Chapter 13
Today is audition day. I skip class, spending hours in front of the bathroom mirror practicing my mouth exercises.
“Elephant umbilical cord, elephant umbilical cord,” I enunciate slowly, my lips spreading as far as they can for each syllable. I check my phone and it's a minute past the start time, so I rush to the auditorium.
The door squeaks when I enter, and everybody is already in their seats, listening to Ms. Easterling. It's cold and smells musty.
She gives us a recap of the original story of Peter Pan: the flying boy in green who never grew up, who can never seem to catch his shadow that torments him.
He takes Wendy Darling and her two brothers, stuck like prisoners in their room in London with parents who don't respect them, to the mermaid-infested island of Never-Never Land, where he leads a clan of scrappy kids called the Lost Boys.
The fairy Tinker Bell, who loves Peter, grows jealous of his romance with Wendy.
All the while Captain Hook, his servant Smee, and their fellow pirates seek revenge on Pan for causing Hook to lose his hand to a crocodile during a fight with the Lost Boys.
Pansgender!, she points out, is similar, but Peter is nonbinary and Hook is trans.
Tinker Bell is now a gay fairy named Twinker Bell.
Peter's shadow still represents their fear of growing up.
Hook, Smee, and Wendy's parents represent what successful repression turns us into.
The crocodile represents the nature that we try to deny that eats us up, which is Pan's shadow and Hook's gender.
“Now, let's do this!” she says, and starts pairing us up for the dance segment.
“Wade.” She points to me. “Dance with Byron.”
“You couldn't pair me with Darren?” he asks.
She walks off and leaves the two of us facing each other. Byron closes his eyes and shakes his head, his eyebrows arched up to the sky.
“Don't fuck this up, new guy. This is my last main stage show. I'm doing this with you as a favor,” he says.
The choreographer, Luis, takes a group of us to a separate room, where we have to learn the choreography with our partner. We have to do a tango together, and the teacher starts with the basic steps. When we move a little faster, I step on Byron's feet.
“Wade, I swear to god,” he says.
“Sorry, sorry,” I say. This isn't all that complicated, but being stuck with Byron has me on edge.
Luis adds a few more complex turns to the dance. I turn the wrong way and bump into another dancer.
“Does anybody see what I'm dealing with here?” Byron shouts to the room.
Luis takes us aside and practices the choreography with us, but spends most of the time listening to Byron complain.
“Do you think I could switch partners? It's my last show and he's blowing this for the both of us. I've got an agent coming to watch me!”
By the time we dance for Ms. Easterling, I'm exhausted. I can barely keep up with Byron, who glares at me and caterwauls during every misstep.
When it's time for us to read roles, Byron reads for Captain Hook and I read for the Crocodile.
Of course, Byron hams it up and delivers an exquisite asshole villain through the reading, which suits him well.
He's made me so nervous that I can't read without messing up the lines, and Ms. Easterling just looks at me with a blank face.
Finally, we reach the singing auditions. Byron holds all of us up while he's backstage for a special costume change.
“Okay, superstar! We're waiting for you,” Ms. Easterling calls to him.
Byron rushes onstage, dressed as the Phantom of the Opera. He conceals himself with a thick cape and laughs malevolently.
You have got to be kidding me.
The music starts to play. It's my audition song. Behold my fate.
“This one goes out to Carsten Selesky!” he shouts.
Carsten, sitting behind me, yells out, “Woo! Love you, baby!”
Byron alternates between sassy confidence and thunderous belting. It's the perfect version of this song. I can't compete with it. I'm cooked. It's so over.
He holds the final note and everybody around me gives him a standing ovation. I peek behind me. Felix is standing up, too. Carsten runs up to the stage and throws a bouquet of flowers at Byron, who bows so low his head almost hits the floor.
I don't know what to do. When the applause dies down, the silence in the theater is awkward. I'm the only one left to audition.
I roll myself onto the stage in the least elegant way possible and stand up in the center.
“Go ahead and show us what you got,” she says.
“I forgot my background music, so I'll just a cappella it,” I say.
“Very well.”
The auditorium is still and quiet, and everybody is somehow paying attention to me now instead of their phones.
What can I do? I stare at the back of the theater into the darkness. I lock eyes with Felix as if the answer to this problem will be written on him.
If only I had the shameless confidence of somebody like Brandon Barton Buckley…
Okay. I know what to do now.
“You're…” I let out the word meekly without thinking, then stop. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“…behind bars, no hope in sight, but then you see a light!”
The students erupt in laughter. Ms. Easterling laughs, too, and has to cover her mouth.
“It's Brandon falling from the clouds to help you with your plight! Brandon Barton Buckley's Blockbuster Bodacious Bail Bonds!” I'm belting it out now, growing in confidence with every single laugh.
“You punched your wife 'cause she talked back, cops Tased you on the street? Call Brandon Barton Buckley to get back on your two feet!”
I'm dancing and pantomiming at this point. I spot Byron in the audience, stony-faced and arms crossed, and I couldn't give less of a shit because I am killing it.
“You gave your hot student a ride home and your judgment's poor? Let Brandon post your bail; your reputation YOU restore!”
Everybody is in stitches at this point. I can't believe it. I'm crushing it. Transgender Captain Hook, here I come!
“Don't mind the fine print, sign it quickly, please don't feel no shame! Just ignore the fact that your house is now somehow in my name!”
I've never been laughed with in front of a group of people. It's the most exhilarating moment of my life. This must be what it feels like to be liked.
The back door of the auditorium bursts open, and a crowd of students spill in holding a big sign that says STOP THE MUSICAL!
They chant, “No to Pansgender!” repeatedly, their voices growing louder as they reach the middle of the auditorium.
One kid blows an airhorn, which echoes around the walls and ceiling like a ricocheting bullet in our ears.
Sutter and Aubrey hold up their own signs.
Roland has a megaphone.
“We have a petition signed by over three hundred students who think this show is inappropriate,” Roland says.
Ms. Easterling takes the petition from him and flips through it, her eyebrows rising as she sees the mountain of names.
“If you don't like the show, then don't come see it. Solved!” she says.
“Students who want to audition for the musical can't because their families won't allow them,” Aubrey says. “It's promoting fluid gender roles to young people. It's saying it's okay to be gay and transgender, when a lot of people don't think that way.”
Dr. Collins arrives with the assistant principals and blows her whistle.
“Y'all, okay, stop this ruckus right now,” she says.
“BAN PANSGENDER!”
Their protest grows even louder. Darren and Aubrey squabble in Vietnamese.
Byron flies out of his chair and throws his arms up. “How dare you! The theater is for intelligence! It's for liberation! It's for spice! You are sullying this sacred space with your Thumbelina-ass IQs! You orcs! You absolute things!”
Dr. Collins blows her whistle again. The ruckus dies down, and she addresses the protestors.
“Listen! I hear you. Your message has been received.
I understand you don't like the musical that was chosen this year.
Ms. Easterling has to get approval from me every year, and I approved this show.
You have the freedom to protest and not audition for it.
You don't have the freedom to come in here and disrupt their auditions.”
“That's okay, everybody,” Roland tells his crew. “If the principal isn't going to stop this, then we've got another plan in place. Let's go.” He escorts them out of the auditorium.
“I'm sorry, y'all. We're going to have to end things here,” Ms. Easterling says to us with resignation. “I'll have the cast list up tomorrow.”