Sean kisses me on the cheek when we take our bow. Then I run backstage to change for the finale and sit in the darkened wings listening to Gigi singing her solo. Gigi came back today with her leg in a cast (but scheduled to heal up) and ruined Misty’s night by saying she could do her Judy Garland number. They cut her dance routine. Instead, she’s singing a ballad. It floats backstage to where I’m sitting in the gray darkness. I’m so glad I can perform. I have a chance.
After the finale, Rowena catches me backstage. “You were incredible.”
“Thanks. I’m really happy.”
“I saw your mom in the audience. That’s great that she came.”
Now is the moment when I should pretend intense interest in makeup removal. But instead, I face Rowena. “Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“About what?”
“About New York. I lied when I said I asked my mom and she said no. I never asked. I’m sorry.”
“What? Why not?”
“A lot of reasons. Stupid ones. Being afraid, maybe. But that’s over now, and I really want to go, and I think she’ll let me. I’ll talk to her about it this time. I promise.”
Rowena’s concerned expression has changed, and she’s staring at something behind me. I turn and realize she’s looking at Mom. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Mom is rushing toward me. She’s removed her jacket to reveal a glittery, tight T-shirt. She’s yelling, “Baby! Oh, baby, how could you not have told me about this?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. I’m apologizing to everyone today. “I’m glad you made it.”
“I got the car jump-started. And I had to ask my friend, Linda, to take over my open house. But I wouldn’t have missed it. You were so beautiful! And La Traviata.” She turns to Rowena. “That’s my very favorite opera in the world.”
I gesture toward Rowena. “Mom, you remember my voice teacher.”
Mom smiles her classic Valerie McCourt smile, the one on the real estate signs. “Of course. It’s Rowena, right?”
“Right, and…”
“Well, I have to congratulate you. You’ve done an incredible job with her. She’s improved. A lot.” I feel a flicker of annoyance. I push it aside.
Meanwhile, Rowena’s stammering, “Er…”
“When she was a little girl, she used to sing around the house all the time, and it got so I could barely think straight from all the racket. But now … you are one incredible teacher.”
Okay, more than a flicker.
“Thank you. Caitlin’s a wonderful student.”
“And may I add,” Mom says, “that you have the loveliest coloring. I can make that gray thing work for you, and if you’d like to set up an appointment, I could show you some creams that would fluff those fine lines right out.”
Okay. Way, way more than a flicker. Stop talking, Mom.
But Rowena’s still being gracious. “Maybe so. Can you come before Caitlin’s voice lesson next week, then stay and listen to her? I have been thinking I don’t devote enough effort to my beauty routine.”
“Honey, you can never be too young or too old for proper skin care. Skin is like a child. It needs nurturing. Nourishment.”
Rowena nods. “I’m so glad you phrased it that way because there’s another thing that requires nurturing. A talent like Caitlin’s needs a place where it can grow. So perhaps while we’re doing the consultation, I can tell you about an excellent summer program I’ve suggested to her. I understand she hasn’t mentioned it to you yet, but…”
They keep talking. I remove my stage makeup. They’re doing fine without me. Maybe some things about Mom aren’t as annoying to other people as they are to me. Maybe part of the reason she’s a successful sales person is she’s outgoing and charming.
“Well, it would be hard for me, being alone all summer,” Mom’s telling Rowena, and I accidentally stick a finger into my eye from the surprise. “But it sounds like a wonderful program, and I guess I’ll have to get used to it, if she’s going to go away to college soon.”
Rowena laughs. “Yeah, I’m an empty-nester myself now. This program could even help Caitlin to get a college scholarship.”
“That would be great,” Mom says. “I never finished college myself. It’s something I always regretted.”
She looks away, a little sad. I never thought of my mom as having regrets. I always assumed she got what she wanted—the guy, the house, the free ride. It never occurred to me she might have wanted to be something other than just my mom.
