WE REACHED THE RECREATION CENTER ten minutes after twelve, and the line was already out the door and around the block. There had to be at least three hundred people there, maybe more.
Dash saved a spot at the end of the line while Skywalker and I searched for the check-in table. When we found it we had to stand in a whole other line, not as long as the first. It took about ten minutes to get to the front. A young woman with large glasses smiled at me as I stepped up to the table.
"Mitch Mathis," I said. "I'm signing in."
"All right," she said. "Ah, I'm sorry, do you have a parent here? Or a guardian?"
"Oh… uh… she's… my mom's waiting in the other line," I lied. "She didn't know she had to check in with me. I really don't want her to lose her place…."
The woman nodded sympathetically. "I understand," she said. "Just take this waiver and give it to her to sign. You can hand it in to the casting director when you're called."
"Thank you," I said, taking the paper.
"Do you have a head shot and résumé?" She glanced at what I had brought. "Very good. No, no, don't give it to me, keep it with you and hand it to the casting director when you meet her."
Skywalker and I left to look for Dash at the end of the long line.
"That was pretty good," Skywalker said. "You're a natural."
"A natural liar?" I said.
"Lying, acting… it's all the same." He signed my waiver for me.
We found Dash sitting on the sidewalk. There were already thirty people behind him in the line, so I was glad he had saved a spot for us.
"Don't despair, the line's moving quickly."
Dash must think snails move quickly, because it took us an hour to reach the building.
While we were waiting we played Twenty Questions, I Spy, and Rock Paper Scissors, and then we stamped on each other's feet just for the heck of it. I taught them three easy magic tricks. We threw rocks at a fire hydrant. Then we ran out of things to do. We were just about to start stamping on each other's feet again when Tangie and J.J. rode up on their bicycles. As much as J.J. pretended to be annoyed by Tangie, they seemed to hang out a lot.
"Hi," J.J. said. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Growing old," Skywalker said.
"Having an unbearable amount of fun," Dash said.
"Mitch? Don't you have a sarcastic answer?" J.J. asked.
"Huh? Uh, no." I wasn't really paying attention to J.J.; Tangie was drawing her fingers through her hair. She had a dimple in her cheek when she smiled.
J.J. squinted her eyes. "Hey, wait a minute. This isn't the cattle call, is it? The casting session Mrs. Mulligan was talking about?"
Busted. Now that Big Mouth figured it out, everyone would know. I decided to just go ahead and admit it.
"Yeah, I thought I'd give it a shot. It sounded like fun."
J.J. shrugged. "Okay, if you say so."
"Why do you want to be an actor?" Tangie asked, the same way you might say, "Why do you want to be a garbage man?" She really was out of it. Cute—but out of it.
I wasn't about to explain the real reason, so I just said, "Hey, doesn't everybody want to be a star?"
"But we're already stars," she answered. "Everything that exists is made up of the stars, exploding out of that first big bang that created the universe."
I didn't know how to respond to that exactly, so I tried to change the subject. "Both of your parents are actors, right? Do you have any advice? I've never done anything like this before."
"Sure. Forget everything."
"Forget… everything?"
"That's right. Don't act. Be natural. Be in the moment. Be genuine. Just… be."
"That's supposed to help me impress these casting directors? That's your best acting advice?"
Tangie smiled. "Not acting advice, just… advice."
"Oh for heaven's sake, Tangie, say something useful!" J.J. snapped. "Here's some real advice, Mitch. Don't worry about impressing them. When you go in there, pretend you don't care how well you do."
"Won't that just make the casting directors mad at me for wasting their time?"
"Oh, no, just the opposite. If they think you don't want what they're offering, they'll be desperate to have you. Trust me."
"She's absolutely right about that," Dash said.
"But that doesn't make any sense," I protested.
"Nevertheless, it is accurate. Accept it and…"
"I know, I know, 'move on,'" I finished for him.
"Speaking of moving on, we've got to go," J.J. said. "Have fun waiting in line."
"Break a leg, Mitch," Tangie added as they mounted their bikes and rode off.
"'Break a leg'? I've always wondered why people say that," I said after they'd gone.
"It's a theater superstition. It's bad luck to wish someone good luck," Skywalker explained. "So you wish them something bad, like a broken leg."
Before I could respond to that, Dash held up his hand. I knew what he was going to say, so we said it together: "Accept it and move on!"
Twenty minutes dragged by as we edged closer to the door. Ahead of me a young man counted people in line as he let them pass into the recreation center. Just as we reached him he stopped the line.
"Hold on," he said. "Are all of you auditioning?"
"No, just me," I answered.
"Forty-five," he counted, shooing me in. He turned to Skywalker and Dash. "Sorry, guys, no looky-loos. Parents only."
"Mitch, do you want us to wait for you?" Dash said.
"No, I don't know how long it's going to take," I said. "I'll call you later."
"Okay. See you. Break a leg."
"Yeah. Multiple fractures," Skywalker added.
