f i v e
godspell
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WINONA FELT RATHER GIDDY as she waited in the hallway for Polly and Jasmine, flyer in hand. Mr. Keating had sent her off with the task of watching the movie adaptation of Godspell; she tended to avoid anything religious, but he promised her it was nothing like she expected, and she trusted him.
As soon as she spotted Polly and Jasmine among the crowd of girls coming from chapel, Winona practically skipped up to them, saying, "I've found it!"
"Found what?" Jasmine said with a blink, taken aback but amused nonetheless. Winona was rarely this animated.
"What I want to do!" Winona said, still grinning. "What I think I could be really passionate about."
She handed Polly the flyer, and Jasmine leaned over to look at it.
"Godspell?" Polly said, looking back up at Winona.
She nodded, then said, "I'm gonna act!" Polly and Jasmine shared a glance. "I've always been interested but my parents would never let me try out for anything."
"And now they will?" Jasmine replied with a quirk of her eyebrow.
"Oh, hell no, but that's not the point," Winona told her. "The point is, for the first time in my whole life, I know what I want. And for the first time, I'm gonna do it whether my parents want me to or not. Carpe diem, goddamn it!"
Polly grinned at her friend, but Jasmine said, "Nona, how are you gonna be in a play if your parents won't let you? Like, stick it to the man, but how's it gonna work?"
"First I have to get the part, then I'll worry about that," Winona replied with a nod, feeling quite confident.
"Won't they kill you if you don't let them know you're auditioning?" Jasmine pressed.
"As far as I'm concerned, they won't have to know about any of it," Winona said, smiling smugly.
Jasmine shook her head. "Come on, that's impossible."
"Bullshit. Nothing's impossible."
Tentative to join in on the keeping-Winona-realistic-train but concerned nonetheless, Polly said, "Why don't you try asking them? I mean, maybe they'll say yes...."
"They wouldn't," Winona replied. "If I don't ask, at least I won't be disobeying them."
"But, I mean, if they said no before...."
"Jesus Christ, whose side are you guys on?" Winona said with a small chuckle. "I haven't even gotten the part yet. Can't I enjoy the idea even for a little bit?"
Jasmine shrugged.
"I'm sorry," Polly replied, hooking their arms together. "I'm proud of you. I am. I want you to do what you want to do. I just worry."
"Yeah," Jasmine added, "What she said."
Though they were being a bit of a drag, which Winona completely didn't understand — they had been telling her to do what she wanted just the other day, after all — she didn't let them bring her down.
They're not artists, she told herself. They don't understand.
She was right. Jasmine was going to be a doctor and Polly a politician. They thought Mr. Keating's lecture was moving, but they didn't take it to heart as much as Winona did. Winona chewed up his words, digested them, and soaked them all in — and now, with his guidance, she was going to act.
It was all she could think about. The thought of being on a stage excited her, and consumed her thoughts for the rest of the day — causing her to stress out her math tutor, piano teacher, and gymnastics instructor.
Her mind buzzed at the dinner table that night, but she kept up the casual conversation about classes with Pamela and Lawrence; never in a million years would she ever, under any circumstances, tell of her newfound dreams to become an actor. They would faint on the spot.
Mr. Keating's words shook her to her core. It was time for her to take control of her life.
🌻
Winona was in an incredibly good mood. She joined Pamela and Lawrence at the dinner table, a small smile on her face; she didn't even mind that she wasn't particularly fond of the meal in front of her. One of Pamela's favorites.
She glanced at her parents, feeling a lurch in her stomach when she found that they didn't plan on ignoring her, as usual — instead, they were staring directly at her, hands folded on the table and food untouched. Lawrence looked away almost immediately, as if it was hard for him. Pamela, on the other hand, kept staring.
"What's up?" Winona questioned, her heart already pounding.
"Is there anything you want to tell us, Winona?" Pamela asked, head tilting slightly.
Oh, fuck.