I think about what Miss Davis said, the day Gigi and I did the Glass Menagerie scene. Do you think Amanda ever had any dreams? I wonder if Mom did.
* * *
Opera_Grrrl’s Online Journal
* * *
Subject: Dreams
Date: December 12
Time: 9:13 a.m.
Listening 2: “O Mio Babbino Caro” (“Oh, My Beloved Daddy”) (Have you noticed that there are never any *mothers* in opera?)
Weight: 114 lbs.
When my mom was young, she wanted 2 be a fashion designer. She was going 2 regular college, but then she got a scholarship offer at a big design school in NYC. She was going 2 transfer her sophomore year. She wanted 2 go 2 Paris 2.
Then she met my dad @ a frat party. They fell in love (“As in love as you can get at a frat party .......... which apparently isn’t very,” she said). She got pregnant and dropped out of college 2 get married. I already know the rest of the story.
Anyway, we talked abt. that & then we started talking abt. my dreams, abt. how I want 2 be a singer. And now that she understands that I really *do* have talent, that I have a shot @ it, she’s actually being nice abt. it. “I just hope you don’t get your heart broken like mine. They say there’s a broken heart for every light on Broadway. Or wherever they sing opera.”
But I told her my heart might break if I *don’t* at least try. And she seemed 2 get that. We talked abt. the opera program in New York, and once she found out it wouldn’t cost a lot of $$, she said I can send an audition tape. And I can go, if I get in! And I think she actually *wants* me 2 get in!
And I think I will!!! Can you believe it???
* * *
CHAPTER 42
I sit by Sean and Gigi at lunch. We’ve been talking about the cast party, which was pretty wild. (Highlight: Rex declared his love for me and said he’d even learn to sing opera if I wanted him to. He’s been learning “Caro Mio Ben.”) I’m eating a salad with chicken on it, and Gigi hasn’t found it necessary to comment on that.
“I was hoping you could help me out with something,” I tell them.
“I’m all ears,” Sean says.
I tell them about the summer program. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go, but now I think I do.” I look at Sean. “I know you’re super-busy getting ready for college auditions, but I was hoping maybe you could help me practice.”
Gigi has her leg in a cast. She told me it was a good thing because it keeps her from kicking Misty’s butt for trying to get her solo. “That sounds incredible,” she says. “Of course you have to go.”
“I’ll miss the choral camp,” I say. “And I wish I could be with you guys.”
“We’ll be here in the fall,” she says. “If I had an opportunity like this, I’d drop you so fast…”
I laugh. “At least you’re honest.”
And I realize that yeah, she really is. That’s the thing about having real friends like Gigi and Sean. You feel like you can tell them the truth about stuff in your life, and they won’t rag on you or try and use it against you, or try to talk you out of it because it doesn’t fit with what they want. If I’d never come to this school, I wouldn’t have ever had that.
Sean says, “The program sounds incredible.”
“If I don’t get in, I’ll go to choral camp with you guys.”
“You’ll get in,” Sean says. “With a coach like me, you’ll nail your auditions.”
I grin at him. The lunchtime conga line is
snaking around the cafeteria again. Gus, at its head, yells, “Hey, Diva! Nice job in Drama today.”
Misty hits him on the shoulder, but he makes the line swirl around our table and comes back. “Are you ever going to join us?” he asks me. “Conga-ing, I mean?”
“I don’t … I…”
“Anyone can conga. It’s just…” Gus mimes an exaggerated maraca shake as he dances away.
I look at Sean and Gigi. “How about it?”
Sean shrugs. “Why not?”
Gigi says, “I think my orthopedist would have some big reasons why not for me. But you two go.”
I stand and hold out my hand to Sean. “Shall we?”
He takes it, and we run to catch up with the conga line.
CHAPTER 43
Lots of girls I know like to say they’re divas. “I’m such a diva!” they say, while they’re rubbing your nose in some five-hundred-dollar shoes their daddy bought them, or whatever. But a diva’s a lot more than most sixteen-year-old rich grrrls can comprehend. I plan to be a diva someday—the real kind who sings and gets flowers thrown onstage. But first, I have to make the perfect audition tape.
