against me.
    Still, nothing.
    Heads began to swivel. Kids frowned and whispered.
    I turned to Austin. “What’s the first line?” I asked.
    He consulted the script. “ ‘ Reporting live from ancient Greece . . .’ ”
    â€œWho says it?”
    â€œGreek Chorus Number One.”
    I closed my eyes, picturing the cast list:
    Greek Chorus Number One: Mackenzie
    It was then I realized . . .
    Mackenzie was nowhere to be seen!

CHAPTER
    11
    â€œMaybe she had one of those super-special, last-minute New York City dance classes her mother’s always springing on her,” Susan guessed.
    Austin shook his head. “I doubt it. She would have texted one of us.”
    â€œNo, she wouldn’t,” Maxie corrected. “Her mom took her phone away last week. She said it was distracting her from dancing.”
    I reached into my pocket for my own cell. “I’ll call her house phone,” I said. “Maybe she overslept or something.”
    â€œActors, start looking at your lines,” said Susan. Then she grinned, raised her arms in the air, and said in a deep, booming voice, “Useless mortals, I command thee to start looking at your lines by order of Zeus, father of the gods.”
    I gave her a look. “That’s gonna get old fast,” I warned asthe phone rang once, twice . . .
    â€œHello?” came Kenzie’s mother’s voice through the speaker.
    â€œHi, Mrs. Fleisch, this is Anya Wallach.”
    â€œGood morning, Anya.”
    â€œIs Mackenzie there?”
    â€œNo, she’s not. She’s gone out for a run.”
    â€œOh. Well, when she