The Rapunzel Dilemma Page 18

  ‘N–no . . . my dad . . . my dad . . .’ Lily hesitated. Not for the first time she wondered just exactly what Philip had done to swing her an audition.

  She recalled that first morning in Marshall Drake’s office. What had he said? ‘The circumstances of your admission are extremely unusual’, and he’d totally been against giving her a second chance.

  What if the Drake had felt that way because her dad really had paid the Academy board thousands of dollars to buy Lily an audition?

  And if he had, what did that say about her?

  For the first time, Lily could see herself as others saw her and she understood why Phoebe and Gemma and Charlotte had been so angry the day of her audition. Maybe people hadn’t wanted to give Lily a chance because she honestly hadn’t deserved one.

  After all, the Academy was full of students like Phoebe who, despite her talent, had still had to do two summer schools in order to audition twice and whose family could barely afford the fees. How must it have felt for Phoebe to know that rich Lily de Tourney had bought her way into the LDA?

  Lily felt her legs tremble. She dropped back onto the window seat and put her head in her hands. No wonder the other students hated her – practically everything she’d done since arriving at the Academy had only confirmed their belief that she was nothing more than a spoilt, talentless, rich girl, who would never have been admitted on her own merits.

  She stared up at Ronan, who sat there silently, waiting for her to figure it out.

  CHAPTER 25

  Back in her room, Lily lay awake long after lights out. Her conversation with Ronan kept replaying over and over in her mind. He’d made her see things so differently – and not just her family and her dad’s ultimatum and the Academy. More than anything, Ronan had made her see herself. And the truth was, Lily didn’t like everything she saw.

  It was way past midnight when she finally gave up trying to sleep and crept out of bed and down to the common room. She curled herself into an armchair, propped her notepad on her knees and wrote:

  Dear Dad,

  It’s one in the morning and I promised you a letter. This isn’t the sort of letter you were expecting but I can’t sleep until I tell you what’s in my head! This guy I know reckons that being honest is more important than anything. Ronan’s an artist and he’s brave and smart and he knows about trouble. Way more than me, anyway, so I’m going to tell you the truth.

  The thing is, I was so mad when you told me I had to give up acting and learn the business. I’ve wanted to be an actor for as long as Angel’s wanted to design clothes and yet you decided that her goals were more important than mine. It hurt me so much, Dad, and worst of all I couldn’t tell Angel. I know it’s not her fault and I know you only want good things for me, but what you’re asking me to do is hard. Incredibly hard, and I don’t want to do it. The trouble is I can’t make Angel do it either so it’s a problem. Can’t you help me out, Dad? Isn’t there another way? I love training at the Academy and I’d hate to think that my acting skills will all be wasted on conferences and board meetings. I know the company is super important and I want to do my part, but couldn’t that include being a really great actor?

  I hope you and Simone are having an awesome time sailing the South Pacific. I miss you.

  Lots of love,

  Lily xxx

  PS I hate to ask, but did you pay Marshall Drake to let me audition? Just wondering.

  Lily went down to breakfast feeling better than she had in ages. She couldn’t see Ronan or Max, but there was an empty chair across from Phoebe and Charlotte. Feeling kind of nervous, but determined to start building bridges, Lily carried her breakfast over to their table and sat down.

  ‘Hi,’ she said brightly. ‘The eggs look good.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Phoebe.

  ‘Hello,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Where’s Gem?’ asked Lily, buttering her toast as if she hadn’t noticed their puzzled looks.

  ‘She’s talking to Annabel about the Dane’s critique. The third years had theirs yesterday.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Lily. She put down her toast.

  ‘Not hungry?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘Not now,’ replied Lily. ‘I’d totally forgotten about today’s critique.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Phoebe. ‘I think I was awake half the night worrying about it.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as people say,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘I don’t know, Char,’ said Gemma, dropping into the chair beside Phoebe. ‘Annabel said hers was horrible. Apart from everything else, the Dane told her she was “thin on presence”.’

  ‘What does that even mean?’ asked Phoebe in a worried voice.

  Justin leaned across from the next table and said, ‘Apparently she made Alastair Prewitt cry.’

