by JB Caine
It took her a second to spot me, but when she did, all three of them stopped at once, looking at me quizzically. I sped up my pace to almost a jog and caught up. “Hey,” I caught my breath when I realized Alex was looking at me REALLY intently, “hey,” I said to him separately. Awkward.
His voice was distinctly Keanu-like. “Hey.”
“What’s up, Lia?” Gemma and Trina greeted me in unison. Then they look at each other and smirked.
“Yeah, hi. I actually wanted to talk to you, Gemma. About my play. I tried to catch you before drama was over, but you were gone too fast.”
“Okay,” she replied. The three of them were staring at me. More awkward.
“I mean, uh, I don’t want to bore your friends...I just had a couple of technical questions for you…” They continued to stare, none of them speaking or making a move. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, I guess, not. Guys, why don’t you go ahead. I’ll meet you at Smoothie Monger in ten minutes, okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Alex shrugged. “See you, Lia.” My heart was pounding so hard, I thought I might crack a rib.
“You, too!” Too happy. Ugh. Awkwardest. Alex half-nodded and he and Trina turned and kept walking toward his blue Mustang.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Gemma asked, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on mine. She spun a small gold band around and around on her pointer finger.
“I...well...I know this is a strange question, Gemma, but like, why did you sign up to be in my play? I know that sounds bad...I don’t mean it that way. I just mean that you’re good at all kinds of acting, and you probably could get superiors in any event you picked. What made you pick my play?”
“You mean why did I sign up to work with the girl who got picked over me for Playwriting?”
“Well, I guess, yeah. That’s a blunt way to put it. But yeah.”
“Because I’ve already done all of those other events, I told you.” Her voice had a tiny edge to it. “I like ensemble acting.”
“Oh, okay. That’s it?”
“What do you think, I’ve signed on so I can sabotage you because you beat me?” Her eyes were sparkling, but I wasn’t sure if it was with humor or malice.
“No, I didn’t think that…” Even I didn’t believe my lame protestations.
“Sure you did. And I don’t blame you. Some people might be petty enough to do something like that. But not me. I just felt like doing an ensemble. I don’t feel like carrying a lead right now. I’ve got too much going on.”
“Okay, well, you really are good. I’m glad to have you in the play. Honestly, it just surprised me.”
“Thanks for just asking instead of assuming. Listen, I have to go. Alex and Trina will be waiting for me. Was there anything else?" I shook my head. "Don’t worry, Lia. I’ll give you my best.” She winked and smiled broadly but never uncrossed her arms, leaving me with a confusing mix of body language and a head full of doubts.
Chapter 6
After-school rehearsals were not a new experience for those of us in 7th period drama, but this was the first time I’d ever had to actually run the rehearsal myself. During class time, Mr. Adams was generally out and about, but his time was spread across all of us, and since at least a third of the class had chosen to do solo events for the festival, that meant that everyone got maybe 3 or 4 minutes of his time on average. He was also resolute that I should have the full directorial experience, so when the bell sounded at the end of the day, he went into his office backstage to handle festival preparations, and I was on my own with my cast.
I had taken to carrying the tarot card around with me, in my backpack inside my copy of The Crucible. Each day before we started rehearsing, I’d reach into my backpack and run my fingers around the smooth edges of the card. It became sort of a focusing and calming ritual for me.
It’s not that things weren’t running smoothly; they pretty much were. But it made me feel uncomfortable to criticize and direct people my own age.
“Grant, you’re too far to the left. Come a bit farther in.”
“Docia, it’s pronounced be-troh-thd. Long O.”
“Guys, you have to get this timing down. You can’t start the answer before I’ve finished asking my question. You can’t answer a phone before it rings!”
“Be careful not to turn your back to the audience. They won’t be able to hear your lines.”
It was exhausting.
And then there was the additional distraction of the fact that on Wednesdays, Alex (oh, and Trina, too) stayed after school and waited for Gemma to finish rehearsal so they could go for their weekly smoothie. First of all, I couldn’t believe that was even a thing. A weekly smoothie? And beyond that, I was already under pressure and brimming with anxiety, and now here was the secret love of my life, sitting in the house and seeing me get more and more frazzled. The Universe was tormenting me. The truth was, I also couldn’t bear to throw them out and claim “closed rehearsal”. How was I supposed to say something like that to Alex?
On the last Wednesday before the festival, with either my eternal glory or ultimate humiliation just three days away, Gemma approached me at the end of rehearsal. I was packing up my clipboard and notes.
“Hey, Lia...what do you think about me wearing this sort of pirate lady costume my mom has from a few Halloweens ago?” She showed me a photo of a costume with a cream-colored chemise, a blue skirt, and a black bustier. “I know it’s not exactly period, but if I don’t wear the bustier, it’s sort of Puritan-y. What do you think?”
I looked at the picture and zoomed in on the neckline. “Yeah, I think it will be fine. Thanks for finding it.”
“I thought you’d feel that way,” she nodded. “Hey, you want to come get a smoothie with us?”