When Winona didn't say anything — she was so frightened about what they would do, she couldn't even begin to confess — Pamela reached a hand into her lap and pulled out a piece of paper, setting it on the table. Winona's eyes flickered to the flyer. Her heart sank. But she could have sworn she threw it away.... She glanced at Timothy, the butler, who scratched his nose.
"Please tell me you plan on watching this play and not on participating in it," Pamela said. Winona sighed, looking down at her hands. Pamela shook her head, saying, "No, no. You will not be doing a play of any sort."
"I already got the part," Winona declared with strength in her voice. A smug expression escaped through the gleam in her eyes despite her efforts to keep it hidden.
Pamela didn't say a word. She looked at her adopted daughter, pushed her chair back, and left the table, food untouched. She always liked dramatic effect.
Winona looked to Lawrence, pleading with him to understand. He seemed to have a soft spot for her.
"Godspell, right?" he asked. Pamela lingered in the hallway to listen. Winona nodded. "What part did you get?"
"Uh, the sarcastic sultry one," Winona said.
"Absolutely not!" Pamela shrieked as she stormed back into the dining room. "I won't have a daughter of mine play a harlot in front of everyone!"
"It's all in good fun! The play's about Jesus, for shit's sake!"
"That's not the point. If you make a fool out of yourself, everyone will look to me. Besides, you haven't got the time in your schedule to compensate!"
"I can drop French!" Winona said, tears forming in her eyes. She hated arguing. "I'm shit at it, anyway. When am I going to need it?"
"When you become an international lawyer, that's when!" Pamela shouted.
"I don't want to be a fucking lawyer!" Winona shouted back, standing up and pressing her hands on the table, a tear dripping down her cheek. Pamela stared at her, fuming. Lawrence pinched the bridge of his nose.
"And math? Have you given up on that, too?" Pamela asked. Winona didn't reply, and Pamela shook her head, letting out a scoff. "Ridiculous. You'll end up a bum, or one of those sorry lots in South Hampstead. You won't go anywhere with acting."
"Your lack of faith in me is astounding," Winona said incredulously, another tear dripping down her cheek.
"She's just being realistic," Lawrence intervenes. Winona straightens up to cross her arms.
"You will become a lawyer, Winona Antoinette Monroe. And you will quit that play."
Winona shook her head slightly, completely baffled, before turning around and walking out of the dining room. She would have shot a glare at Timothy if she wasn't completely drained.
"I expect to see a change in your attitude by the morning, young lady," Pamela said as she returned to her seat at the table.
Winona let her have the last word, wiping the tears from her cheeks and letting the anger bloom within her.
🌻
"Now remember, Winona," Paola started, a girl with short, wavy brown hair who was playing Jesus told her, standing behind Winona while she applied the finishing touches to her makeup, "if you're not dorky enough, I won't be the only one getting crucified."
"Got it," Winona said with a chuckle, smoothing the dirty blonde hair pinned up into victory curls.
"I'm serious. If you so much as bat an eye — "
"Taking you seriously is impossible with that beard."
Paola narrowed her eyes, continuing, " — Mrs. Murphy and the others will all take turns biting your head off."
"Kinky."
"Jesus!" a cast member, Jamie, gasped as she walked by, directing her wide, scandalized eyes to Winona, who laughed.
"What?" Paola asked.
"Not you, Jesus. The expression 'Jesus.'"
"Don't use the Lord's name in vain," Polly declared as she walked up next to Winona. She was dressed in all black, a headset resting over her straight, red hair.
"I'm Judas, I do what I want," Jamie replied, walking away.
"You're also John the Baptist! Shapen up!" Polly replied back before crossing her arms.
"Okay, I'm going to go find the sandwiches," Paola declared, walking away. Winona stared at her reflection in the mirror — red lipstick, winged eyeliner, intense eye shadow for the sake of her character. It was kind of exciting, pretending to be someone else.
