Take Two and . . . Rolling!

By Susan Beth Pfeffer

Six teenagers have been cast in prime time’s hottest new TV series—can they take their shot at the spotlight without sacrificing the things that matter most?

A starring role on the prime-time show Hard Time High could give Molly O’Malley the fame and fortune she craves. But the real payoff, besides a steady income, is something the on-the-road actress has wanted for years: the chance to put down roots and live a normal life. And she’d get to celebrate her real birthday and stop pretending she’s almost fifteen when she’s barely fourteen, a fact she only recently discovered. But even fame has its price; Molly’s mother wants a job on the show. And Molly has to keep up with her schooling.
 
The show is giving Rafe Marquez his first taste of stardom. Maybe one day he’ll be able to buy a mansion with a pool for his folks. But he’s never going to abandon his dream of being lead guitarist in a famous band.
 
Things are changing faster than Molly, Rafe, TJ, Miranda, Alison, and Bill ever imagined. Will this mark the beginning of new friendships and maybe even love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Feb 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781497682849

Susan Beth Pfeffer

Susan Beth Pfeffer is the author of many books for teens, including the New York Times best-selling novel Life As We Knew It, which was nominated for several state awards, and its companion books, The Dead and the Gone, This World We Live In, and The Shade of the Moon. She lives in Middletown, New York.

Book preview

1

Molly O’Malley stared at her birth certificate and cursed. There was no getting around the fact. Her parents had lied about her age, even to her.

Molly had been prepared to find out she was fourteen, although in her heart of hearts she thought of herself as a minimum of fifteen, and probably a lot closer to thirty-two. She figured she’d discover she was fourteen and eleven months, or fourteen and ten months at the very worst. Almost fifteen. Just a blink away from fifteen. So close to fifteen as to be fifteen for all practical purposes.

But no. She was fourteen all right, and just barely that. Fourteen years and not quite two months, to be exact, and expected to be at Dick Goldstein’s office within a half hour. Luckily, the cab drove up right on time. She gave the cab driver the address of Richgold Productions and tried to relax through the twenty-minute ride. It wasn’t so bad that she was young, she told herself. It wasn’t like Dick Goldstein had cast her in Hard Time High because she was practically fifteen. She’d gotten the part of Kathleen because she was the best one for the role. And she was, too. Filming the TV pilot for Hard Time High had been a nerve-racking experience, but she’d held her own against a group of talented and experienced television actors. When it came to playing a musical comedy orphan, there was nobody to beat her, but Hard Time High wasn’t a musical comedy and Kathleen wasn’t an orphan. In fact, Kathleen was a mother, a genuine unwed mother who was trying to make it through high school while raising her child at home.

It was a great part, and Molly thanked whatever fates cast her in the series. She loved playing Kathleen, and she loved being in the pilot, and when the call came saying the series had indeed been slotted for Wednesday evenings at ten P.M., she loved knowing she was going to be a part of something special and exciting, with a huge, steady paycheck. Now everything in her life was going to make sense. The big payoff her parents had dreamed of for years was hers. All those endless, exhausting nights of song and dance and just a touch of acting had resulted in a featured part in a TV series. And that meant Molly was going to be able to make a home for herself and her parents. No more hotels. She’d buy a house for them to live in. She might even get a pet, a cat, maybe, or a dog. Or maybe a cat and a dog. A cat and a dog and a mother and a father in a house with room for all of them, and a bedroom of her own. No more suitcases with room for a single teddy bear. No more roommates who you shared your life with for a month or two, never to be seen again. No more aching loneliness to swallow down and try to pretend didn’t really exist. A real house with a real family and real birthdays to celebrate—that was the payoff, and she was entitled.

Molly paid the cab driver and walked into the office building. When she’d first seen Richgold Productions, she’d felt like a hick, but now people smiled at her and she knew some of their names and they all seemed to know hers. She was somebody there, and she loved it.

She could tell she counted because Dick hardly kept her waiting once his secretary told him she was there. She liked the way he stood up when she entered his office, as though she were a real lady. She liked everything about his office, but she especially enjoyed the family pictures he had on his desk. Even though two of them were of his wretched daughter, Susie Goldstein, the walking Jell-O mold, Molly still got a kick out of them. Dick Goldstein was a man with a camera, a man with a gift for snapshots. When her parents joined her, she’d be sure to buy each of them a camera. They could all hang out together, taking pictures of each other, to make up for all those years that they’d been separated.

