“It’s not that,” Madison sobbed.
“What is it?” Cassie hunkered down so that she was on a level with Madison rather than standing above her.
“I didn’t get good enough marks to do the play.”
Cassie frowned, taken aback by this argument.
“How do you mean? The play has nothing to do with marks. You got the part when you auditioned. You told me how you were chosen.”
“I should never have done it. I should have told them that I couldn’t, and that another girl should take my place. We still can, Cassie, let’s go find a teacher and explain.”
Cassie stared at her in confusion. This must be nerves. There was nothing else it could be.
“You’re the best person for the part. This is as important as good marks in math.”
“You think so?” Madison asked, her voice filled with doubt.
“Absolutely,” Cassie said, hoping she wasn’t contradicting anything Ryan might have said in the past.
“Math is useful, sure, but your phone has a calculator. And computers can do a lot of sums. There are computer programs that add things up and you just need to know how to work the program.”
“OK.” Madison was regarding her with the glimmerings of hope.
“But you know what is difficult and not everyone can do?”
“What’s that?”
“Performing on stage. Not everyone has the talent or the ability for that. Now you have to prove yourself by going out there and wowing the audience.”
“I won’t get into trouble?”
Cassie squeezed her hand, wishing she could get inside the young girl’s head and understand her fears better, because her words were very confusing.
“Absolutely not. Remember, if you feel unsure, look at your drama teacher, and she’ll help you.”
Cassie wiped Madison’s eyes gently.
“Are you feeling better now?”
“I guess so.”
“So how shall we make you up? Do you think a spoiled girl would have curls in her hair, and maybe we can draw some cute freckles on your face?”
“OK.”
Using the hair gel with a blow dryer, Cassie managed to create some curls in Madison’s thick brown hair, and drew large freckles on her cheeks and nose. She painted her lips bright pink and drew eyeliner around her eyes and brows for an exaggerated effect, hoping Madison wouldn’t start crying again or her face would be a mess.
Dylan strolled back in, wearing the torn overalls that was his costume.
“You look one hundred percent the part,” he complimented his sister, and Maddie gave a shaky smile.
It was time for her to leave. The teacher was hurrying over, holding the sparkly dress that would go perfectly with the makeup she’d just applied.
“Good luck to both of you,” Cassie said.
But Dylan shook his head. “For plays, you’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to say ‘Break a leg.’”
“Why’s that?” Cassie asked, surprised.
“It’s because it is the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. So actors wish it to each other and then because you have said it out loud, it won’t happen.”
“So it’s a superstition. Well, break a leg, Dylan. Break a leg, Madison. And enjoy it.”
Cassie made her way out of the makeup room, which was now crowded with actors and filled with the babble of excited voices.
Ryan was waiting outside the theater door, and they hurried to take their seats.
Seated in the front row of the auditorium, Cassie started growing even more anxious about Madison’s behavior earlier.
“Ryan, did anyone tell Madison she wouldn’t be able to do the play if her marks weren’t good enough?” she whispered.
Ryan frowned. “I don’t think so. Surely a teacher wouldn’t do that? Her marks haven’t been that bad.”
“She didn’t want to go on stage. I thought maybe it was nerves, but it sounds like there’s a genuine reason.”
Ryan shook his head.
“Perhaps she misunderstood the situation. I did tell her that doing the play was an extra activity and mustn’t interfere with her schoolwork.”
Cassie wasn’t convinced, but then remembered that Madison was only nine, and might have misinterpreted what she’d been told.
“That might be it. I hope she’ll be OK once the curtain goes up.”
“I hope so, too,” Ryan said.
In a few more minutes the hall was full, and it was time for the performance to start.
In the dark, Ryan’s hand found hers.
The words “Break a leg” kept repeating themselves in her mind as the curtain rose. She hoped that the worst would not happen, and wished she’d been able to stay with Madison longer to ensure she was back to her normal self.
Her worry increased when Madison walked onto stage.
Cassie could see immediately, from the young girl’s body language, that she was unhappy and didn’t want to be there. Madison glanced at the audience, her eyes narrowed against the bright lights, and then looked down.
“No, Madison,” Cassie whispered soundlessly. “Don’t give up on it. You can do this.”
Then it was her moment to speak, and in the play, her first lines couldn’t be easier. All she had to do was introduce herself and say, “I’m Veruca Salt.”
But Madison said nothing, and the silence stretched on and on, every moment filling Cassie with greater fear.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cassie could see Madison’s drama teacher waving anxiously from below the stage, ready to help the young girl with her cue. Madison wasn’t looking at her. Instead, she raised her head again and stared at the audience, as if taking in the entire hall.
Cassie could hear concerned murmurs from around her. People had realized this silence had gone on too long. She wished she knew what to do, but short of running onto stage and holding her hand, she felt utterly helpless.
“Go, Madison,” she heard Ryan whisper.
Then it was as if Madison reached a decision that this was all OK. Cassie saw, with pride and relief filling her, how the young girl lifted her chin and summoned her confidence from deep inside herself.
“Well, Mr. Wonka. I’m…” she began, and surveyed the crowd, aware of the tension her pause had created.
“Veruca Salt,” she finished, spitting the words out in a haughty tone, with an arrogant shake