"Your parents aren't here, if you were wondering," Polly said.
"I wasn't," Winona lied, turning in her chair to look at her friend. "But that's a good thing, isn't it?"
Winona managed to hide from Pamela and Lawrence that she kept going with the play — she paid her French teacher to say that she had been going to lessons, she only practiced the musical numbers out of the house, and she rehearsed her lines on walks to and from school.
Mr. Keating was the first to hear about her argument with Pamela; he was the one to convince her to stick with it. To prove to them that this was what she wanted to do.
As far as Pamela and Lawrence were concerned, Winona had given up on her dream. But that didn't keep her from wishing they'd see the performance; she worked rather hard on it, after all. She wished they were like any other parent. Proud of her. Mr. Keating had acted more like a parent to her the past semester than Pamela and Lawrence ever had.
"Anyway, you should take your place. Curtain's up in five," Polly said. Winona nodded, looking down at her lap. "Knock 'em dead."
Winona smiled, and Polly turned away to tell the others to get into their positions, as well.
A few minutes later, Winona stood on stage with a suiting smirk on her face, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of limelight. She looked out at the dim crowd and declared her first line: "Atheistic existentialism, which I represent, is more coherent. I do believe it."
🌻
At intermission, Winona stationed herself in a reserved aisle seat in the audience, a quarter of the way down the auditorium. Her chin previously propped on her fist, Winona straightened up and looked around the room — families chattering, parents waiting to see their daughters on stage once again.
She turned her head toward the doors just as Pamela arrived, looking livid. She remained at the very back of the auditorium, not bothering to find a seat.
Before Winona could figure out whether she was anxious or relieved, the lights dimmed and the music began.
"You're not Winona Monroe with shitty parents and a death sentence," she murmured to herself, her eyes closed. "You're a character in Godspell, and you're gonna rock these people's socks off."
She took a deep breath and, just before her cue, slouched back in her chair and crossed her leg. She painted her face with another playful smirk just as a spotlight illuminates her spot in the crowd.
"Turn back o' man, forswear thy foolish ways," Winona sang into the small microphone taped to her cheek, the style of the song representing a moody jazz singer's from a few decades ago.
Winona continued singing as she strut down the aisle, stopping every so often to give an audience member special attention, before declaring her signature line, "C'mon Jesus, let's make some miracles!"
Pamela nearly left the room.
🌻
Winona stood alongside her fellow castmates at curtain call, the lot of them holding hands and waiting for the curtain to rise. Winona grinned from ear to ear; no one has had the chance to give her so much as a glare for her slightly scandalous performance, so she had yet to come down from her high.
The curtains rose, and with it came the bright theater lights and a standing ovation.
Winona continued to grin as she bowed with the other actresses. When they came up and let go of each other's hands, Paola pushed Winona up in front of the rest of them. Her grin widened at the new wave of applause. For her.
She looked toward the back of the auditorium, where Pamela stood with crossed arms. She wasn't smiling, let alone clapping. Winona's grin faded as she watched her adoptive mother turn away and walk through the doors. She shifted her gaze to her feet as the curtain fell for the last time.
"You did so well!" Polly squealed as soon as Winona walked backstage.
"Thanks," Winona replied, attempting to recover the high from before.
Polly's eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong? Did Mrs. Murphy already find you?"
"No," Winona sighed. "Pamela's here."
"Oh," Polly said quietly, studying her friend's crestfallen expression.
"She didn't look too happy," Winona added as she walked toward her chair and mirror, beginning to take off her costume.
"Maybe she was just shocked by how good you were," Polly suggested as she sat down in the chair.
"Doubt it."
"Who knows — "
"I know her, Polly. Even if she thought I did a good job, she'd never tell me. She showed up halfway through, anyway. She won't ever accept that what I want is different from what they want. Instead of flowers, I'll get grounded for the next five years."
Polly sighed, attempting to find the words to say as Winona changed into her own clothes.