So I do.
* * *
Opera_Grrrl’s Online Journal
* * *
Subject: Summer Opera Program in New York—Accepted!
Date: April 10
Time: 2:13 p.m.
Listening 2: “Brindisi” from La Traviata
Feeling: Ecstatic
Weight: 115 lbs.
YESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Joyce Sweeney, Lara Zeises, Nancy Werlin, Marjetta Geerling, Toni Markiet, Catherine Onder, George Nicholson, and my family for their help and support. Special thanks to Marie Baker and the teachers and students at Marlboro High School in New York, for talking to me about Nick, Caitlin, boyfriends and girlfriends, why I needed to write another book about these characters, and for helping me put together what I wanted Caitlin’s story to be about, and what I didn’t want it to be about too.
Diva
Caitlin’s Favorite Operas
* * *
Are You a Diva?
* * *
Hey, Did This Stuff Really Happen?
* * *
Caitlin’s Favorite Operas
You’ve already heard all about La Traviata (by Giuseppe Verdi), which is my very favorite opera. I thought I’d tell you about some others I like almost as much.
La Bohème by Giacomo Puccini. The plot’s pretty basic. A starving “bohemian” artist, Rodolfo, falls in love with a poor girl. Eventually, she dies. What makes it cool is the very romantic music. Like, when Rudy meets Mimi, it’s in the hallway. She comes over to get him to light her candle because she has no fuel. He sings a song called “Che Gelida Manina” (which means “What a Frozen Little Hand”). If you watch the movie Rent (which is totally based on La Bohème, only with AIDS instead of tuberculosis), you’ll see this scene made into a song called “Light My Candle.”
The character I’d play in La Bohème is Musetta, Mimi’s friend. It’s a good part. Most high soprano characters are idiots who go crazy, or girls like Peyton and Ashley, who only care about flirting. Musetta starts out that way (she sings a song called “Quando M’en Vo’ Soletta,” which is basically about how hot she is!), but she actually grows a soul in the course of the opera! When Mimi gets sick, Musetta sells her earrings to buy her medicine. “Quando M’en Vo’ Soletta” is one of the most famous opera arias. You’ve definitely heard it in commercials for pizza and spaghetti sauce!
Lucia di Lammermoor by Gaetano Donizetti. Donizetti wrote over seventy operas. This is probably his most popular. A lot of the girls in Donizetti’s operas go nuts, and Lucia is no exception. When Lucia goes mad (because her parents won’t let her marry her true love, Edgardo, and make her marry ugly, old Arturo instead), she stabs her husband, and then sings about it to all the wedding guests (who’ve been waiting downstairs for the, um, wedding night to take place). There’s this cool part where Lucia sings along with a flute, which is supposed to represent, I assume, all the little birdies twittering around in Lucia’s head. How can anyone think opera is boring???
The Tales of Hoffmann by Jacques Offenbach. This French opera is totally weird! It’s based on the stories of E.T.A. Hoffmann (who also wrote the story of The Nutcracker), but Hoffmann is also a character in it. It’s about four girls he falls in love with. The coloratura (my voice) part is a mechanical doll named Olympia, which Hoffmann believes is real because he’s wearing magic glasses given to him by the evil Coppélius. But really great sopranos like Joan Sutherland played all four soprano roles. I’d love to do that!
The Old Maid and the Thief by Gian Carlo Menotti. Yes, operas come in English too! This one is about an old lady, Miss Todd, and her maid, Laetitia, who live together. When a hot, young wanderer named Bob comes wandering by, they try anything to get him to stay. They even knock over a liquor store to get him booze (because, of course, respectable ladies like them couldn’t be seen buying the stuff). Laetitia sings this beautiful aria called “Steal Me, Sweet Thief,” about how she doesn’t want to be an old maid (reminds me of Mom). Finally, Bob runs off with Laetitia.
