Alive

Chapter 18

Elle

(Wednesday, May 15)

"What happened, Ellenor?" Professor Patton blinks up through thick spectacles, fingers threaded together on top of his desk.

My eyes shoot down to my gloves, making sure they're knitted and not latex. They are. Thin pearly white threads, matching my hat.

"What do you mean?" I ask. My heart beats quicker as he lets out a sigh. Is it that obvious? Maybe it's the eye bags. The way I could barely hold still at my desk. Maybe he saw my notebook, far emptier than usual after a lecture. But in any case, he knows. The endless cleaning. Pacing. Worrying. The way Oliver's name got tattooed to my brain overnight. And he still hasn't answered my text.

"Your script," Professor Patton says, like it's weird I had to ask. He holds up a stack of papers, leafing through.

Oh. My script. Makes sense, right? I am in class. The excuses slip away, and my chest is tight again, but only because of the look on his face. One that's never been directed at me before.

"I attached a note," I say, frowning at first, then forcing a smile. Hoping I'm reading him wrong. "I've made a lot of changes the past week."

"Changes." The word slips out through a sharp exhale. He shakes his head. Then he takes a deep breath. "I don't know how to put this. Anyone else, and I'd soften the blow. But you're my top student, Ellenor. You're going places."

"What's..." I hesitate. I hate asking the question. I don't know if I can handle the answer right now. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's..." He pauses, leafing through a couple pages. Then he looks up at me again. "Muddled. Like you threw out the structure. This whole scene is static. Doesn't move the plot forward, and Emeris..." He trails off. I don't say anything. I can't really. He shakes his head again. "He was so strong before. But this... And what happened to the villain? Remus?"

"I thought..." Crap. My breath is catching in my throat. Words aren't coming. But he's waiting, tilting his head expectantly. Crap. I close my eyes.

"You know I root for my students," he says. "And your writing is so strong. Usually. But I wish you would have consulted me before making such drastic changes."

"But," I start. Then stop. Blink back the tears. Pull myself together and explain it. "I wanted to make it more subtle. Make Emeris more complex, make him the protagonist and the villain. I added more sets and lighting changes to make it obvious. I really think—"

"Theatre is big," Professor Patton cuts me off. "Even subtlety has to be overt on stage. We've gone over this many times." He shakes his head, setting the script back down. "This just won't cut it. I'm sorry."

He's quiet, like he expects me to say something. But I don't. I can't. It's too overwhelming. Too frustrating.

"You kept a copy of the original draft?" he asks. I'm still for a moment, then I shake my head. He sighs, glancing over the title page before shrugging. "Well, the good news is this won't affect your grade. The effort is there, and today's assignment complete. I just..." He shakes his head, then looks up at me. "If you want this on stage...consider changing it back."

"Professor," I start, staring down at my hands, then at the script. I want to explain it to him. My thought process, everything that led to the changes, the final scene where everything comes to light. I want to tell him about my vision for the future of theatre. The ways I want to revolutionize stage productions, break the rules, make it free. I sniff. Then I look up at him, meet that unwavering stony gaze. "Do you have any suggestions?"