With the beginning of another school year, the competition inside the walls of NYSPA is stronger than ever as a small group of students decides to revive the disbanded show choir club.
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SEASON TWO, EPISODE TWELVE
WICKED
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NICK
"I'M GONNA BE FULLY HONEST WITH YOU HERE," Janet said, crossed legs outstretched in front of her, feet set over a table. "I think you need to focus on midterms before you start worrying about other stuff. If you fail your midterms and get kicked out of college, you won't be able to compete. No one will hire you because you'll be branded as 'difficult to work with'." She paused, pensive. "Then again, you are an attractive white dude. Disregard that last part. You'll probably land some roles, understudies at most."
Nick sighed, sipping his iced coffee.
Was it really the best of ideas to be doing so, a week before one of the most important auditions of his life, a time when he should be resting his voice and treating his body like a goddamn temple? Probably not, but temples sometimes closed for renovations, right? What would happen if one of the pillars started crumbling? Would they stay open regardless, trapping every visitor inside?
Nick was going to great lengths to try to justify his iced coffee addiction. It was just a fun quirk at first, with people chuckling in disbelief whenever they saw him drink a venti-sized beverage at eight-thirty in the morning during the winter, but then he started drinking them right before important competitions.
He had tried to remind people they still had Janet, who was more than capable of carrying the group to a victory with her eyes closed, but they acted like he had murdered someone. Janet was surprisingly chill about it, as long as he didn't neglect his responsibilities, and that was why he didn't have to hide his drinks from her.
It could be a lot worse, though. After all, he could have an alcohol problem, but everyone was disproportionately outraged over a caffeinated drink with some ice cubes poured into it. Priorities, people.
Ironically enough, he still found himself comically missing the point.
He had been neglecting his midterms. With Regionals and the Wicked auditions, it was easy to forget he still had a college degree to finish (people scoffed as soon as they found out he was a Drama student, but then remembered it had landed him a breakout leading role in Broadway), but the pile of coursework sitting on his desk grew by the hour. People assumed Drama was an easy major—how hard could acting be?—but his senior project was, without a doubt, kicking his ass.
