Dream, Annie, Dream: Chapters 8–13

“I don’t have blue or purple shoes,” Ben sighed with exaggerated remorse.

We were in such a rush that a bunch of us got stuck in the doorway for a split second, but we were able to burst through the bottleneck and into the hall.

But as some of the camp kids scanned and scanned the list while others celebrated, my hands became clammy and cold, and I worried that maybe I wouldn’t be cast at all.

She was supposed to be named Julie, but her mom couldn’t spell and so she left her at the orphanage with a note that said the baby’s name was July. And...that was it. That was the most exciting aspect of the girl I’d be playing.

Tak accepted the cup gingerly and took a tentative sip.

Tak accepted the cup gingerly and took a tentative sip.

“Too hot? It’s too hot, isn’t it?” My dad reached for Tak’s cup, even though he knew it was lukewarm at best.

Dad feigned shock. “How could you not like school? Come on, there must be at least something you like.”

I didn’t know what a panini was, and even though I could live forever on frozen yogurt, that was not enough to entice me into teaching math with my dad.

Thankfully, at that moment a thud! diverted our attention to Tak, who had been running sprints back and forth in the hallway after finishing his drink.

“Oh, sorry.” Dad brought Tak back down and carried him toward the kitchenette for another cup of consolation hot chocolate.

All markings need to be made in pencil. And lightly. At the end of the play, you must erase all the marks you made and return these to us in pristine condition.

When Jessica asked, “Can’t we just photocopy them?” Ms. Tracy was aghast.
“No! Absolutely not! Photocopies are certainly not authorized, either!”

Jessica wasn’t laughing because she was too busy flipping through the pages of the script and hyperventilating.

She had stopped on a page that was particularly dense with Annie’s lines.

“There’s only so much Hamburger Helper and tortilla chip casserole a person can eat, know what I mean? It’s like I’ve had flippin’ cream of mushroom coursing through my veins ever since I got here.”

“Anyway, we’re just thrilled you’re back from LA to direct at our humble little theater.”

When Mrs. Kelly went in for a two-handed shake, I may have been imagining it, but it seemed like Sam pulled hard to extract herself from it.

After everyone had their fill (except for Jessica, who told me she was too nervous to eat), we retreated to the basement, where a mishmash assortment of chairs had been set out.

My giggles turned into full-on guffaws.

Once the rest of the actors took their seats, Sam galumphed down the stairs with a can of Mountain Dew.

First, we always started with movement exercises. Lots of jumping jacks and stretching. Then vocal exercises such as arpeggios, which were like walking up and down stairs but with our voices, or ones where we’d all sound like sirens.

And I know “business” doesn’t sound like fun necessarily, but it was pretty cool to see how real actors worked.

“But this time, could you be more...repressed? Your character’s not the expressive type, so you should be holding it all in. Try starting out like that, and then loosen up as you go on.”

Then the actor who played the stern Oliver Warbucks would nod, take a deep breath, and like a spirit possessed his body, he would deliver his lines in the way Sam directed.

When it came time to work on blocking (basically figuring out where we moved and when), he ran around the stage on all fours.

And during rehearsals, when it was all about Little Orphan Annie searching for her long-lost parents, or Daddy Warbucks growing increasingly charmed by her, Ben sat next to me and whispered alternate dialogue in my ear while I tried not to laugh.

“And at the party she said Kansas was unlike any place she had ever visited. That the sprawling openness made her feel free.”

“We gotta choreograph the orphans’ number. Hurry it up, would ya?”
I hustled onto the stage, hoping no one saw me patting Sandy the dog on the head.

The lock didn’t work, and the chair would only thwart Tak for a few minutes, but every little bit helped.

They stared at us with their plastic eyes, actually looking happy to be tossed about and given a purpose for a change. Dr. Wang had recommended I not sleep with them anymore to see if that would help me with my cough at night, so they had been ignored and left idle for weeks until now.

I would have listened more, but a scornful snort from behind me pulled my attention away.

“That’s my best friend you’re talking about.” I bristled.

The final musical medley was supposed to showcase a big song and dance number between Annie and Mr. Warbucks.

“That—as Shakespeare would say—something might be rotten in the state of Denmark, if you catch my drift.”
I had no idea what Natalie was talking about.

After seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark, I dreamed of being the girl version of Indiana Jones. Running away from boulders, traveling the world, and chasing down old relics before bad guys could get them sounded like the most amazing life ever.

Jessica opened the curtains ever so slightly but then leapt backward like she was afraid her head would get lopped off.

In one of Annie’s scenes with the orphanage manager, Miss Hannigan, Jessica repeated the same line twice. But the actor who played Miss Hannigan was such a pro, she was able to improvise and make the scene flow seamlessly.

As the play closed, the audience roared and gave us a standing ovation.

Ben, still in his dog costume, pranced out on all fours to renewed audience cheers.