Page 19 of Intermission

“Good. After I said it, I thought...” He shrugs and gives my arm a quick squeeze. “I’ve seen you on the stage. You’ve got this, Madeleine Faith.”

Our eyes lock. A rich, sweet sensation—a rush of blissful, childlike glee that is at the same time oddly ancient and wise—constricts my chest. I hold completely still, almost afraid to breathe and lose it.

A name is called. The auditorium hushes. A piano plays. Someone sings. But the song and the singer are someplace else, where time is fluid and in motion, a place set apart from the warm and welcome bubble that’s captured me and Noah.

The dry, wintry air forces me to blink. Noah blinks, too, and the spell is broken. He pulls his hand from my arm. Shyly at first, as if we’re both embarrassed to be caught within such an unguarded, mysterious thing-of-a-moment, we smile.

“Madeleine Prescott!” A male voice calls from the stage.

“That’s you,” Noah whispers when I don’t respond. He winks. “Break a leg.”

That is a distinct possibility. I can’t evenfeelmy legs.

“Madeleine Prescott!” The voice calls again. “Is there a Madeleine Prescott here?”

I shoot to my feet. “Here!”

Noah smiles. “You can do it. Just believe that you’re still sixteen going on seventeen.”

Easy enough, since it’s true. “Iamsixteen going on seventeen.” I give a firm nod, and with a little smirk, I add, “and I’m no angel.”

“Attagirl.” His wink is melt-worthy, yet fortifying. “You’ve got this.”

Buoyed by Noah’s confidence in my abilities, I make my way to the stage, refocusing my mind as I trek up the aisle.

By the time I read Liesl’s first line, I own it. It only remains to be seen if the director agrees.

And if the town of Leopold will accept a Liesl who comes from Kanton.

“I got a call back!” I do a little happy dance and then run down the stairs. I’m not all the way down yet when I shout toward the first person I see. “Mom! I got a callback!”

“Who called you back?”

“Dr. Hitchings! The director of the Leopold Community Theatre!” My phone’s glittery pink case winks in the light as I wave it around. “He asked if I could come in Tuesday evening for a callback. A second audition.”

“Aww,” Mom says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Did the first one not go very well?”

“No. It went fine. Great, even! I mean,I got a callback!”

“So a callback is agoodthing?”

“Yes! It’s awesome.”

Mom laughs. “Well, congratulations, honey. I hope you need a big old cast and at least nine stitches from all the broken legs.”

“Right.” I laugh, a giggle, really. I’m breathless. “Thanks.”

Mom’s brow furrows. “But don’t you have Show Choir practice on Tuesday?”

“Show Choir is right after school.” My lips almost hurt from smiling so widely. “My callback isn’t until six forty-five.”

“You won’t be out late, will you? Didn’t you say you have a test on Wednesday?”

“I was planning to study with Jenna and Cole anyway, and I’ll be there by eight at the latest, home by ten, ten-thirty. No big.”

“Everything counts toward college.” She crosses her arms. “One bad test can wreck your whole semester’s G.P.A.”

“I know, I know.” My shoulders slump on a sigh. “But it’s U.S. History. With the extra credit I turned in last week, I’m already over a one hundred average. Don’t worry.”