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151 pages

English

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A funny and timely debut YA about the toxic masculinity at a famous improv comedy camp Seventeen-year-old Zelda Bailey-Cho has her future all planned out: improv camp, then Second City, and finally Saturday Night Live. She's thrilled when she lands a spot on the coveted varsity team at a prestigious improv camp, which means she'll get to perform for professional scouts-including her hero, Nina Knightley. But even though she's hardworking and talented, Zelda's also the only girl on Varsity, so she's the target for humiliation from her teammates. And her 20-year-old coach, Ben, is cruel to her at practice and way too nice to her when they're alone. Zelda wants to fight back, but is sacrificing her best shot at her dream too heavy a price to pay? Equal parts funny and righteous, Unscripted is a moving debut novel that Printz Award winner Nina LaCour calls "a truly special book, written at exactly the right time."

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	21 avril 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781683358244
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-4084-8
eISBN 978-1-68335-824-4
Text copyright 2020 Nicole Kronzer
Book design by Steph Stilwell
Published in 2020 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.
Amulet Books is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
ABRAMS The Art of Books 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007 abramsbooks.com
FOR DANNY, ELIZA AND ELEANOR
CHAPTER ONE
I stared at the dashboard clock: only two more hours.
Twisting my frizzy curls into a bun, I tucked the seatbelt under my armpit and pressed my forehead against the Subaru s window. Now that we were in southern Wyoming, the view was miles of flat grasslands punctuated by bedraggled fence posts that reminded me of old, weathered cowboys.
I imagined the cowboy fence posts in conversation.
What s up, Earl?
What s up ? As in vertical ? Just me, Clyde. And barely at that!
I smirked. Some jokes were best left where they started: in my head.
Small gray mounds suddenly peeked above the horizon.
I frowned. Were those mounds mountains ?
Mountains meant Colorado. Colorado meant-
I glanced to my right at my brother, Will-he of the shaggy black hair, and, since crossing into Wyoming, the brand-new boyfriend. While he and Jonas swore up and down when we left Minnesota that they were just friends, Jonas was now curled up under Will s right arm, his eyes closed.
Hey, Will, I whispered, watching him smooth Jonas s dark brown curls back from his light brown forehead. There s only two more hours until we get to camp. Will you run one-liners with me?
He closed his eyes and sighed. Nhhh-nnnnn. Jonas is sleeping.
Sure he was.
Will, I whispered again.
His eyes stayed closed.
I exhaled slowly through my nose and peeked out the window.
The mountains loomed larger.
I felt sick.
You ve really done it this time, Zelda. You and your huge mouth and your huger ideas. Improv camp? And not just any improv camp, but THE improv camp?
A road sign promising a rest stop in ten miles whipped past our car at six million miles per hour.
This trip was going too fast. We were going to be there, and I wasn t going to be prepared.
Will. I nudged him again.
He opened one eye.
I m not ready.
He closed it again. Yes, you are. You sent in your script.
I know.
And your space work and character work are good.
But-
They re good , Zelda, and you know it.
Okay, maybe, but that stuff s just about being truthful in the moment and connecting with your fellow players to tell a story. I can do that-
You re good at that.
Thank you, but, one-liners, Will. I freeze up. Will you please help me?
Jonas snuggled deeper into Will s arm. A sleepy smile crossed Will s face. Go to sleep, Z. There s only two hours left. You re either ready or you aren t. And you re ready.
I gritted my teeth.
How was I supposed to get on the top team when I had a brother more interested in his boyfriend of seven hours than in his panicking sister of seventeen years?
I dug into my backpack at my feet and pulled out my favorite book on improv comedy: The Scene Must Win by Jane Lloyd. Jane had died more than a decade ago, and I was sad I would never get a chance to actually meet her. But I willed her to give me guidance from the beyond and flipped open to a chapter at random.
As a performer, Jane offered, avoid asking questions of your fellow player. Instead, make statements and assumptions.
Make statements.
Right. I could do that.
I leaned in closer to Will. With two hours, I said, my voice low, you could go to an elementary school carnival and win all the goldfish.
Eyes still closed, he shook his head. Zelda. Please .
With two hours, I said, ignoring him, you could make a show-stopping Victoria Sponge on The Great British Baking Show .
He fought to press down a smile.
I leaned in even closer. With two hours, I stage-whispered, you could take Jonas on a first date that isn t getting nachos at a gas station while your parents and sister are spying from the king-size candy bar aisle ten feet away.
