I stubbornly swallowed my anti-sickness pills before I tugged at the collar of my tan leather jacket in an angry manner. I didn’t want to be forced to go to work after everything that had happened yesterday. I wanted to sit and write a furious blog post about how crap dreams were, about how painful the fall was when you were dropped from that dream to land in the real world where everything was harsh, difficult and grey. My dream had probably been green, like Elphaba. Why was I thinking in colours?
It’s Friday today, I thought to myself as I took a deep breath in order to calm myself. You can stay home tomorrow, but not now. With my phone in hand and determination in my mind, I stepped from the flat and made off to the theatre by myself.
Lesson learned from yesterday, I’d now made sure that I had some spare pills in my bag, which clicked and rattled slightly with every step I took as I walked from the lift to the front doors of my building. The sun was barely awake as it cast a lazy buttercup-glow across my feet and the pavement whilst I hopped down the worn steps to ground level. The air was cool and stiff, prodding me awake with bony fingers which scratched at the fog of my breath. I liked the cold.
Today, I’d set off early in the hope of getting to work sooner and avoiding anyone who might bring up anything concerning yesterday with me. Carrie may have made some calls to Max, Dexter and Janice about what had happened, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t try and ‘have a little chat’ with me about it.
My phone showed a map to me on its chipped and scruffed up screen, with tiny beacons over my position, over the flat and over the theatre a few miles away. It had been Chris’ idea for me to download this map app thing, and I had to admire his idea. After not living in London for a few years because of uni, this app was perfect to help me get my bearings about this busy place.
Upon entering the underground train network, the app stopped working as it lost connection with the satellites it used for tracking. At least there were maps down here and I already knew which train I had to go on, so that wasn’t much of a problem. The problem was actually waiting on the practically uninhabited platform for my train to arrive.
My mind started to play tricks on me, reminding me of what had happened yesterday, playing games with my memory to make everything seem worse than it had mere seconds before. My mind seems to have this trait of working overtime, and I’m quite curious as to if other people have it… Hm, could I turn that into a blog post? Hm…
Thoughts of potential blog posts infused with my scheming ideas were ripped from my brain as the train rattled into the station, consuming my mind with its loud rumbles and groans as it eased to a stop. The doors slid open to welcome people aboard, but I was against it. The thought of stepping back onto one of these carriages made me feel nervous and almost...scared. I didn’t want to be ill, I shouldn’t be, but yesterday had been kind of traumatic for me.
I ended up having to force myself to climb aboard the train. The train doors slammed shut like the jaws of a Venus flytrap and made my spine arch away from it as I stumbled to grab the handrails. The train jolted unnervingly as it travelled, which only made me clutch to the handrails even more.
At every stop before my destination, I mentally checked myself to see if I felt queasy. Of course, I didn’t feel ill at all, but the thoughts and doubts plagued my mind for the entire journey as I counted off each stop and listened intently to the announcements as to which platform we were drawing close to. I had to get over this.
Twenty-five or so minutes after I got onto the train, I was walking towards the theatre in the steady bustle of city life. The city was waking up now, wearing the light of day like a new piece of attire which highlighted the city’s key features. The way that water pooled at the gutters. The sounds of rustling clothing combined with heavy footsteps and gentle telephone mutters. The curves and sharp corners to the towering buildings on the skyline. Once again, the city was beautiful and captivating.
“Oh, look, there she is. I thought she’d turn up sooner or later.”
“She works here, Rory, she’s bound to show up.”
“Don’t be snarky with me…”
“I’m not. It’s not my fault that you made me get up at six thirty in order for us to stand and wait for her like a pair of demented stalkers. Who knew that there was a six thirty in the morning?”
“I knew. As for being stalkers, you can speak for yourself… I bought you a coffee, didn’t I?”
“Hmpft. Starbucks spelt my name wrong. Now I can’t take a picture of the cup for a hipster post!”
“You’ve said it yourself that you’re a fandom blog, so shush.”
Long green pin curls of hair were now visible over the array of people around me. Kat stuck her pointed tongue out between her purple lips to Rory, who was looking at her best friend in distain. What were they doing here? From what I’d gathered from their conversation, they were waiting for someone.
