“Will hit all the high notes for theater and mystery fans alike.” —Kirkus Reviews
Better Nate than Ever meets Love Sugar Magic in this spooky middle grade novel from Hamilton and Broadway star Mandy Gonzalez about a group of young thespians who must face the ghost haunting their theater.
Twelve-year-old Monica Garcia has arrived in NYC with her grandmother and a few suitcases to live her dream on Broadway. She’s been chosen as understudy to the star of Our Time, the famed Ethel Merman Theater’s last chance to produce a hit before it shutters its doors for good. Along with her fellow castmates—a.k.a. “the squad”—Monica has a big and very personal reason to want this show to succeed.
But rumors of a long-running curse plague the theater. And when strange and terrible things start to threaten their hopes for a successful opening night, Monica and the rest of the squad must figure out how to reverse the curse before their big Broadway debuts.
With the help of her new friends, her family, and a little magic, can Monica help save the show—and save their dreams? From Broadway and television star Mandy Gonzalez comes a story about what it means to dream, be yourself, and be fearless.
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Mandy Gonzalez has thrilled audiences on Broadway, lit up the screen on television, been published in Harvard Business Review, and started a social movement. She recently starred as Angelica Schuyler in Hamilton on Broadway and appeared in Madam Secretary as recurring character Lucy Knox and is known for originating the role of Nina Rosario in the Tony Award–winning show, In the Heights. Mandy’s debut album, Fearless, reached #13 on the iTunes pop charts. Mandy is also an author—having published a widely cited article in the Harvard Business Review on how to overcome one’s fear of public speaking. Most dear to her heart, Mandy is the proud founder of #FearlessSquad—a social media movement for inclusiveness and belonging. The movement connects millions of people around the world, encourages them to be their best selves, and helps them empower each other.
Chapter One One NEW YORK, NEW YORK
Twenty-four days until opening night
Monica’s hand pressed against the window. She could feel it, even before they arrived. Thump, thump, thump. She grabbed a strand of her curly brown hair and twisted. “Next stop, Times Square, Forty-Second Street,” the automated voice said. Lights flickered through the tunnel as they got closer. Monica twisted faster.
“Tsk-tsk!” her abuelita said, waving her finger from across the aisle at Monica’s hair, then went back to studying the subway map on the wall in front of her.
“I can feel it, Abuelita, like your friend said,” Monica whispered. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes smiled when she spoke.
The city’s heartbeat.
Monica’s abuelita’s friend had told them that if they wanted to get from JFK Airport to Manhattan, they could take a taxi or a bus or a shuttle. “But if you want to feel the heartbeat of the city under its skin, you take the subway.”
“I can feel it too,” her abuelita giggled, clutching her purse tighter. She looked out the window and, seeing only blackness, positioned her big circle glasses above the rim of her nose—the same pair of glasses she’d owned since the 1970s. How she was ever able to manage keeping those thick glasses in place on her slender face all these years, no one knew.
The subway braked hard and slowed. Monica’s abuelita startled, and her back went straight. “This is Times Square, Forty-Second Street,” the automated voice said now. Monica lifted herself out of her seat to get a better look. The panels of walls and lights and spaces in between made patterns as they glided by. At that moment, Monica was thinking how incredible it was that two people could find their way from all the way across the country to this very spot at this very moment and enter into an entirely new world, just like that! Travel had always seemed to her like something other people did.
Standing riders in the train wiggled to make room for Monica as she stood up, and then an entire subway car crammed with people all instinctively leaned in the same direction to balance themselves as the subway hit its brakes entering the station. Monica wobbled and grabbed the one small piece of hand space left on the center pole, and she leaned too. This made her want to burst into tears of joy. She was leaning into New York City, she thought, and laughed.
As the train rolled to a stop, a man with a deep voice at the rear of the subway car shouted, “Welcome to paradise,” and the doors opened. Monica’s abuelita got up and poked her head out of the subway car. Lifting her luggage, she said to her granddaughter, “Oh, and look at the view!”