Once inside, the larger group of forty-five was split into three groups of fifteen. One group was led to the stage in the back of the room, which had been curtained off. Another group was led to a small gym that was used for yoga classes and senior citizens' activities. My group passed both of these areas and was led to the children's playroom. I could tell it was the children's playroom because through the little window in the door I could see some large foam pads, balls, toy instruments, and cardboard blocks stacked in the corner. There was a table set up, and behind it sat Axel Maxtone's mother.
The girl who led us to the room took our paperwork and went inside. We all chose a seat on the benches along the wall outside the room. The kids in my group ranged in age from six years old to a guy who looked like he needed a shave. For the first time I noticed that I was the only one who came by myself. Everyone else had a mom, and their moms were coaching them.
"Bright eyes!" I heard one big lady say to her daughter as she tucked in her shirt. "Eyes wide open! Energy! Energy!"
"Make sure to greet everyone in the room," I heard another lady mutter under her breath. "Remember to thank them afterward."
One girl about my age looked pretty miserable. Her mother was yanking her tightly by the wrist.
"I can't believe you wore that awful shirt!" the mom hissed.
"It's my lucky shirt…."
"It's a rag! If I had known that's what you had on under your jacket, I wouldn't have even brought you here! Look, just… just keep the jacket on. As soon as we get home I'm throwing that ugly shirt right in the garbage!"
I turned away. I was glad I was by myself. My mom wouldn't be like these moms, but still, I was glad not to have anyone fussing over me.
The young woman came out of the playroom and called the first kid's name. A dark-haired boy about nine years old leaped up and followed her inside. His mother stayed in the hall. Through the window I could see him approach Axel's mom at the table. Mrs. Mulligan talked to him and then handed him something, which he read. They talked some more, and then she laughed. Then they talked some more, and then he started to sing.
I didn't know we were going to have to sing! That was bad news. I'm not much of a singer. There's a reason I was cast as the fog in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Skywalker's words of warning began to sink in. This really was a long shot. I was a fool to think this talent search could solve my problems.
I glanced around for the nearest exit. I could pretend to have to go to the bathroom and then never come back.
The first kid came out, and he had a big, broad smile on his face.
"Sophie Westin?" the young woman called out. In went Sophie, the girl with the mean mom and the raggedy shirt. She didn't do very well. I could see her through the window, hanging her head. She looked scared. She didn't sing anything. Out she came, and her mom whisked her away.
"Mitch Mathis? Is there a Mitch Mathis here?"
I was so caught up with that girl and her problems, I'd totally forgotten that I was going to bolt. Now it was too late; I had to go in. "Here I am," I said, raising my hand.
"Follow me," she said.
Axel's mom remembered me from her classroom presentation, which surprised me, and I told her so.
"I have a good eye for faces," she explained. "It helps when you're a casting director to be able to remember people. And you have a… memorable face." I knew what she meant. Goofy.
She glanced at my résumé, frowning every once in a while.
"Did you make this stuff up?" she said finally.
"Er… no…," I lied. Well, it wasn't really a lie; Dash was the one who made it up.
"You're telling me you can juggle, walk on stilts, ride a unicycle, do a flip in the air…."
"Oh! Yeah!" I said, almost laughing, I was so relieved. I thought she was going to nail me on the phony credits.
"Show me." She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. She didn't believe me. Suddenly I didn't like her very much. I know I lie sometimes, but I can't stand it when somebody doesn't believe me.
I grabbed three rubber balls from the bin and started juggling. I kept them in the air in a tight circle, and then I made the circle wider and higher. When I added a fourth ball, Mrs. Mulligan's eyes nearly popped out of her head. I whipped the balls between my legs and over my shoulder, and for my finale I caught three balls and spun around to catch the fourth. That turned out to be a mistake. As I was spinning, Axel came into the room.
"Hey, Roach Boy!" he yelled.
That threw me off. My hand hit one of the balls, sending it flying across the room. It popped Axel's mom right in the forehead.
"Ow!" she said.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing, jerk! That's my mom!" Axel raced over to me and shoved me in the chest. It wasn't much of a shove, but I tripped on the balls I'd dropped and fell over.
"Axel, stop it!" his mother barked, rubbing her forehead. "I'm fine. What do you want?"
"I need money for lunch."
"Get it from Hillary. She's in the gym."
Axel nodded and skulked out, but not before he glared at me with a look that said, Watch out kid, you're dead meat.
"Let's get back to this," Axel's mom said. She had a round, purple spot where the ball had hit her. "Can you sing?"
"Yes, but badly."
"So that means no," she said pointedly. "How about a joke?"
I knew a lot of jokes, but most of them were not good ones to share with adults. Many involved toilets.
She looked up from her list. "Well?"
My mind grasped for the something… anything… "Er… what's brown and sticky?"
She narrowed her eyes at me. "I give up," she said evenly. "Tell me. What exactly is brown and sticky?"