As I barged my way through the gaps in the crowd, Rory caught my eye. Her chubby cheeks glowed as she smiled at me when I joined them in the cover of the alcove under the Wicked sign. “Morning, Jamie. Donut?” she lifted a brown paper bag up to me as she spoke, where an enticing smell of fresh donuts sourced from.
“Er, thank you,” I said as I accepted the bag, which I then just awkwardly held in front of me. I ran my fingers over my thumb ring restlessly at the pause in conversation.
“How’ve you been, Four?” Kat pressed me as I tried to move around them to the theatre, but they persisted to obstruct my path. “Where you alright yesterday?”
“Kat, don’t be so blunt. Something might have happened,” Rory scolded Kat with a tug on her arm.
Kat glanced down at her friend in confusion, but when she looked back up to me, she appeared more reserved. “Sorry. I meant to ask if you’re okay. So…are you? We only heard that you were ill; nothing specific.”
I shrugged sadly at them. “Some friends stuff came up the night before and I, er, got travel sick yesterday and couldn’t make it in… But enough about me, how did you do yesterday, Kat?” I forced a smile at them whilst keeping my jaw square. This was exactly the confrontation that I’d hoped to avoid by getting here early, and here I was anyway. It was nice to see these two, of course, but I couldn’t really deal with people right now. I had to get inside, plug my headphones into my iPod and get to work. I wanted to do that, rather than face my own thoughts.
“You don’t want to talk about it,” Rory stated with a nod. I felt confusion fill out my face as I eyed her. It hadn’t been a question from her, more of a statement of fact. Maybe she was psychic.
A half-smile contorted my mouth as half of me agreed with her.
“We just wanted to check that you were still alive and not hospitalised that’s all,” Kat explained. “Then tell you what happened yesterday so that you don’t hear it from the wrong person, offer you a donut, you know, just something.”
“I appreciate it,” I said truthfully. “What did happen? Who got through?”
“Three people got through,” Kat explained as she nursed her Starbucks cup between her hands. The name ‘Cath’ was written on the card in a loopy cursive, and she was attempting to hide that with her fingers. “Elinor, Twelve and Seven got through. Twelve and Seven are pretty close now, actually. They said that they want to get the main role of Elphaba and the understudy role. It’s sweet really.” Kat sniffed angrily as she took a long drink.
“Don’t be sour, Kat, there’s plenty of other shows,” Rory consoled Kat.
Kat snorted and rolled her eyes to me. “At other shows they didn’t actually wait for the last auditionee to arrive for twenty minutes because they wanted to see ‘the girl who could belt out song lyrics’ and ‘saved other people in improv’… What other show would show anyone that sort of consideration of talent?” Kat looked at me meaningfully with an arched eyebrow, making my insides feel heavy and cold.
“Kat! Stop it!” Rory hissed.
My heart cracked and quivered in my chest. I could have had a chance. They’d actually liked me. “Kat, I’m sorry...”
Kat glanced up, her golden eyes open to her emotions as she viewed me. “Why are you sorry? I’m sorry for you that after all of the fuss over you that I heard Tony, Dexter and Mary-Anne make over you, that you couldn’t make it because you were ill. Not a pitiful kind of ill, of course I know that, but that’s what everyone else thought…”
“And by everyone else, you mean…?” I pressed her.
“Elinor and Tony,” Rory sneered. “I was there to support Kat, and the two of them made a fair few snide comments that weren’t necessary. Tony did soften a little after he’d accepted this phone call from reception.”
Carrie. Maybe I could try and see Tony in person today and ask to try again? There was a very slim chance that he’d actually agree, but I could try at the very least.
“Thanks for telling me,” I muttered as a sense of hope started to overwhelm me.
“It’s okay,” Kat said. “Just, give us your number next time so that Rory isn’t calling me at some unreasonable hour in the hopes that we’ll see you in person before work, yeah?”
I chuckled as the three of us exchanged numbers for that very reason. After doing this, and now that I was armed with the knowledge which could both support me throughout the day and to help me overall with courage for future theatre auditions, Kat and Rory left to go shopping and leave me to work.