Sit down, Molly, Dick said, and he gestured to a chair opposite his desk.

So Molly sat. If Dick told her to run through fire, she’d do it for him. She owed him everything, and she knew he knew it. If that gave him an unfair advantage over her, it was one she could accept. She and Dick exchanged the standard pleasantries, and then Dick got down to business.

I have a couple of things I need to discuss with you, he said. First of all, let me tell you again how wonderful you were in the pilot. You have a quality about you, Molly, that simply leaps onto the screen. You can go very, very far in this business if you so choose.

Thank you, Molly replied. Dick had told her that once or twice before, and she guessed he knew what he was talking about. Of course it was always possible he said that to all the Hard Time High actors, but she didn’t care. She still liked the praise.

Now, I have something to tell you about Kathleen, and I hope you won’t regard it as bad news, Dick continued.

Molly immediately tensed up.

I’m afraid Kathleen has lost her baby, Dick said.

What do you mean? Molly asked.

The network decided it was simply too much for the show to have such a young unwed mother on it, Dick said. Naturally there was no talk of writing Kathleen off altogether, so it was decided she simply wouldn’t be a mother.

Is she pregnant? Molly asked. She’d heard it was horrible playing pregnant people. You had to wear a pillow all the time.

Dick shook his head. No pregnancy, no baby, no nothing. Instead, Kathleen’s going to be the oldest of four kids and her mother’s going to have run out on the family, so Kathleen’s going to be the surrogate mother. It’s a little more traditional than I would have liked, but the network’s comfortable with it and it explains Kathleen’s maternal streak. Do you think you can handle that?

Sure, Molly said. But I’ll miss my baby.

I’ll miss him too, Dick said. Half the reason we cast you was because of the way you handled that imaginary baby during the first audition. But you know networks.

Molly didn’t, but she nodded anyway.

Let me assure you, the part of Kathleen is going to be every bit as important as it was in the pilot, Dick declared. In fact, since the predicament she finds herself in is in no way of her own making, there’ll probably be more audience sympathy for her. And although I don’t want you to get your hopes up, there’s a chance of a possible incest story line between Kathleen and her father. My wife tells me that happens a lot in households where the mother reneges on her responsibilities. Surrogate mother, surrogate wife. In any event, we’re open to the idea of exploring it. With sensitivity and taste, of course.

Of course, Molly said. Poor Kathleen.

Dick smiled. Now that that’s taken care of, we can discuss other things, he said. I have the results of your testing, Molly.

Molly had suspected that was what the meeting was going to be about. Because she’d been on the road all her life, she hadn’t had a chance to go to school the way normal kids did. Miranda Newgate, for example, had every single one of her report cards from nursery school on. Molly, on the other hand, had little to prove that she was a high school sophomore, the same as T.J. Tyler and Miranda. So Dick had insisted that she undergo a battery of tests to determine what her academic level was.

I’ve had the tests analyzed and the analysis explained to me, Dick declared. In fact there are at least three educators who want to meet you, the results were so remarkable.

Was it possible she’d done better than she thought she had? Molly had taken those tests in an agony of sweat and terror.

They’ve never seen such erratic scoring in their lives, Dick continued. In fact it was suggested that perhaps two, or maybe even three, people took those tests. But I told them it was just you, all alone.

What do you mean erratic? Molly asked.

Dick looked over a sheet of paper. Your verbal abilities are excellent, he said. Your reading comprehension, for example, is on the college level. Your prose style is outstanding, very mature for your age. But you spell on the fourth-grade level.

Molly gulped.

Your American geography is outstanding, Dick continued. You seem to know every city in every state in the country. On the other hand, you think Paris is the capital of Italy and that Australia is a country in Asia.

It’s around there, isn’t it? Molly asked.

It’s on the same planet, that’s true, Dick replied. Your knowledge of American history consists of Washington and Lincoln, and you seem to be under the impression that World War Two was the first world war. On the other hand, when you were given some historical facts to analyze, you wrote an excellent essay about them.

