Julian

II. February, Ch. 28

     Don't be a chicken. Just walk up to one of them and ask.

     Shelley never intended to audition. Her plan was to kill time in the library until her dad picked her up late after school.

     She'd inform her dad that she tried her best, but other students were better.

     The problem was coming up with answers to her father's inevitable questions.

     What's the play called? What part did you try out for? Where will they host the play if they don't have a theater?

     Answers were on the first floor, Room 103, where dozens of boys and girls waited their turn to impress the directors.

     After a couple of failed attempts, she finally mustered the courage to head to the auditions.

     Get your answers, then head to the library.

     The tension in the hallway outside the classroom was molasses-thick. Everywhere she turned, there was a student chewing the scenery with ancient words, complaining of jitters, or bragging about their resume.

     She didn't know who to turn to for help.

     "Excuse me?" said a boy behind her.

     Shelley turned. Before her was a tall senior with a clipboard. At last, a helping hand.

     "Did you sign in?" he asked

     She didn't know his name, but she recognized those kind eyes and that tall frame anywhere.

     It was him, the talk-out-of-turner, the basketball-fowler. The smart-mouth who was actually smart.

     "Oh, I don't need to audition," she said.

     He looked at her up and down. "I don't care how many commercials you've done. No role is guaranteed. To anyone. Sign in."

     He pressed the edge of the clipboard against her abdomen.

     Shelley flinched and took it. She wasn't mad at him, although she wasn't short on reasons. It was a misunderstanding of the first degree, and it must have been the authority with which he spoke or the flattering assumption he made about her ability to act, but she printed her name and grade level on the clipboard sheet, ignoring the section marked Auditioning For. She handed the board back.

     He snatched and read it. "What role are you going for?"

     She tucked a loose hair behind her ear. "It doesn't matter."

     He pulled his face back in confusion. "Whatever you say, Hepburn."

     Hepburn? Flattered as she was, she was sure the words weren't meant to be kind. "Audrey or Katharine?"

     He kept his eyes on the paper. "Save the diva antics for callbacks. Have a seat and I'll bring you in when they're ready."

     "Wait," she said. "I have a question."

     He only looked up with his eyes.

     "Um, what's the name of the play?"

     He lifted his head all the way. His tone was bitter. "Too many auditions to keep track of, huh?"

     Shelley was taken aback. What's his problem?

     He turned, entered the classroom, and closed the door behind him.