Menotti wrote other operas in English, including The Telephone, which is about this guy who wants to propose to his girlfriend, but he can’t get her off the phone. This was even before cell phones, but still relatable.
Another American composer is Carlisle Floyd, whose most famous opera is Susannah. It’s about a girl from Tennessee, who everyone thinks is a sleaze even though she didn’t do anything. He also wrote an opera based on Of Mice and Men.
Turandot by Giacomo Puccini. (Can I just say … don’t you just love the name, Giacomo? Jack for short, maybe? Don’t you think a guy named Giacomo would have to be a hottie? It’s pronounced “Jee-a-CO-mo,” by the way. And “Poo-CHEE-nee.”) The story of Princess Turandot is a lot like Princess Jasmine in Aladdin. Turandot’s supposed to get married but doesn’t want to. So guys come from all over, trying to win her hand. Turandot’s a little bloodthirsty for Disney, though. She makes all the husband-elects take a test and, if they fail, off with their heads! Calàf, the tenor, passes, but tells her she doesn’t have to marry him if she can find out his name (here it gets a little like Rumpelstiltskin). Of course, they fall in love in the end. Calàf’s aria, “Nessun Dorma,” is probably the most famous aria ever.
Are You a Diva?
Do you have what it takes to be a diva?
Or are you just a girl who likes to shop?
Find out by taking this quiz.
1. You hear from a reliable source that your best friend was kissing your boyfriend. What do you do?
(a.) Plan your revenge—maybe cleverly catching them in the act and humiliating them in a comical way like Susanna, in The Marriage of Figaro.
(b.) Go shopping, buy a killer outfit, then text message all your friends and get them to give her dagger looks.
(c.) Sit down and have a heart-to-heart with them, letting them know you know. You’ll take your time assessing your friendship and not do anything rash.
(d.) Practice like crazy. Singing high F’s is almost like screaming, and you always feel better when you immerse yourself in art. At least now you’ll have more time for that.
2. Which adjectives best describe you?
(a.) tricky and melodramatic
(b.) cool, powerful, and very, very fashionable
(c.) sensible and kind
(d.) focused and ambitious
3. The best thing a girl can do for herself is:
(a.) get her way at all costs.
(b.) It’s hard to decide … maybe hair extensions! Oh, and new shoes!
(c.) be well-rounded, making time for a lot of different things in her life.
(d.) set a goal and work hard toward it, allowing no distractions.
4.
On a first date, you like to go to …
(a.) a Parisian café with lots of cool artists like in La Bohème, or maybe a dark balcony where you can declare your undying love, like in Romeo and Juliet.
(b.) the most expensive restaurant in town, or maybe a club, the type of place where they only let in people who look hotttt!
(c.) someplace casual where you can talk and get to know each other.
(d.) the opera, of course, and if he yawns once, he’s not boyfriend material.
5. Describe the perfect guy.
(a.) He’s handsome, mysterious, and completely forbidden to you, due to a family feud, a curse, or maybe because he’s with someone else.
(b.) He has lots of $$ and wants to spend it on you. And of course worships you.
(c.) He’s funny, smart, and brings you daisies he picked himself.
(d.) You don’t have time for guys unless they support your ambitions.
6. A great party is:
(a.) a ball at a mansion or castle—beautiful gowns, fabulous décor, lots of wine, and maybe a whiff of scandal, like A Masked Ball by Verdi.
(b.) at someone’s house when their parents aren’t home. All the coolest people are there, and all the losers are crying because they didn’t get invited.
(c.) your closest friends spending time together on a Saturday night.
(d.) Who has time to party? Alcohol and drugs are bad for the vocal cords, and staying up late makes you too tired to practice. No, thanks!
7. Your best friend:
(a.) supports you in all your harebrained schemes, including that time you tried to elope.
(b.) isn’t pretty enough to show you up. She’s got great clothes, but lets you be the star.