I even waved at Janice as I entered the theatre, so that she could note down that I’d arrived, before I disappeared round backstage to my shared workroom. The workroom looked familiar and comforting to me now, especially as it was empty. I could lose myself here in doing my arty crafts and in the sounds of my music, and that was brilliant.
I set out all of the equipment and components that I would need on my table top, before slouching in my chair to unwrap the donut that Rory had given to me from the crinkled paper bag. It was a simple jam donut, dusted with sugar and filled with a raspberry jam. Just in casting my eyes over the glittering form of this fried treat made my mouth water.
I took a bite of the donut and revelled in how the sweet taste consumed my mouth and rolled over my tongue in soft waves of sugar. I presumed that Rory had known just how helpful junk food was when you were feeling at your worst, because I did feel a little better now.
With sugar traces still at the corners of my mouth, I put my headphones on and set to work, ready to start the monotonous series of events once more. Well, as ready as I could be; as happy as I could be.
*
The work day was average. I didn’t hear anything from the Droids as I flat out refused to look at them or engage with them at all, and when I had to leave for lunch, they’d already left in that predictable time loop of theirs. So at five o’clock that night, I was happy to be left alone in the workroom once more. I’d also recently found out that it was only the three people in this workroom who were doing artistic things for the set, so there was no chance of me asking for my own room, making this room mine for the next few months. I was stuck with the Droids for some time, it seemed.
Just as I was folding a piece of sandpaper in half to put away in my desk drawer, I heard deep voices and heavy-trodden footsteps from outside my closed door.
“As you can see, sir, the facilities for our stage hands, designers, actors and actresses are more than suitable,” someone said. “I make sure that everyone who works on set with either artistic or electronic contribution is very comfortable in their working environment.”
“I can see that,” a different voice replied gruffly. “But I think that the dressing rooms need…more. Just more. You know what I mean, don’t you, Dexter?”
“I’m not quite sure I do, sir…”
“More space, more quality. Something which is truly suitable for the present and up-and-coming stars of the stage. Can we expand the dressing rooms back out this way?”
“These rooms are largely used for storage and the manufacture of pieces for the set, sir. We need them, sir.”
“Hm, I see. Then add more mirrors to the dressing rooms to make them seem bigger. That could work.”
“Good idea, Mr Blake. I’ll order some mirrors at once.”
Mr Blake and Dexter? I pondered to myself as I eased the drawer to my desk shut. They’re backstage?! I could ask Tony about maybe re-auditioning me! I pushed back my chair and hurried to the door, opening it swiftly before stepping out into the hall.
I looked left and right in search of Tony and Dexter, and was elated when I caught sight of them disappearing around the corner towards the wings of the stage. With the door to my workroom left open behind me, I dashed after them.
“Mr Blake, sir? Please can I talk to you for a moment?” I called out to him desperately. The two men stopped just ahead of me and turned on the spot to watch my movements. They were both holding hot drinks in Styrofoam cups in one hand, and as I hurried to them, Tony took a long drink of his beverage at his own leisurely pace.
“You’re the girl who auditioned for Elphaba a few days back, aren’t you?” Tony mused to me from over the top of his cup once I was in earshot and had stopped speed walking over to them. Dexter was looking at me with wide eyes and mutely shaking his head at me from over Tony’s shoulder in a manner that I’d only ever seen in rom-coms. Could Dexter tell what I was going to ask from Tony?
“Yes, that’s me. I’m Jamie Gail,” I reintroduced myself, sticking my hand out to him formally.
Tony glanced at my hand for a moment before shaking my hand in return. “And also the girl who couldn’t make her call-back yesterday because she was cursed with travel sickness?”
I bit my tongue to fight off my sarcastic nature. “Yes, and I must apologise profusely for that… I’m sorry.”
“It seems, my dear, that I should actually be the sorry one,” Tony said simply. He took another sip of his drink. “From what I can recall, it was you and a green haired girl who stood out in our little improve audition. How ironic, Dexter, that the girl had green hair and wanted to be Elphaba!” Tony chuckled and sighed contently. “Pity that she couldn’t reach certain notes with that limited vocal range of hers…”
Dexter forced a smile where his mouth muscles twitched uncomfortably. His eyes were still directed at me in a warning.