  Imran turned in his chair, his face grim. ‘I heard she told Darcy Johnson he should seriously consider quitting acting and getting a nine-to-five job so he’d have a reliable income!’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ gasped Lily.

  Even Charlotte paled on hearing that.

  ‘It’s going to be horrible,’ said Gemma. ‘I bet the Dane’ll tell me I should give up!’

  ‘No, she won’t,’ said Lily firmly. ‘Look how good you were as Helena yesterday, and I know she was impressed because I saw her smiling during your scene with Fatima as Hermia, and you know the Dane hardly ever cracks a smile in class.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Gemma, staring at Lily suspiciously.

  ‘Actually, that’s true, Gem,’ corroborated Charlotte. ‘I meant to tell you. The Dane was definitely smiling when you did the “foolish heart” scene.’

  Lily gave Gemma and the others a tentative smile and said hesitantly, ‘I wondered . . . would you . . . do you guys want to run through your lines during lunchbreak? I mean, before we face the Dane. I could cue you if you like.’

  The three girls stared at her, then to her relief Phoebe smiled and said, ‘Thanks, Lily, that’d be great. I could really use another opinion of my Hermia interpretation.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Charlotte slowly, ‘I wouldn’t mind going through my final Hippolyta speech before Acting class.’

  Gemma said nothing.

  ‘Great,’ said Lily. She got up and gathered her breakfast things. ‘I have to post a letter, so I’ll see you in Combat.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Gemma, as Lily turned to go, ‘if you wanted to cue me as Helena,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’d appreciate it.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Lily, smiling.

  It wasn’t quite as easy cueing Charlotte and Gemma as Lily had hoped, but Phoebe was a calming influence on everyone and so, by the time the bell went, they’d actually managed to get through quite a lot of the play.

  They were just packing up when Max walked into the studio.

  ‘Oh, hey,’ he said in surprise. ‘You guys look busy.’

  ‘Just a little rehearsal before the Dane’s critique, Max,’ said Phoebe.

  He rolled his eyes, ‘Not you, too,’ he groaned. ‘Harry and Justin and the others have been driving me mad all lunchtime.’

  ‘So, not worried about your own performance, Max?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘Not a bit.’ He grinned. ‘Have any of you guys seen Darcy?’

  They shook their heads and moved past him into the hall.

  ‘You coming, Max?’ asked Phoebe. ‘Remember we’ve got a double period painting backdrops with the Duck before Acting class.’

  ‘Yeah, in a minute.’ He touched Lily’s arm, ‘Can I talk to you for a second?’ he whispered.

  Lily watched the others move away. ‘Sure. What’s up?’

  ‘Come in here.’ Max pulled her back into the empty studio and shut the door.

  ‘What’s going on, Max? The bell’s gone. I need to –’

  ‘Can you lend me a hundred pounds?’

  She stared at him. ‘You still haven’t paid back the two hundred I lent you last week.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. That’s right.�
� Max pulled a face. ‘So, the thing is, Dad sent the money through to me, but he typed the wrong account number and the money got sent back.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Dad’s notorious for having fat fingers. But the money’s due on Monday, so I just need a hundred to tide me over the weekend.’

  ‘I guess . . .’ said Lily, looking at him doubtfully. Max’s face was flushed and his eyes were bright and pleading.

  ‘Please, Lily,’ he begged. ‘I thought we were friends.’

  ‘We are friends. Of course we are. It’s just that a hundred pounds seems like a lot.’ She pulled her wallet from her duffel bag. ‘You must be going somewhere nice.’

  ‘Not really . . . I mean, yes, I am . . . The thing is, it’s Darcy’s birthday and, well – you know how I feel about him and a few of us are taking him out and by the time I’ve pitched in for a gift and the meal and everything . . .’ He forced a smile. ‘You know how it is. And it’s not like you can’t afford it,’ he added a touch sullenly as Lily pulled a couple of fifties free from the notes in her wallet.

  ‘I’m going out with friends, too, Max,’ she said defensively. ‘I leave tonight for the whole weekend and I’m expecting to pay my way.’ She held out the notes.

  He had the grace to look a little ashamed as he took the money. ‘I’m sorry, Lily. It’s nice of you to help me out and I know I’m being a total prat! It’s just that Darcy and I . . . you know . . . I just want to give him an awesome birthday.’

