“So that’s your number. You will be called in order, and make sure to have your sheet music ready to go.” After I nod, the girl begins to leave again.
“Wait.” I tap her shoulder.
She turns and smiles. There hasn’t been one second in our entire conversation where she hasn’t smiled, and I’d think it was creepy if her sincere happiness wasn’t obvious.
“Yes?”
“How many people are going to audition? I’m only asking because I know people will be waiting around for the list to be posted afterward.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Thirty-five people signed up, but four of them got sick. It’ll still take a while for things to finish, butauditions have already started. They’re up to number sixteen.” She looks down at the smart pad and opens an app.
I’ll have about an hour to wait until my turn, then. Possibly less, possibly more. Too bad class didn’t let out a little earlier.
“Okay, thank you…” I trail off, looking for a name tag, and come up empty.
“Dakota, assistant, or one of the many assistants, to the stage manager for the day.” She sticks her hand out.
I grasp it in return, more nervous now that I’m meeting someone who holds some weight. “Stevie.” I pause. “Why aren’t you in there?”
She laughs, and I realize that it sounded rude. “She has two assistants, and one of them got sick. I’m filling in, so I’m only here today and tomorrow.”
“Sorry if that was rude.” I shrug.
She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks for everything. Hopefully, I’ll see you again after today.” I wave and walk to an empty seat in the waiting area for an hour or longer before she speaks.
“Stevie,” she whispers.
Turning, I find Dakota looking around discreetly. “Yeah?”
Once I’m near her, she leans down. “Stand straight when you’re singing. The director hates slouchers.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
She shushes me. “Don’t mess up more than twice on your monologue or song; they won’t give you a third chance.” Dakota’s actually doing this. “And finally, don’t sing anything fromCats,Les Misérables,orHairspray. The producer hears them all the time for these kinds of roles. He’d still give you a chance, but less if you were to sing from another show.”
I look at her, stunned. A little nervous at her last statement, but still stunned.
“You could get in a lot of trouble for that,” I blurt out quietly.
She looks at me, confused. “For what?” Dakota then shoots me a wink and walks away. “Break a leg.”
After composing myself from what happened, I sit and reread my monologue. Dakota might have made me more nervous, but it also helps knowing what I’m getting into.
A little over an hour later, I’m called in. I enter stage right and walk up the steps, where I stand center stage on the piece of red tape on the floor. Looking up, the light slightly blinds me until my eyes adjust, and I see six people in the audience. There are always at least three professors working in each school-run production, along with a bunch of students.
The second professor I see just so happens to be my academic advisor, and my stomach sinks. She doesn’t like me very much. She finds me annoying or something along those lines.
“Stevie?” the man who seems to be the director calls out. “Are you ready?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, I apologize.”
After introducing myself, I look straight ahead to the back of the theater, where it’s empty?—
Except, it’s not empty. There’s someone back there. I can only see a shadow from here, but someone is standing against the doorframe.
I redirect my gaze to the large clock on top of the doorway and read through my monologue, unsure of how well I acted it out. At least I didn’t mess up any of the words.
