Hope was so exhausted that Halloween night she took her bathe and went straight to bed.
That night was by far the best night of her entire life. It was one thing imagining stepping up, with eyes watching, and following the notes and words in a score the best way she could; another thing entirely, feeling yourself light up a stage, and in a moment at least you find a reality, in a dream, the perfect life in the limelight with all attention coming at you, the perfect companion flowing the perfect routine you’ve both perfected ad nauseum; In that single moment you are a perfect girl, with the perfect voice, singing with the perfect guy, with the perfect orchestra at the background. A new world opens up, world that bears no semblance with the one she’d known, a world of magic, where sound is light and light is sound, a world to get lost in as the muses urges you on. Then slowly as you take the bow, surreptitiously catching your breath while greeting every face with a broad smile, that world folds away like a dream, and you are back to being yourself as you step off the stage, into the dressing room and emerged at the back door in a pinafore. You become you, and even then, it all feels like a blessing. She was glad she had the courage to step forward, and somehow knew she had Anthony Lawrence to thank for some of it.
She threw her head back against the bed and sighed, staring at the blank ceiling. The clock chimed from where it hung, she rubbed her bleary eyes and rolled to her right to catch some sleep. But this is not the kind of day one can just escape. Thirty minutes ago, she was on the phone with Aunty Alice who had watched the show on TV. “Honey I’m so proud of you.” She said. “honey.” That’s an endearing term Aunty Alice uses for folks when she’s in a great mood or a really sad one (where’s she’s got the loving-tenderness thing going), the only time Hope was reminded of that instant was one rainy day, a familiar name read from a headstone, everyone was leaving, Mrs Mark was finally laid to rest. “Honey, we have to go.” Auntie Alice who had held the umbrella over her head had said.
Tears streaked down Hope’s face, not out of sadness, it was memory, it was a certain fuzzy fond feeling. She had wiped her tears, and cheerfully conversed with Auntie Alice who promised to come visit by month’s end.
Thirty minutes before that she was walking back with Ada who was still in her tutu and ballet shoes and had refused to change. She wore a long coat that now bunched the spread of her ballet skirt forward. “I cannot recognize you!” Ada said when Hope stepped out of the dressing room. “can you go back and wear that beautiful dress. We’ve only got tonight.” She suggested. The last thing Hope wanted was to return back to the hostel as a pretentious Halloween prom queen (if that’s even a thing). Just old regular Hope was enough, she was happy enough.
It was the kind of walk you’d wish was longer, hearing kind words from co-performers and even when some might act like you are invisible, you just know you had done right, and feel pride in that.
She thought of Jane, and the chapters yet unwritten and realised this is how Jane would feel, when finally, she finds her parent in chapter twenty. Hope considered ending the book on that note as against the idea of bringing in a twist. Well, that’s a thought for another day.
She found herself humming a song of her own, a song that came to her mind when she saw Lisa glanced longingly at Anthony as she stepped out of the dressing room, there was some vulnerability in that look, some longing that felt antifeminist, yet, right. Anthony had looked back as if he felt her staring, and smile a tight lipped smile that seem to dampen the tension. Lisa looked away and disappeared in a crowd of admirers. Hope thought of Obi. He’s a jerk, check; he’s unsanitary, talks with his mouth full, check; loud and careless and callous, check, but she had longed for familiar company, friends who had been in her corner right before she set foot on SMH. She had asked if Ada had seen him, Ada met her question with a cryptic look that at first glance screamed constipated, and said, “he’s probably out there breaking something,” and smiled an Ada signature lopsided smile, “I saw him walking away with Peter some moments ago.” She sighed an over extended sigh, “He’s a shy one.” Hope suddenly felt defensive and was about to clear the air when Ada said, “yeah, you can do better than him.”
YOU ARE READING
SANTA MARIA HIGH (COMPLETED)
Paranormal...are you afraid of the dark? When Hope Mark lost her foster mother to cancer and had to move to a new school, she never thought much of SANTA MARIA HIGH. Other than the fact that the fact that the school was in the most beautiful Manor, with tall...