  Lily imagined what she’d do if it were Ronan’s birthday, ‘It’s okay, Max, I totally get it. Wish Darcy happy birthday from me.’

  ‘Thanks, Lily,’ said Max, looking relieved. ‘I’ll pay you back next week, I promise.’ He grinned. ‘Assuming we survive the Dane’s critique.’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ groaned Lily. ‘I’d actually managed to forget about it while reading lines with Charlotte and the others.’

  ‘It looked pretty friendly in here,’ said Max. ‘Do I take it that past sins have been forgiven?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Lily seriously. ‘It’d be awesome if people would stop seeing me as the enemy. Especially as I didn’t do any of those horrible things.’

  ‘Maybe it was Gemma, trying to keep you from being friends with Charlotte and Phoebe,’ suggested Max, taking her arm as they walked towards the art room.

  Lily wrinkled her forehead. ‘But Gemma’s stuff got trashed, too.’

  ‘Maybe she was trying to deflect suspicion,’ said Max. ‘After all, none of her things actually got damaged or stolen, did they? Not like Phoebe’s quilt or Charlotte’s jacket. And Gemma can be such a –’

  ‘Actually, Gemma’s okay,’ interrupted Lily hastily. ‘I know she can be tactless sometimes and a bit intense, but I think that’s because she’s insecure.’

  ‘You seem to have come round – oh, hey, Darcy.’ Max stopped abruptly as the older boy came down the hall towards them. ‘I was looking for you.’

  ‘And here I am,’ said Darcy, throwing his arm across Max’s shoulders. ‘And looking forward to my birthday bash!’ He ran his finger down Max’s cheek, and there was something in the gesture that reminded Lily of a play she’d seen on Broadway. But before she could think which it was, Darcy said, ‘Let’s go somewhere private and talk.’

  ‘We should go, Max,’ said Lily abruptly.

  ‘You go ahead,’ replied Max. ‘I’ll be along in a minute.’

  ‘Uh, sure. I’ll see you in the art room. Okay?’

  ‘Yeah, great,’ replied Max, but not as if he’d really heard her.

  Darcy linked his arm through Max’s and walked him away down the corridor.

  As Lily watched them go, she suddenly remembered the play. It was Richard the Third, Shakespeare’s propaganda play about a treacherous, two-faced, hunchbacked king. Lily wondered why it should have reminded her of Darcy – after all, he was anything but hunchbacked and people loved him. And yet . . . she couldn’t help wishing Max were involved with someone else.

  Unfortunately, unless Max wanted to talk to her about it, his love life was none of her business.

  Lily sighed and headed to the art room.

  CHAPTER 26

  In the art room the Duck had organised everyone into groups and set them to work filling in the shapes she’d drawn on the canvas backdrops.

  ‘You see, dear,’ Lily heard her tell Gemma, ‘you need to apply the paint with a relaxed wrist. This is Titania’s bower, where she takes Bottom, the ass, in her arms and sleeps with him. I see it as a tranquil place, so it is essential that it be painted with a light, airy hand.’

  Lily could see Gemma and the others trying not to laugh, and she had to repress her own giggles when the Duck seized the brush from Charlotte’s hand and waved it energetically. Spots of green paint flew through the air and spattered Charlotte’s cheek.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ exclaimed Miss Potter, dabbing at Charlotte’s face and turning the green spots into a large green smear. ‘Perhaps you’d better go to the bathroom and wash.’ She gestured vaguely towards the door and saw Lily. Her eyes lit up.

  ‘Excellent! Just the person we need. You can take Charlotte’s brush.’ She handed Lily the paintbrush and steered her towards the backdrop. ‘Just remember, dear, happy strokes – think relaxed, loving thoughts so that Titania’s bower will have the presence it needs in the play.’

  She wandered away and, along with the rest of the class, Lily gave herself up to the joys of slapping lots of coloured paint on canvas.

  It was only when the Duck asked them to stop painting and wash their brushes that Lily remembered that Acting class was next. And it quickly became obvious that she wasn’t the only one thinking of the Dane’s critique. As the bell went, a pall of gloom seemed to descend over the art room and people made their way to the drama hall as if they were going to their own executions.