“Thank you,” I marvelled. “But, I must admit that I have something to ask of you, sir.”
“Oh?”
I cleared my throat nervously. “You see, sir, I was wondering if I could perhaps re-audition for the Elphaba role?”
Tony simply blinked at me for a moment. “My girl, do you understand how little time we have here? Staging a private audition just for you would be very unfair on the girls who have already made it through to the final stage of the process. Whilst it is unfortunate that your talent cannot be used in this production, I’m sure you’ll find work elsewhere. It’s a no.”
The director put a patronising hand on my shoulder and patted me like a well behaved dog, before he walked off down the hall, still drinking from his cup. Apparently our conversation was over.
Dexter and I watched him leave, until Tony called back to Dexter to hurry up. Dexter turned to me and smiled sadly before hurrying off as well, leaving me alone in the empty hallway.
My heart felt like it was breaking apart all over again. Why had I even bothered? He’d praised me, but had denied me of my dream.
Anger raged in my blood as I stormed back to my workroom, my body quivering as my skin heated with hate. Why should I even try anymore? Everything’s going wrong! I can’t be Elphaba, I’m stuck doing crafts behind the scenes of Wicked where I can see Elinor and the other girls acting in the role, and now I have a fucking crush on my flatmate when he is hopelessly in love with another girl!
My hands started to shake as my fury began to consume me. My rational self had been thrown into a cage inside of me, the bars fused in place with a blow torch which caused the metal to pool at the joints. I was only anger, fear and frustration now, and that’s what made me snap the cogs I’d been working on into tiny shards. My arm muscles tensed as I ripped my work apart, enjoying the malice I felt as I let my anger take over. Inside me, my rationality was hitting itself against the bars of the cage I’d trapped it in, yelling and pleading with my subconscious to stop my physical self from acting this way.
The giant cog of cardboard and papier-mâché broke more easily as I tugged it way from my desk and kicked it to the wall.
With a wrench of my heart, I came back into focus as I stared to the once symmetrical and angular sides of the large cog, which were now malformed and dented, way beyond saving. I blinked at the shrapnel and mod rock shards that were on the floor as tears threatened in my eyes. My hands were sore and reddened as I dusted the excess mod rock from my fingers on the rough material of my jeans. I ached all over from the high emotions and increased blood pressure. I felt weak and ill all over again. I was so ashamed of myself for letting my angry side take over. I thought I’d surpassed that after being forced to do anger management classes? Apparently not…
In a state of panic, I attempted to gather up all of the broken pieces of my work and set them all out on my desk. I used glue and tape to reassemble the smaller cogs, and spent quite a bit of time trying to fix the larger cog back into place. None of them looked the same as they had before, and I could only remake one of the cogs because the other two that I’d made were too crushed.
Humming. I could hear humming. The sound was getting louder and louder, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and plea for forgiveness. I hadn’t meant to demolish a week’s worth of work. I hadn’t meant to waste not only my time, but to waste the theatre company’s money at these resources. I hadn’t, truly.
“What on Earth…” a startled Max said when she walked into my workroom through the still open door. She looked at my sympathetically as she came to stand at my shoulder. Her mass of black curls were straining against a red bandanna that she had in her hair, and her clothes were speckled with paint and dust from the stage. She was looking at me so carefully, almost fondly, that it made my heart ache. She was going to fire me, I could feel it.
“Jamie, you could have gone home over an hour ago,” Max said softly as she squeezed my shoulder. I watched in horror as she looked to my desk, where the shattered remains of my work were scattered. “What are you- Oh.”
It had to be over now. I’d wasted my time. I’d ruined everything for myself and caused trouble for Max and other people. I was so ashamed of myself, so without hope, that I wanted to move out to Malaysia live with Mum, which said something.
Not only were my chances of being Elphaba dashed, but I was now going to lose my job. Congratulations, Jamie, you’ve royally fucked yourself over. Well done you.