I gulped. "A stick. Heh-heh-heh… get it?"
She frowned. "A stick?"
"Yeah, a stick is brown and stick-y. Stick-y. As in, 'like a stick.'" You know you're in trouble if you have to explain the joke.
"Thank you very much, Mitch. We'll let you know if we find anything that's right for you."
No she wouldn't. I was a much better liar than she was.
"Thanks for your time, Mrs. Mulligan," I said.
"It was my pleasure," she muttered, without looking up.
By the time I got home, I had figured out a whole new plan to solve my problem. "I was thinking that I would like to go to military school," I announced over dinner.
My mom nearly choked on her carrots. "Why on earth would you want to go to military school?"
"It would give structure to my life—you know, build character."
"Mitch, most military schools are boarding schools. You'd have to live somewhere else," my dad said.
"I know, but it might be an eye-opening experience. Broaden my horizons."
"Why do you sound like a recruitment pamphlet?" my mom said. "Who have you been talking to anyway? What have you been up to?"
"Take it easy, Helen, I'll handle this," my dad said, putting his hand on her arm. He turned to me. "Mitch, who have you been talking to? What have you been up to?"
"Forget it," I said. "I was just kidding." I stuffed the last few forkfuls of chicken in my mouth. "May I please be excused?"
Just then the phone rang. That would be Skywalker, wondering what had happened at the talent search. I'd forgotten to call him. I didn't want to talk to him in front of my parents, so I grabbed my plate and headed into the kitchen.
"If that's Skywalker, let him know I'll call him back after I finish the dishes," I yelled back. I started rinsing off the pots and pans that were already in the sink. After a few minutes my mom and dad both came into the kitchen. My dad leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. My mom's arms were crossed too. That wasn't a good sign.
"Mitch, that was a Mrs. Mulligan on the phone. Is there something you'd like to tell us?" my dad said calmly, his voice a little higher than usual. That really wasn't a good sign.
At moments like this, there's only one thing you can do. Tell the truth.
"I went to a talent search today," I admitted. "I was with Skywalker, like I said I'd be, but we went to the recreation center. Mrs. Mulligan was the casting director. I juggled for her and accidentally knocked her in the head with a ball. She may have been hurt, just a tiny bit, but it was an accident!"
"Thank you for telling the truth," my father said, his voice back to normal.
"Is she suing us?" I asked. "Because she was totally conscious and alert when I left the room."
"Uh, no, she's not suing us," my mom said. "She wants you to go to Warner Brothers Studios in Burbank on Monday morning for a commercial audition."
I was stunned. "You're… you're kidding," I said finally. "She hated my guts."
"Well, apparently she liked something about you. I'm not sure how we feel about it, though, considering this is the first we've heard of it."
I took a deep breath and explained what had been going on at school, how I needed to turn my reputation around, and why I had gone to the talent search. I was careful to not mention my dad's role in all of this, though it wasn't easy. I think he guessed anyway, because he looked a little guilty.
"Mitch, is this something you really want to do?" my mother said, looking concerned. "You've never been interested in drama or acting before."
"Yes! Mom, this would really help a lot," I said.
"You may think it will, Mitch, but becoming an actor is no way to make real friends. Besides, we don't know anything about show business! We won't be able to give you any advice at all. And I don't like the idea of your missing school. You should be settling into this house, getting to know the community…."
You know how you can tell when your parents are winding up to hand you a big, fat NO? That's what this speech was. I had to stop it before the word came out of her mouth. Once the big, fat NO lands on the table, it's almost impossible to get it off. I needed to think up something to stop the arrival of that NO, and fast.
"Mom," I interrupted. "I am trying to get to know the community. This is Hollywood. Show business is the community. So what if it's new to us? You've always said that I shouldn't be afraid to try new things, and that it's important to have new, challenging experiences. What is that poem you keep quoting by Robert Frost? 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.' That's what I'm doing. This is the road less traveled by. I promise I won't let it affect my schoolwork. Besides, it's just an audition. I probably won't get the part, but it will be interesting, educational, and fun to try."
My mom was impressed. My dad was impressed. It was the poetry that did it.
WAYS TO IMPRESS YOUR PARENTS
1. Quote poetry.
2. Ask how their day was, then listen to the answer without interrupting.
3. When meeting one of their friends, shake their hand and say clearly, "A pleasure to meet you, sir [or ma'am]."
4. Read the news part of the newspaper.
5. Write thank-you notes. Use real stationery, not e-mail.
6. Remember their birthdays and their wedding anniversary.
7. Clean up a mess THEY made.
"All right, Mitch," my dad said. "Give it a shot. But you have to make up any work that you've missed. I expect A's out of you. If your grades drop, it's over."
"I promise," I said.
"I'll call that lady back," my mom said, and then she added, "I don't know if you're a good actor, but you'd sure make a good lawyer."
I smiled. I couldn't wait to call Skywalker and Dash.
I didn't know everything was about to change. Forever.