  The Dane wasted no time in getting started. ‘You have exactly five minutes in which to perform your chosen character. Once everyone has finished I will give each of you a short verbal review.’ She stared at each of them in turn and then said, ‘Some of you may find this difficult because I will not be pulling any punches. But these critiques are for your benefit. Remember that and it may make it easier.’ She sat down at the front of the class, pointed at Fatima and said, ‘Begin.’

  As the class progressed, Lily’s anxiety grew. By the time the Dane called on her to perform, she was wobbly with nerves.

  She knew she was in trouble the moment she spoke her first line: ‘How now spirit, whither wander you?’ She just wasn’t in the zone. In rehearsal she’d been to the world of fairy, cavorted with goblins and danced with elves; she’d felt light and mischievous and utterly Puckish. Today she just wasn’t there at all.

  Lily tried to infuse her movements with the fairy grace she’d found before, but the harder she tried the worse they became. She felt robotic and, try as she might, she could not reproduce the shape of the speech as she’d worked on it. She could feel herself copying the inflections instead of inhabiting them, and knew the words were lifeless even as they left her lips.

  She tried losing herself in the role, she tried going through the circles of concentration, tried focusing on her objectives and playing strong actions – all as she’d been taught. In desperation, she even tried visualising Ronan’s impish carving. But nothing worked.

  It was a huge relief when it was over.

  As she watched the rest of her classmates perform, Lily was a little comforted to see that she was not the only one struggling.

  Nearly two hours later, the performances ended and the critiques began. Lily was soon lost in the litany of commentary and advice. She watched people’s faces as the Dane gave her appraisals and she could see how hard it was for some of them to hear what she had to say, despite the unerring accuracy of her remarks.

  Inwardly, Lily couldn’t help agreeing with her when she told Justin, ‘I found your performance unconvincing’, or Rachel that, ‘I didn’t understand what you were trying to convey’,
or when she asked Harry, ‘Were you trying to be funny? Bottom is one of Shakespeare’s greatest comedic creations – he is meant to be funny.’

  To Lily’s relief, some of the Dane’s criticisms were almost lighthearted. She told Liam, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Oberon with shoulders as tense as yours’, and Imran that he ‘needed to wear his character lightly – more like a summer suit than a suit of armour’. But Lily’s heart thumped uncomfortably when she explained to Gemma with a kind sort of cruelty that, ‘I can see you are trying hard, but perhaps too hard. Try to remember that when you are acting, we do not wish to see that you are acting’, and to Phoebe that, ‘You have to dig deeper. Your acting is sincere, but you lack emotional range.’

  Her appraisal of Charlotte was brutally frank: ‘Voice alone will not be enough to carry you to the heights, Charlotte. You are too complacent, too convinced of your own ability. If I can see it, others will, too.’ And Max hardly fared better: ‘I’m not saying you’re not talented, Max. I am simply saying that your performance was not very good!’

  For one awful moment, Lily thought Max was going to answer back. She heard his sharp intake of breath and saw the colour flame angrily in his cheeks. He moved restlessly in his chair and when Lily put her hand gently on his arm he threw it off before slumping back down and glaring at the Dane.

  The Dane didn’t seem to notice and merely turned to the next student. As each new critique ended, Lily prayed that hers would be next. She could feel the tension rising inside her and she longed for it to be over.

  It was almost time for the bell when the Dane finally turned to her and Lily realised she was the only one left.

  She faced the great actor and tried not to feel nervous.

  It was impossible.

  ‘Ah, Lily.’ The Dane heaved an enormous sigh and Lily’s heart dropped into her shoes. She braced herself, but nothing could have prepared her for what was to come.

  Arathula Dane actually stood up and moved to the centre of the room. She gazed at the class for a moment and then turned to Lily and said sadly, ‘I watch you as Puck and I ask myself, Where is Puck? Puck the trickster, Puck the sprite? Where is the magical creature who loves to tease us and play with our emotions? Where is that canny, clever, mercurial being who carries the play? I want to see that “merry wanderer of the night”! Instead, your Puck is naïve, shallow and artificial. Where is the emotional depth? The understanding of human experience? I do not see the shrewd, quick-witted sprite. I see only a sheltered child who knows nothing of the world.’