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firm hold of her shoulder and leaned closer. “For us RPSers there’s only one Stan. Stan the Man Scissors Hand, we call him.” He did an awkward bow, one that looked difficult to do in his tight jeans. “I’m Stanley. Manly Stanley, actually.” He straightened. “Did I mention that I’m the 16
    FORGIVEN
    Indiana state RPS champion?” He cocked his head. “You know what they say about RPS champions, don’t you?”
    Katy wasn’t waiting to find out. “Later, Stanley.” She clenched her teeth so she wouldn’t fall to the floor laughing. “I need to get going.”
    “Right.” He pointed both his index fingers at her and shot a kiss in her direction. “We’ll be talking afterwards then. I’m on a tight schedule, getting ready for the national meet, you know.” He held out his palm and hit it three times, ending with his hand flat. “But you’re in luck. I’m off tonight.”
    Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rhonda drop to the near est seat. She was bent over laughing.
    Katy’s mouth hung open. “Well… uh, maybe not tonight.” She took three steps backward. “But sometime, okay?”
    “Oh.” Stanley’s hands fell slowly to his side, and his shoulders slumped forward a little. “My practice schedule’s tight this week, but yeah, we could work something out.”
    “Sure.” She waved her fingers at him, turned her attention back to the kids, and said in a raised voice, “Okay, everyone, I need you all quiet. The first ten get in a line here in front of the room. Let’s get started.”
    Rhonda was already seated at the table. She was still snicker ing. “Sorry.” She moved closer to Katy, her voice low. “About Stanley, I mean.”
    “Not Stanley,” Katy whispered. “Manly Stanley.” She kicked Rhonda under the table. “I’ll pay you back. There’s a neighbor of the Flanigans looking for a nice girl for their son. He’s out of jail now, but at least he’s driving again.
    Bicycles, that is.”
    “Oooh, the anger.” Rhonda giggled. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” The first child was taking the stage, a darling boy with a baby face and big blue eyes. A hush fell across the room, and the boy came to the end of the platform. “Hi.” He flashed a gap-toothed smile at Katy. “My name’s Kyle Lanham. I’m eight years old, and I’ll be singing ‘I’m Flying’ from Peter Pan.”
    17
    KAREN KINGSBURY
    Katy positioned her yellow notepad in front of her and nodded at Kyle. One of the mothers was set up at the back of the stage. She clicked a series of buttons on the CD player, and the music started. Kids younger than eight years old couldn’t audition for CKT performances, so Katy rarely expected anything spectacular from the younger set. It was enough that they were willing to get in front of an audience and sing. Rarely did one of them stand out.
    But Kyle was the exception.
    His voice was sweet and clear, his eyes big and full of expression. When he reached the part where he sang, “I can fly, I can fly, I can fly!” an appreciative chuckle passed over the audience behind Katy. The kid had that certain intangible—a stage presence that couldn’t be manufactured.
    The orphans in Annie were usually cast as a group of little girls. But this boy definitely deserved a callback. When he finished singing, Katy smiled at him and then on her pad scribbled, Kyle Lanham, crowd-pleaser. Definite callback.
    Sarah Jo Stryker was in the first ten and was—as always— flawless. She sang an upbeat song, “The Wizard and I,” a fun tune from the new Broadway musical Wicked. The entire time she sang, Katy kept asking herself the obvious question: How can a twelve-year-old sing like that?
    Still, Sarah Jo had shot up recently and unless Katy and Rhonda and the Helmeses rethought their casting plan, SarahJo was too tall to play Annie. Katy could only imagine the verbal tirade that would come from Alice Stryker once that fact was revealed. Either way Sarah Jo definitely earned a callback, and