“It’s amazing!” Monica replied, wide-eyed. A crowd of impatient passengers pushed their way past the two awestruck tourists, getting out of the crowded car as fast as possible.
As they hurried out of the train and onto the platform, they saw two men energetically beating on plastic buckets with drumsticks and hollering an occasional “Hoot ho!” Monica’s abuelita told her the subway station was over one hundred years old. But all Monica could think of was how new everything seemed, and all this newness gave her a melty feeling.
Another train arrived on a different track, releasing more people onto the platform. A tall woman with a red face and a fancy-looking tote bag bumped into Monica and with a stern “pardon me” rounded past her, knocking her off balance. She fumbled and got swept up into a crowd of people moving at different speeds, and she became so turned around and pushed to the side, she realized she couldn’t see her abuelita anymore.
The commuter crowd moved in a fever past her, and then the platform quieted. Thankfully, she now saw that her abuelita was right next to her.
“Elbows out!” her abuelita hollered.
They got swept up in more crowds, heading toward the exit—like fish going upstream. Monica still couldn’t believe she was on New York City soil. This was incredible for two reasons: one, she’d never even been out of the state of California before; and two, she’d never thought she’d get out of the state of California ever. The drumming stopped. She inhaled deeply and let out a quiet “Meeeee.” She held the note just long enough for it to vibrate gently. The sound echoed softly down the dark tunnel, and it came as somewhat of a relief. Her location had changed, but her singing voice was the same. She inhaled again to take in the smells of this new world. She had so hoped New York would smell like cotton candy, but it most certainly did not.
Her abuelita was now leading the way, showing her with body language how to weave through the crowds. The big white feather on her abuelita’s hat flounced as she walked. Her abuelita insisted this was the kind of hat you wore only to church and to New York City. Besides the hat, Monica’s abuelita wore purple yoga pants, black Converse sneakers, and a leopard-print backpack. Some might have described Monica’s abuelita as avant-garde.
They passed through station doors covered in advertisements and stickers and landed in an enormous sea of people and lights. They were blanketed by a million stories being told at once, and that offered Monica a certain sense of tranquility. So much cement and steel, and yet she was certain she’d just tumbled into a bed of wildflowers. Even in broad daylight, the lights of the city outshone the sun in rainbow colors. Lights so welcoming they made even the dirty sidewalks sparkle.
“Which one is the Empire State Building?” Monica’s abuelita asked. She pointed to one building, then another. “That one? No. That one? No. That one? No.” She laughed. “They all look tall!” Then she laughed again when she looked over at Monica and saw her expression.
Directly in front of Monica was a billboard advertising soup with actual steam coming out of the bowl. She’d seen it so many times in photographs, and now it was there in real life, steam billowing like the incense Father Mendez would wave above her head on Sundays. It was beautiful. And the sequin ball that dropped on New Year’s Eve was high above that. It was beautiful. Billboards for Broadway musicals and advertisements for shoes and perfume and watches all moved at different speeds. All beautiful! And all hers to behold in that moment.
Suddenly a person dressed in an Elmo costume towered over her, blocking her view. He had a stitched-on smile. Monica smiled back. Elmo waved to Monica without saying a word. She waved back without saying a word. He handed her a flyer for dishwashers being sold at deep discount prices and then moved on. She studied the flyer, a little disappointed it wasn’t something more exciting, and passed the flyer to her abuelita, who hugged it, then placed it in her purse. “We might need a dishwasher. You never know,” she laughed.
A few more steps and a man leaned in toward them asking for spare change. Monica’s abuelita dug a few quarters out of her purse and placed them in the man’s empty Styrofoam coffee cup. “Have a blessed day, young lady,” he said to her abuelita. Monica’s abuelita grabbed the top of her hat, lifted her chin in the air, and giggled like a schoolgirl. It was official: Monica Garcia was in love with New York City.
“Did you ever think...
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