I could scream.
If classes and the fact theaudition is closing inweren’t distracting me, I may have half a mind to run to the nearest cliff and scream until my lungs burn out.
Whatever happens in a few short hours, maybe he can be brave enough for the both of us. At least, that’s what I hope.
~*~
The auditorium.
Massive, as only fitting for a school focused around the arts, the auditorium is painted in shadows, deep reds, and dark grays. An expansive stage rests ahead of the tiers and tiers of seats that even stretch up into a balcony. Perpetually cool, just stepping into this place with the rest of the class is enough to send a chill down my spine.
I stare ahead at the stage, and it’s too large.
My head swirls.
A hand touches mine, fingertips skimming over my knuckles, and I look up to find Lex has worked his way through the small crowd to my side. The excitement in his eyes is palpable, like he lives for these moments, the stage, putting on a character and rushing into the spotlight.
We are too different right now, and I miss the quiet of this morning a little too much. He made my songright. His silence alone in the midst of the notes is what the piece was missing from the moment I composed it on the floor between the wall and my bed. The feeling of affinity and belonging made it hard to pull away, so I forced myself to.
How annoying that he can march effortlessly into my private things while I’m still standing on the edge of whatever it is that makes him spark with excitement right now. It isn’t the kind of excitement that incites a burning rage of passion. No. It’s the kind that welcomes a challenge and dares anything to stand against him. It’s spiteful and almost angry, but it’s vibrant nonetheless.
Mr. D’plume seats himself in the front row of the auditorium, right at the center of the stage, with a notepad and a yawn. Lazily, he motions with his pen. “Let’s start with our side characters. Those of you not auditioning can head up to sounds and lights. You should know what you’re doing by now. Or at least one of you should. It won’t matter much until we get to the music.”
Something about Mr. D’plume’s consistency with his devil-may-care attitude is comforting. The “nothing matters” that rolls off him in droves makes it almost seem like whether we fail or succeed is of no consequence at all.
And yet, my heart is pounding. Something dreadful flutters in my stomach, and it feels like I have a fever.
Mr. D’Plume calls each student up by name while I go hotter and dizzier with every second that passes.
A hand touches my neck, making me choke on my thoughts in the middle of Cynthia Strom’s rendition of “Greta’s Lament.” I whip my attention off Harriet’s love rival and find Lex, his fingers beneath my braids, slipping from my neck to return to his pocket.
“You seemed a bit warm,” he whispers.
No crap. I’m terrified.
I narrow my eyes at him, hoping to convey every less-than-kind word jumbling around in my head.
“The lights are too bright to even see past the first few rows of seats anyway,” he offers, as though the entire class isn’t standing in the spot between the first row and where the stage starts.
Taking a deep breath, I remove my glasses, fish my case out of my bag, and lock them away in the side pocket.
A soft chuckle flows below the next “Greta’s Lament,” and I shoot Lex a pinched glare. I can’t even lend awe to the sensation of hearing people perform my own songs because they want to play the characters I’ve created. The hot and cold washes of fear simmering beneath my skin are all I feel.
Lex flicks one of my braids. “What about these? I don’t recall Harriet having twin braids.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not putting my hair up for an audition.” Harriet keeps her hair tied up in a semi-extravagant bun. And, to be fair, braids are involved in the creation of it. I just don’t have the energy or the tools to mimic that, and it’s not like I provided the character descriptions in such detail anyway.
“What about letting it down?” Lex is relentless, even if his attention remains split between teasing me and watching our classmates audition.
I scoff. “Yeah, no.”
More side performances shuffle through, then Harriets and Kenneths are stepping into the light.
The ease that I found somewhere between talking to Lex andconvincing myself I still had all the time in the world before it was my turn up there vanishes with a suddenness that makes me almost faint. My breaths shorten, and I feel Mr. D’plume call my name more than I hear it. The words strike me like a physical blow.
“Calypso Kole…and Marcus Reeves.”
Marcus Reevesis not Lex.