Now his eyes flew open. You were where ?
With two hours, I said, raising one eyebrow, you could create a Spotify playlist for your brand-new boyfriend that isn t titled Doorway to my Soul. Puke, by the way.
Will s arm tensed around Jonas. Oh, I m killing you later, he promised, glaring at me.
I shrugged. When you loan your sister your phone, that s an open invitation for snooping. You must know that.
That s Zelda s way of saying that we re all just so happy for you, Mom whispered, winking at me in the rearview mirror from the driver s seat.
Will blushed furiously.
With two hours, I said, cracking my knuckles, you could do any of these things, or more! But do you know what would be really great?
Will sighed. I think you re about to tell me.
I threw an arm around his shoulder. To-spend-those-two-hours-practicing-one-liners-with-your-sister-who-desperately-needs-to-in-order-to-get-on-the-top-team-at-improv-camp! I punched him in the thigh. Let s play World s Worst.
Ta da! Statement!
World s Worst? Jonas s eyes flew open.
Asleep, my ass.
I ll play World s Worst with you, Zelda, he offered.
Will unwrapped his arm from around Jonas with a flash of regret in his eyes. He sighed. Z, this is our first time at this camp. Don t count on making any of the top teams, much less the top team. Just relax. Have fun. Don t care so much.
I twitched. Don t care so much? Jane Lloyd started this camp! I thumped The Scene Must Win against his shoulder. Every year representatives from Second City and iO and UCB come to the final show. Which only the best performers get to be in. If I m going to be on Saturday Night Live by the time I m twenty-five, this is my best chance to get a foot in the door. Did you not read anything they sent us? Don t you remember me talking about this, like, nonstop?
Dad groaned, adjusted his Twins baseball cap, and wiped sleep out of his eyes. I do, Zelda-belle.
Thank you, Dad. I reached up to the passenger seat and squeezed his arm. I m glad someone believes in my dream.
Will scoffed. Come on, Zelda. Jonas and I love improv, too. I m just tired-
World s Worst sibling? Should we start there? I asked.
Hi. Will smirked. My name is Zelda.
I rolled my eyes. I d walked right into that one.
How about World s Worst ambulance driver? Jonas offered. Or garbage collector? He dug into his bag. Tell you what-I ll make a list.
I grinned at my brother. I really like your boyfriend.
Will shook his head at me. Enjoy this now. Until he learns not to let you manipulate him.
I scoffed. I m not manipulating him. I m just a really good convincer.
Will snorted.
I dropped the book on my lap and folded my arms. This is going to be amazing, I assured him (and myself). Mom and Dad will be hiking for two weeks, and you and Jonas and I are going to hone our improv skills in the mountains of Colorado. And isn t it going to be even better if we make the top team?
For the love of god, Zelda . . . Will shook his head but the corner of his mouth curved into a small smile. You re really lucky I kind of like you and stuff.
I know, I said, bumping his shoulder with mine.
My phone buzzed, and I flipped it over.
AR: Hey. Question for you.
My heart beat a little faster. Alex was the latest improv guy I had a minor crush on who I was pretty sure did not think of me in that way. Like, as a girl-person he could have feelings for.
ZBC: Fire away.
The ellipses danced on my screen as his typed his response. I waited. A question for me. It was probably just about the rehearsal schedule . . . But it could be something else.
AR: Jenn s starting rehearsal again on the 25th?
I grimaced. Or not. But then again, maybe absence would make the heart grow fonder . . .
ZBC: Yup . . . I m with Jonas and Will on our way to improv camp in CO! Back in 2 weeks!
The ellipses again. Responding right away to my text . . . good sign . . .
AR: Oh, that s right! Have fun, dude!
Dude .
What is that saying? Always a bridesmaid, never a bride? For me it was more like always a friend, never a girlfriend. And at least up until now, Will had been in a similar boat. But suddenly I was the only one in the family who wasn t in a boat built for two.
Mom always says you can let yourself drown in self-pity, or you can choose to swim away.
So fine.
I flipped my phone over, closed my eyes to regroup, and front-crawled toward the shore: Boyfriend-schmoyfriend, Zelda . You re going places: Jane Lloyd s improv camp. Second City. Then Saturday Night Live.
CHAPTER TWO
The car had barely come to a stop in the parking area when I threw open the door and jumped out, skidding a little on the gravel because I was too busy looking up at the breathtaking mountains. Breathtaking is a doubly accurate description, actually. Breathtaking , because up close, the Rocky Mountains are aggressively beautiful-rocks and trees jut into the sky at impossible angles. But breath taking as well because it s really hard to breathe.
Seriously.
We re at 9,200 feet above sea level, Dad told us, pointing at small print on the Rocky Mountain Theatre Arts