faceScarlett OHara. She was singing too, belting out the words in
a thick Brooklyn accent.
Serena leaned against the wall to watch, with a mixture of horror and fascination. The
scene at the art gallery hadnt fazed her, but thisthis was scary. When the song ended, the
rest of the Interschool Drama Club clapped and cheered, and then the drama teacher, an
aged English woman, began to direct the next scene.
Put your hands on your hips, Scarlett, she instructed. Show me, show me. Thats it. Imagine
youre the teen sensation of the Civil War South. Youre breaking all the rules! Serena
turned to gaze out the window and saw three girls get out of a cab together on the corner
of Ninety-third and Madison. She squinted, recognizing Blair, Kati, and Isabel. Serena
hugged herself, warding off the strange feeling that had been stalking her since shed come
back to the city. For the first time in her entire life, she felt left out.
Without a word to anyone in the drama clubHello? Goodbye! Serena slipped out of the
auditorium and into the hallway outside. The wall was littered with flyers and notices and
she stopped to read them. One of the flyers was for Vanessa Abramss film tryout. Knowing
Vanessa, the film was going to be very serious and obscure, but it was better than
shouting goofy songs and doing the Hokey-Pokey with fat, red-faced Ralph Bottoms III.
Vanessas tryout had started an hour ago, on a bench in Madison Square Park, but maybe it
was still going on. Once again, Serena found herself
running for a cab, headed downtown.
This is how I want you to do it, Vanessa told Marjorie Jaffe, a sophomore at Constance and
the only girl who had shown up to try out for the role of Natasha in Vanessas film.
Marjorie had curly red hair and freckles, a little pug nose, and no neck. She chewed gum
incessantly, and she was completely, nightmarishly, wrong for the part. The sun was
setting, and Madison Square Park was basked in a pretty pink glow. The air had the
distinct smell of New York in autumn, a mixture of smoking fireplaces, dried leaves,
steaming hot dogs, dog pee, and bus exhaust. Daniel was lying on his back on the park
bench the way Vanessa had told him to, a wounded soldier, with his limbs sprawled out
pathetically. Wounded in war and in love, he was tragically pale and thin and
rumpled-looking. A little glass crack pipe lay on his chest. Lucky Vanessa had found it on
the street in Williamsburg that weekend. It was the perfect prop for her sexily damaged
prince. Im going to read Natashas lines. Watch carefully, she told Marjorie. Okay Dan,
lets go. Havent you been asleep? Vanessa-as-Natasha said, peering at Dan-as-Prince Andrei.
No, I have been looking at you for a long time. I knew by instinct that you were here. No
one except you gives me such a sense of gentle restfulness . . . such light! I feel like
weeping from very joy, Dan-as-Prince Andrei said quietly. Vanessa knelt at his head, her
face radiant with solemn delight. Natasha, I love you too dearly! More than all the world!
Dan gasped, trying to sit up and then sinking back on the bench as if in pain. He said he
loved her! Vanessa grabbed his hand, her face flushed red at the thrill of it. She was
completely caught up in the moment. Then she remembered herself, let go of Dans hand, and
stood up. Now your turn, she told Marjorie. Kay, Marjorie said, chewing her gum with her
mouth open. She pulled the scrunchy out of her wiry red hair and fluffed it up with her
hand. Then she knelt down by Dans bench and held up the script. Ready? she asked him. Dan
nodded. Havent you been asleep? Marjorie said, batting her eyes flirtatiously and cracking
her gum. Dan closed his eyes and said his line. He could get through this without laughing
if he kept his eyes closed. Halfway through the scene, Marjorie put on a fake Russian
accent. It
was unbelievably bad. Vanessa
a thick Brooklyn accent.
Serena leaned against the wall to watch, with a mixture of horror and fascination. The
scene at the art gallery hadnt fazed her, but thisthis was scary. When the song ended, the
rest of the Interschool Drama Club clapped and cheered, and then the drama teacher, an
aged English woman, began to direct the next scene.
Put your hands on your hips, Scarlett, she instructed. Show me, show me. Thats it. Imagine
youre the teen sensation of the Civil War South. Youre breaking all the rules! Serena
turned to gaze out the window and saw three girls get out of a cab together on the corner
of Ninety-third and Madison. She squinted, recognizing Blair, Kati, and Isabel. Serena
hugged herself, warding off the strange feeling that had been stalking her since shed come
back to the city. For the first time in her entire life, she felt left out.
Without a word to anyone in the drama clubHello? Goodbye! Serena slipped out of the
auditorium and into the hallway outside. The wall was littered with flyers and notices and
she stopped to read them. One of the flyers was for Vanessa Abramss film tryout. Knowing
Vanessa, the film was going to be very serious and obscure, but it was better than
shouting goofy songs and doing the Hokey-Pokey with fat, red-faced Ralph Bottoms III.
Vanessas tryout had started an hour ago, on a bench in Madison Square Park, but maybe it
was still going on. Once again, Serena found herself
running for a cab, headed downtown.
This is how I want you to do it, Vanessa told Marjorie Jaffe, a sophomore at Constance and
the only girl who had shown up to try out for the role of Natasha in Vanessas film.
Marjorie had curly red hair and freckles, a little pug nose, and no neck. She chewed gum
incessantly, and she was completely, nightmarishly, wrong for the part. The sun was
setting, and Madison Square Park was basked in a pretty pink glow. The air had the
distinct smell of New York in autumn, a mixture of smoking fireplaces, dried leaves,
steaming hot dogs, dog pee, and bus exhaust. Daniel was lying on his back on the park
bench the way Vanessa had told him to, a wounded soldier, with his limbs sprawled out
pathetically. Wounded in war and in love, he was tragically pale and thin and
rumpled-looking. A little glass crack pipe lay on his chest. Lucky Vanessa had found it on
the street in Williamsburg that weekend. It was the perfect prop for her sexily damaged
prince. Im going to read Natashas lines. Watch carefully, she told Marjorie. Okay Dan,
lets go. Havent you been asleep? Vanessa-as-Natasha said, peering at Dan-as-Prince Andrei.
No, I have been looking at you for a long time. I knew by instinct that you were here. No
one except you gives me such a sense of gentle restfulness . . . such light! I feel like
weeping from very joy, Dan-as-Prince Andrei said quietly. Vanessa knelt at his head, her
face radiant with solemn delight. Natasha, I love you too dearly! More than all the world!
Dan gasped, trying to sit up and then sinking back on the bench as if in pain. He said he
loved her! Vanessa grabbed his hand, her face flushed red at the thrill of it. She was
completely caught up in the moment. Then she remembered herself, let go of Dans hand, and
stood up. Now your turn, she told Marjorie. Kay, Marjorie said, chewing her gum with her
mouth open. She pulled the scrunchy out of her wiry red hair and fluffed it up with her
hand. Then she knelt down by Dans bench and held up the script. Ready? she asked him. Dan
nodded. Havent you been asleep? Marjorie said, batting her eyes flirtatiously and cracking
her gum. Dan closed his eyes and said his line. He could get through this without laughing
if he kept his eyes closed. Halfway through the scene, Marjorie put on a fake Russian
accent. It
was unbelievably bad. Vanessa
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