Song: Friend Like Me cover by Ne-Yo
***
"Stop touching my arm!" Brooklyn hisses as we walk towards the high school's enterance. What remains of a harsh winter's snow crunches under our feet, and I have to grip my belongings very tightly in case I slip.
I instantaneously rip my hand away from her arm. "Look, we're supposed to be posing as 'friends', okay? Now why are you here?"
Nodding her head side to side, she drawls, "Because you're holding me hostage to turn in to the government at any given time to get your family back. Which, by the way, I'm surprised you haven't done yet."
I give her a pointed look. "Unless there's a way to prove that you're guilty of murder, I'll consider you an innocent person undeserving of the CIA's wrath. Now, let's try this again: why are you here? For real this time," I say.
"I'm your friend who's in college for theater and I'm here to observe and write a report on a high school musical, and what happens behind the scenes," she recites.
"You ain't never had a friend like me," I sing, snapping my fingers at her. "Exactly. Pressure's on, and not just for me," I quip, pushing open the school doors.
I lead Brooklyn through the set of double doors at the front of the school and through a set of smaller doors leading to the dressing rooms and backstage area. I can tell she's on edge by the way she's walking; she tightly clutches her clipboard to her chest as she glances this way and that.
"Aladdin, huh? I didn't even know that musical was still a thing, now that Frozen is on it's fifth musical and movie," she says, reading one of the posters crudely taped to the wall.
"It's survived the times, I guess. One of the classics now, like Phantom of the Opera or Les Mis," I say with a shrug.
She leans towards me and says quietly, "Well, I'll take anything over Frozen." I chuckle at her snarky comment as we reach the boy's dressing room. I pull the door open, and she tries to follow me inside. I stop her at the entrance.
"Woah, this is the boy's dressing room," I say, pointing to the sign.
She folds her arms across her chest, her clipboard peeking out beneath her left arm. "If I'm not mistaken, you galavanted into the women's restroom just yesterday. Besides, there's no one in here right now."
She has a point, but I'm not much of a rule breaker. "Too bad. You have to stay behind the door," I say. "You're more than welcome to go in the girl's dressing room, however. And I do not galavant."
"Great," she snorts. "Just what I wanted." She takes a moment to peer into my dressing room and at the costumes hanging on the rack. Pointing at them, she asks, "Which one is yours?"
I pull out four separate costumes and show her. "These four. I'm Aladdin, so lucky me, I get the most costume changes."
Brooklyn raises her eyebrows, impressed. "The star? Not bad, you even look the part, what with your black hair and all. That must be exciting," she says.
"A little, I guess," I say airily, hoping not to sound too boastful. "But, uh, yeah. You can just go wherever. If anyone gives you a hard time just send them to me," I add.
***
One hour later
My cast mates all babble about the day's events as I change into my costume for the opening act. We just got back from doing our warm-ups, and I'm finally starting to feel the nervous butterflies. At least for the next few hours, I'll be living a totally normal life. I plan to enjoy every moment of it.