"Polly," the director called, causing the redhead to look over. "Time to clean the set."
"Okay," Polly replied, waiting for the woman to leave before directing her attention back to Winona.
"It's okay, go," Winona said to her friend. "I'll call you later." Polly nods, offering Winona a short shoulder rub before reluctantly walking away.
Winona folded her costume and cleaned the vanity before taking one last look of herself in the mirror. She smiled softly, sadly, wishing she had a proper mother to kiss her on the cheek and call her radiant.
She considered wiping off her makeup and taking out the victory curls, but she decided against it; she'd give anything to spend a little more time pretending to be someone she wasn't.
"Winona!"
The young lady quickly turned her head to find Pamela, fire in her eyes.
"You've been keeping us waiting far too long!"
"Sorry," Winona said in a quiet voice.
"Come on, then."
But Winona found some of the courage that was sparked from the performance and decided to stand her ground, staring at her mother defiantly and attempting to keep any emotion out of her expression. Pamela stared back for a few moments, eyes narrowing, before stomping forward and grabbing her forearm.
"What the hell!" Winona reacted, Pamela pulling her toward the exit. "Let me go!"
Pamela didn't say a word as she tugged Winona out from backstage and into the auditorium, filled with families congratulating their daughters.
"At least say something!"
"I am not having this conversation in public," Pamela harshly whispered, continuing to drag her daughter away from the stage.
"You're afraid of making a scene? Really?" Winona said rather loudly. Pamela came to a stop and sharply turned around, letting her go.
"You disobeyed my orders," she declared, breathing a bit harshly. "I found out at dinner with the Rochesters! They said their daughter was thrilled to be in a play with Winona, and I said that can't be right — our daughter isn't in a play! And they said oh, she's singing 'Turn Back O Man!' Our daughter says she's the best of them all!" Winona crossed her arms. "You embarrassed your father and I. The looks on their faces... they belittled me!"
"Maybe it was good for you," Winona said. "You seem to think very highly of yourself, controlling other people's lives and all. Maybe that's why Lawrence hasn't left you yet."
Pamela slapped Winona across her cheek. Winona froze, completely in shock, her face stinging and eyes welling with tears. She pressed a palm to the burning red mark and looked at the woman, feeling actual fear toward her for the very first time. Any shred of hope for her to be truly seen as her mother was gone now.
Pamela straightened her blazer, her eyes a bit wild, before saying, "Come along, then," and walking toward the door. Winona followed as a tear fell down her cheek. "Lawrence is waiting in the car."
Pamela violently pushed the doors open, causing some of the people congregated in front of the building to turn their heads.
"Winona!" someone called. She continued walking, timidly searching for the source of the sound. Mr. Keating jogged over, saying, "Winona, you were fantastic!"
"Thanks," Winona replied with a small smile. His grin faded as soon as he caught up to the girl, who had stopped walking.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, quickly wiping a tear off her cheek. He spotted the bright red mark on her face at the same time Pamela called Winona's name, making the young girl shudder. "See you Monday, Mr. Keating," she mumbled before walking toward the car parked just a few feet away.
Appalled, he met Pamela's eye, who had trouble hiding her slight panic.
"She's my daughter," Pamela defended. "Get your own."
Winona turned her head to give her teacher an apologetic look.
"Get in the car, Winona," Pamela warned. Winona complied, shutting the door and looking down at her hands. Pamela got in the passenger seat and Lawrence began to drive away, leaving Mr. Keating and the play behind. "You're wiping that makeup off as soon as we get home."
Another tear fell down Winona Antoinette's cheek.
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author's note ;
so when i went to korea i left my notebook at home, which contains a bunch of content for this fic, so i couldn't update. my bad :( pls don't kill me :( but i'm back now and i have my notebook !! the stars have realigned !!
korea was good but i got my heart broken lol. mayhaps i'll write a story based on it. stay tuned