Until this moment, however, I respected the fact that she could indeed act. During any of our brief interactions, she was one of my more preferred partners, actually. Heck, I cared enough to exchange numbers with her when she asked last year.
But, now as I’m sitting in Acting Styles during a study period with her, overhearing her chatter spitefully with her small group, I decide I hate her.
“Can you believe it?” her tone trills above the murmur of everyone else in the large room, and I’m not even paying attention to whatever my small group is talking about—maybe method acting?
I keep my gaze pinned on the back of Agatha’s head, hating every exaggerated movement. Obnoxious. She is obnoxious. Not every role has to betheater, some are more tame and palatable. It’s all too clear that she, perhaps alone, comprises the kind of people that earn “theater kids” the honor of being the butt of every public school joke.
“This absolutenobodywho just appears out ofnowhere, despite having been in our class for a year and having done nothing, sweeps in like a—a trembling littlemouseand steals the lead for this year’s play! Mr. D’plume didn’t even continue auditions.I didn’t even get a chance!”
A round of empathy, mutual frustration, and understandingwelcome the brat, and I twitch. This isn’t even an actual gig. It’s just a college play. Our job here is to learn and look forward.
If you can’t take a loss gracefully, you’ll be known for your bad attitude. Contrary to stereotypes and popular belief, no industry wants to work with a slew of prissy or difficult people.
Twisting my attention off the back of her head, I fold my arms and slouch in my chair. If this brat is looking to champion stereotypes, she is doing one heck of a good job.
“What makes it that much worse is the fact IknowCalypso. She can’t act to save her life. I have no idea what drugs she or Mr. D’plume were on, but the girl is awkward and pathetic.”
My brows furrow. AgathaknowsCalypso?
Thankfully, one of her posse voices my question for me.
Agatha is all too happy to oblige the answer. “Oh, sure. We go way back. You could have called us friends once. We went to the same high school and took all the same extracurriculars. Theater. Music. Chorus. Writing. Now that I think about it, she was probably copying me or something. It’s fine though. Imitation is flattery, after all. She failed to be anything special and was always stuck in the background. So Iknow—” The way she saysknowchafes at my nerves, and I have the acute, distinct feeling this girl doesn’tknowmuch of anything. “—she’s not good enough to play the lead.” The brat unleashes an annoyed sound. “I’m so pissed! I went right home and read the whole play since I was skeptical. It’s not a classic or anything. Something new that Mr. D’plume wrote, actually. But I loved it! Harriet is amazing, and her songs—” Another exasperated, annoying, noise escapes. “—they’re so good. I was enchanted the whole way through at how everything tied together. It’s a beautiful romance with so much passion past the main characters developing feelings for each other. I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to play a part more.”
“Lex?” Jason nudges me, and I look at him, my perturbedexpression unchanged. He sucks his teeth. “Oh. Are you busy?”
“Sorry,” I note, briefly glancing over the rest of my group. “What did I miss?”
“We’re supposed to be discussing the motivations of the lead in this script. You’ve not said a word. Which, you know, isn’t like you?”
I glance down past my folded arms at the script on my lap. A real treat. It focuses around an anti-hero’s decline into madness and true villainy after the loss of everything he ever loved. All the same, to the end, he believes he’s doing every right thing. It’s a complex dynamic and rather stellar for study. The layers continue endlessly. “The emotions of an individual can blind them to the truth. Sometimes, a person will consider a ‘greater good’ as justification for their actions, but in the end, the ‘greater good’ is merely a speculation decided upon by an entity that cannot rightfully decree the whole good for all. The good of a person eating a burger is not the good of the cow. Therefore, in the veins of such ideology, one either knowingly or unknowingly determines the weight of living beings, arbitrating some lesser than others, and places themselves in a position above it all. Hilgart in this piece unknowingly decides himself the better in his world and takes actions for a greater good he has determined, each decision growing harder and darker until madness encroaches. The madness sweeps in because, somewhere, he knows the truth, but his options are blinded by pain. In the end, we have to face the harsh reality that he’s only considered a villain because his views didn’t align quite so strongly with majority opinion. His motivations are goodness, just not in everyone’s eyes.”
Jason chuckles. “There he is. Excuse me while I spend the rest of class processing that.”
The usual stares accompany my response, and then everyone is glancing at everyone else, avoiding me, talking in their ownprivate, silent ways to confirm something they’ve decided about me. Only Jason had the nerve to grant me a response, and that’s why he’s my friend. Whether he alwaysgetsit or not, he doesn’t shy away from anything. He’s a heck of a good actor, too. He merely has no interest in theatrical performance.
I sigh, at least grateful that the hum of words now coming from Agatha’s corner of the room are on the topic of the script rather than on anything else.
My mind drifts. What would Calypso say if she were in this class? Would she face me directly like Jason, or would she—already having deduced as much as I have—add to the narrative?
My brows furrow.
What does it matter? I know better than to spend time dwelling on meaningless conjecture.
What is firm and solid in my mind is that, no matter what happens tonight at our class, I’ll protect her.
After all, protecting Harriet is ratherKennethof me. And an actor’s job is to learn their characters, inside and out. In fact, the only thing I can do that would be more Kenneth is, perhaps, fall in love.
But I’m not at all concerned about something likethat.
Calypso
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I twist one braid between my fingers and sit in my usual place in the back of the class, staring at the little brown bag on my desk. It’s a muffin. Lex has bought it for me.
When he came into class, he walked right past his seat at the front and snuggled himself in where Phyllis normally sits. In a single smooth motion, he dropped the paper bag on my desk, said, “I hope you like blueberry,” then leaned back in his chair to wait for everyone else to make it in.
Since I don’t really have any friends to stop and chat with, I generally make it to my classes first. Lex doesn’t. The fact that he has today is unsettling.