Molly allowed herself a smile.

Except for the fact that you misspelled every third word, Dick said. Your basic arithmetic is sound, but you don’t seem to have heard of algebra. And while you have an unusual knowledge of astronomy, you’re under the impression that the liver is a drinking condition and that only women have kidneys. Molly, what’s going on?

I can explain, Molly said. You know how it is.

No I don’t, Dick replied. Do you care to tell me?

Molly licked her lips. Would it help if she told Dick she was younger than she thought she was? Somehow she doubted it.

I’ve been on the road, she said. "And sometimes, when I was in a show that had a lot of kids and was on a long tour, they’d hire a tutor and we’d get lessons wherever we went. But when I was in a show where there were only a couple of juveniles or where I was the only one, they’d take me to the local school and register me and I was supposed to get there on my own on days when we didn’t have rehearsals or matinees. Only then, in a month or a week we’d leave that town and go to the next one and I’d get registered all over again, and sometimes they were teaching the same thing and sometimes they were teaching something else altogether different, and once I was understudying and the lead broke her foot and I had to go on and they rehearsed me for thirty-six hours straight. I gave two performances, and they let me have three naps, and the rest of the time I rehearsed and rehearsed and rehearsed, and they felt so sorry for me they told me I didn’t have to go to school at all if I didn’t want to. So I didn’t for the rest of that tour. It was only a couple of months, and then I went back, but I didn’t know anything they were talking about anymore, so I just stopped going. When I was in Annie the first time and I was playing the littlest orphan, we had a tutor who taught us all about astronomy. I loved it, so I kept on reading about it. Sometimes I’d find the local library and go there and borrow their astonomy books. I didn’t have a card, but I’d always leave the books in my hotel room so they’d get returned after I left. You know how it is on the road. You have a lot of time to read."

And to learn American geography, Dick said. The hard way. By going to all those different cities.

And I know arithmetic because my parents made sure I did, Molly continued. So that I wouldn’t get cheated. Before I left them the first time, my father made sure I knew my dollars and dimes and quarters. I always double-check my change at a store. But I really did think only women had kidneys. Are you sure men have them too?

Dick laughed. They definitely do, he replied. "All right, Molly. I understand better now, but there’s something you have to understand. As long as you’re a cast member on Hard Time High, you are to regard your education as being as important as your acting. Even more important. There’s going to be a full-time tutor on the set for all of you, and I’m going to get regular reports on your education."

All right, Molly said.

And because you’re so far behind, you’re going to get special tutoring this summer, Dick declared. The other kids won’t have to, but if you’re going to catch up with them, you’ll need it. Then in the fall, we’ll decide whether you should join the older kids or whether you and Susie should share a tutor. Although, to be perfectly honest, unless you do a lot of catching up, it might not be fair to Susie to have to study with you.

Molly scowled. When she’d thought. about this conversation, she’d assumed she was sufficiently older than Susie that she could demand to be taught with Miranda and T.J. But now she’d lost that advantage. And special tutoring that summer wasn’t going to be any fun. How was she going to have the time to find a house for her family if she had to learn algebra instead?

I gather your parents didn’t keep track of your academic progress, Dick said.

We were apart, Molly replied. When we worked together, they’d go over my spelling words with me and stuff, but the rest of the time they weren’t there to do it. We all had more important things to worry about.

Nothing is more important than your education, Dick said sharply. I would have thought your parents knew that.

They did, Molly said, but it was a lie. She’d met Miranda’s parents, and they knew all about education. She’d seen the look of horror in their eyes when she’d tried to explain about how she’d gotten her schooling. It just had never occurred to her that Dick would feel that same way.

Speaking of your parents, have they made arrangements to move out here? Dick asked.

Not yet, Molly admitted.

Dick stared at her.

Well they couldn’t give up everything just because I was in a pilot, Molly said. And they’re both in shows now, and they can’t walk away from their obligations. If there was one thing she knew, that was it. You never walk away from your obligations, unless by some miraculous chance a better part comes along. Molly had left a touring dinner-theater production of Fiddler on the Roof as soon as she’d heard she’d been cast as Kathleen.

You can’t stay at the hotel indefinitely, Dick told her. "Some changes are going to have to