I froze in place for a millisecond, not sure I’d heard correctly. “Really? I mean, yeah, okay. Thanks. Are you sure it’s okay with Alex and Trina?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure it is. I’m going to head out. We’ll meet you there.”
“Great,” I replied a little too quickly. I felt my heart rate rapidly rising. “Is it okay if I invite somebody?”
“Who, Treigh? Sure, that’s fine.” She turned and headed toward the back of the house. “See you there!”
When the door closed behind her, I fumbled in my backpack for my phone. A smoothie with Alex? I mean, it’s not like HE asked me, but he’d be there... I hit Treigh’s icon, and the phone rang twice before he picked up.
“Well, well, a voice instead of a text? What HAS happened?” Treigh laughed.
“Treigh, what are you doing right now?” I sounded a little panicked.
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing. Well, maybe nothing. I don’t know. Gemma just invited me to join the trio at Smoothie Monger. You have to come. I can’t handle the awkward. And besides, if she’s up to something, I might need backup.”
Treigh sniffed in a combination of amusement and annoyance. “Has she done anything these past couple of weeks to try and screw up your show?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Has she said anything nasty, petty, or sarcastic?”
“No, not really, but…”
“Now, I’d like to point out that I’ve been waiting every single night for updates on any tea that might come out of these rehearsals, and so far, there’s been nada. Maybe she just likes you.”
“Are you coming to Smoothie Monger or not?”
“Are you paying?”
“Naturally.”
“Then I’ll be there. I’ll see you in 15 minutes.”
“You’re a hungry angel,” I laughed.
“You know that’s right.”
Smoothie Monger was just like other smoothie shops in that there was no real intent that customers would sit down and consume their frozen concoctions in the store. As a result, there were only two tables, each with three chairs. Because there were five of us, there was no room for any other patrons who might wish
to do the same. That didn’t seem to bother anyone but me.
As I expected, Gemma, Trina, and Alex were already seated and sipping when Treigh and I arrived. It would have made an interesting snapshot, actually: two Hollister queens, a prince of Urban Outfitters, the lord of Lord and Taylor, and the princess of Hot Topic. Having smoothies together. We were like a mall advertisement.
Treigh was earning his smoothie by being the great ice-breaker. “So, how are rehearsals going from the acting side?” His smile was fixed on Gemma.
“It’s coming together,” Gemma replied. “I’m actually impressed that everyone seems to be off-book in only two weeks. It helps that it’s a short play.”
Treigh nodded and looked expectantly at me. I stared back. He shot a quick look in Alex’s direction, then back at me. Clearly, he expected me to say something.
“Um, Alex, how does it look from the audience’s point of view?”
“I don’t know. Pretty good. I was on my phone most of the time. Sorry.”
Honestly, I don’t think it would have hurt less if he had stabbed me with his straw. It must have shown in my face, because he quickly followed up with, “I’ll be in the audience on Saturday night, though.”
“Oh, good,” I said, trying not to sound too terribly dejected. “I hope you like it.”
“I think it looks pretty good,” Trina offered. I shot her a grateful smile and went back to focusing on my smoothie.
“Alex, you haven’t even watched it once? Seriously?” Gemma gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “What kind of friend are you, anyway?”
“One with a new iPhone,” he replied with a smirk.
“You are a rotten friend,” she pouted. “Anyway, Lia, don’t take it personally. If we put it on Instagram, he might actually pay attention to it.”
“Hey, now, don’t judge.” Treigh chuckled.
The other four of us laughed along with him. I smiled and sucked down the last of my frozen goodness. Half an hour later, we got up from the tables and made our way toward the parking lot. Gemma grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“Hey, listen,” she began, and for maybe the first time, I could clearly tell what emotion was on her face. She felt awkward, unsure. I knew that look all too well, only it was usually on my own face. “I know that we’ve had sort of a tense association. It always seems like we’re at odds with each other. But I think you’re really cool. That’s really why I volunteered to be in your play. You’re a really interesting person.” She looked at her feet. “I’d rather be friends than rivals, you know?” She started spinning that ring again, and I wondered if maybe it was a nervous tic.
I could feel my mouth hanging open. I’m pretty sure you could have knocked me over with a feather at that moment. “I’d rather be friends, too,” was about all I could manage to reply.
She raised her eyes and smiled. “Cool.”
“Cool,” I smiled back.
When I reported the conversation to Treigh later, he sniffled and fake-sobbed, “They grow up so fast.”
“You think she means it?” I asked him.
“You need to relax and have some faith. You Leos are so paranoid about people.”
“Coming from the Libra who trusts everybody?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Shut up. I hate you.” He hugged me and got in his car. “Text me later.”
“I will. Hey, thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for paying.”
“Happy to bribe you.” We grinned at each other and he slammed the door. We made the ASL I love you sign at each other as he backed out, and then he drove off. I was a little nervous about trusting what was happening here, but it was starting to look like I had actually made three new friends. Oh, and one of them was Alex Conroy.
Chapter 7
Before I knew it, the final day of the drama festival had arrived. The original plays were always the last event on the program. There were four original plays performing this year, each from a different school. Most schools didn’t submit originals, because frankly, they were more work than most teenagers were willing to commit to. I felt very lucky that my cast had, for the most part, been very dedicated to putting forth their best effort. Grant still sometimes flubbed a line, and in the back of my mind, I still had the tiniest doubts about Gemma’s intentions. But here we were, and it was showtime.
I felt the familiar rush of butterflies as I looked out at the house from backstage right. No matter how many times I’d stood at this spot, that onset of nerves never failed to find me. This anxiety, more than anything else, is what had always kept me from auditioning for larger roles. The thought of carrying a performance by myself, even for a little while, was petrifying. Tonight, though...tonight the stakes were even higher. Not only would the audience be judging my performance, so would a set of ACTUAL JUDGES, and they’d also be judging my WORK...my HEART. Mr. Adams had told me that a self-written play was tantamount to exposing a corner of one’s soul, and now I could appreciate what he’d been saying. I shifted nervously, bouncing from foot-to-foot, watching the performance before mine, trying to see the judges’ faces beyond the stage lights, a chorus of what-ifs singing arias in my mind.
What if they don’t get the point?
What if the dialogue isn’t authentic enough?
What if I can’t play the part I wrote for myself?
WHAT IF THEY DON’T LIKE IT?
And, perhaps the greatest fear of all, What if I’m not really a good writer?
I began to pace, reciting the lines to the opening scene in my mind. It was so important to set the tone with this ritual. The essence of Esther’s character had to be revealed here, her struggle against the establishment to be true to her nature. Her struggle for peaceful co-existence in an intolerant world. I looked at the pendant I held in my hand, a good-luck gift from Aunt Kitty and my mom...a silver disk, representing the full moon, framed on either side by an outward-facing crescent....the symbol of the Goddess. It was a beautiful and meaningful gift, as a prop, it felt...unfinished. Suddenly, without thinking, I ran out the stage right doors as the stage manager, Noelle, hissed at me in a whisper, “WHERE ARE YOU FREAKING GOING?”
I didn’t have long, but I knew I was missing something. I darted into the girls’ dressing room and dove for my backpack. As my hand closed on the card, I felt calmer. Now it was right. Now it was compete. Now I could do the scene. I slipped back into the backstage area while Noelle muttered something under her breath that I was probably glad I couldn’t hear.
I began to practice the steps to the circle dance I had choreographed as the final scene of the previous play came to a close. 5-6-7-8, step across, arm sweep, bend…
The house and stage lights came up as the kids from Grandview High took their bows to mediocre applause. They grabbed the two chairs they had used for their scene, and Noelle ran out, placing a small table and handful of props for my opening, and removing a wooden lamp post.
Dip, arms in an arc, sweep, jump, spin...
“OW!” I hissed as pain stabbed through the ball of my bare foot and up my leg. I stopped dancing and looked down at my foot, catching a glimpse of the injury just as the lights were falling. It was bleeding. Rats.
“And now, let’s give a round of applause to Lia Alvarez and her play, ‘Salem Moon’!” There was a smattering of applause, a snitch of derisive laughter from some small corner of the house, and then a hush fell over the audience.
I took one more look at my bleeding foot. “Dammit,” I swore under my breath. There was nothing to be done for it now. The show must go on, as they say. With a deep breath, I stepped into the chasseé turns that would carry me to my mark at center stage.
I hit my mark flawlessly, and the soft track of Celtic music I had selected filled the darkness. I began my dance, following a circular track around the table and holding the pendant aloft. As I spun past the front of the little table, I dropped The Moon card into the brass bowl in the center.
“Selene, by the one Power
<
br /> Acting for me and through me
I hereby draw down the moon
And the power that moves the moon
Into myself
According to Free Will and
For the good of all
Selene, enter me now!
I hereby draw down the Moon for
The consecration of this talisman.
Thank you, Selene, light in the darkness.
The Power that moves the Moon
Moves through me always
Through all time and space
And so mote it be!”
I had rehearsed this scene so many times, and yet this time, something was different. I had the very distinct sense of being watched. I know, that’s not surprising, since it was the first time I’d performed for judges and a real audience. But still, there seemed to be more to it than that. As if someone was watching with interest from the wings.
I didn’t have time to focus on the feeling. I had a performance to do.
As the final scene approached, I couldn’t help feeling like I’d been nearly sleepwalking through the play--not the way you’d normally think of sleepwalking; more like this was a dream in which I was Esther. I felt her struggle to stay hidden, her fear of discovery. I felt her love for Robert Black, the only man who could even make her consider adopting the Puritan life. I felt her internal struggle as she tried to conform for his sake, and her ultimate heartbreak and eventual betrayal when she couldn’t. I felt her struggle as never had before, even while I was writing the scenes.
It turns out I needn't have worried about Gemma. She hit every mark, nailed every line. Even though I was the lead, she was the true star of the show. In the final scene where Grant tearfully left my side to report my witchy activities to Gemma, the matriarch of the town elders, she managed to take her character from being a villain to being a woman with complex feelings, but clear loyalties, doing what she thought God would command of her, even if the demands of her faith caused her pain. She was the perfect foil to Esther. Even I found her character sympathetic.
