It is with these wise words in mind, and the comfort of Titania’s speech being so similar to my own, that I choose the list of teenspeak to study now.
That is, until a tall, thin girl with smooth blond hair stalks across the floor and drapes herself over the empty seat beside me.
“What the hell is that, English for Dummies?” Kendal asks, sneering at the notebook. I should have expected her presence here at the audition, considering she is both an actress and apparently determined to make my life miserable. Lifting her pert nose in the air, she says, “It’s probably for the best you’re not really preparing, anyway. Don’t want to get your hopes up since you’re clearly out of your league.”
Just as frozen as I was in class, I begin the mental countdown from five, knowing what will happen. I make it no further than the count of four before Cat is leaning over my lap with a ferocious look. She has no need for biting words—she simply smacks her lips and clears her throat. Austin’s former girlfriend huffs, but returns to her seat.
Cat Crawford: cousin, friend, and constant defender.
“Do not let her get to you,” Cat tells me in a low voice near my ear, a hard edge infusing the lyrical tones in her voice. “She thinks she’s better than everyone because of her pathetic walk-on roles. The only semidecent thing she’s done was play a two-bit part on a CW show, and her character was a bitch, too. No worries, girl, you so have this.”
A chuckle that breaks into an adorable snort emanates from the row of chairs opposite us. I look up and lock eyes with a sweet-faced girl who tilts her head toward Kendal and rolls her eyes with a playful grin. I smile back in reply.
Recognition tickles the back of my mind, but I know I have not seen her before. The combination of her long raven hair and bright blue eyes is striking and unforgettable. Regardless, she is a kindred spirit, and her gentle smile in the midst of the emotional onslaught is a welcome sight.
“Forlani?”
A balding, pudgy gentleman waits at the door, staring at the list in his hands with as much interest as one would give to washing a pile of bricks.
Cat squeezes my arm. “It’s showtime!”
I force a smile. It is that. It is also time to prove myself and validate this entire excursion to the future. Standing on wobbly legs, I blow out a long breath. The amiable young girl across the aisle lifts her thumb in encouragement.
“Here I go,” I say, handing all but my copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream to my cousin. She whispers, “Good luck,” and I follow the bored-looking gentleman through the door, down a never-ending hallway, and onto a wide, open stage.
A scuffed black floor is beneath my feet. Soft curtains hang on either side. An empty yawning cavern where an audience usually sits is now dark, save for a lamplit table near the front. I inhale air filled with possibility and exhale sixteen years of believing this would never happen.
Standing on this silent stage is every daydream, every fantasy, and every fantastical wish I have ever had come to life.
Someone hands me a thin stack of papers, and I nod absently in gratitude. I cannot help wishing Mama or Cipriano were here to watch me, though I doubt even they would fully understand how much this means to me. It has been my long-kept secret desire…well, until my fearless cousin stepped into my world.
A feminine cough snares my attention. I trace the sound to the small table, illuminated by a few lamps on either end, in front of the stage. Two women flank the bored, balding gentleman behind it, their features barely discernible in the dim lighting.
“Miss Forlani,” the taller woman in the middle says, “my assistant handed you a scene from Romeo and Juliet. I realize you may have already prepared your own selection, but I prefer watching your process. It gives me a better grasp of how quickly you are able to think on your feet. This workshop is going to be a whirlwind, Miss Forlani, and I need actors who can keep up with me. You have five minutes to review the new material. Good luck.”
My copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream thumps noisily on the hard floor as I snatch the stack of papers closer to my nose. My poor heart takes residence in my ears, and I can hear nothing other than my racing pulse.
If ever there were a time for one of those colorful words I have heard Cat mutter under her breath, now would be it.
My knowledge of Romeo and Juliet consists of knowing it is set in Italy and is about a pair of star-crossed lovers who take their lives. At least that is what the first page said, which is as far as I got last night before sleep overtook me.
The highlighted monologue Ms. Kent selected is from Act Two, Scene Two. As I anxiously pore over the words, the familiar cadence of the language rushes over me. My tense shoulders and rigid spine lose some of their starch. I find myself in those few emphasized words, in Juliet. Particularly in the line, I’ll prove more true than those that have more cunning to be strange.
Yes, Juliet was a kindred spirit, too.
With a smile, I step into the circle of light in the middle of the floor. Remembering my cousin’s suggestion to act more modern, I lift my chin and say, “I’m good.”
“Begin when ready, Miss Forlani.”
I take a deep breath and let the light falling on my skin infuse me with warmth. I close my eyes and the sounds of the wide, open theater fill my head: the creak of a chair, the stomp of a shoe, the gentle murmur of voices waiting. I imagine the space filled with people, all there to see me. I open my eyes and begin.
…
Walking back into the well-lit waiting room, it feels as though my feet are walking on air, like I am floating and am no longer in need of solid ground beneath me. Cat jumps up and pulls me into an embrace.
“So,” she asks, her head still buried in my hair, “how did it go?”
At first, I cannot find my voice. Describing such an experience seems an impossible undertaking. But then I meet the contemptuous smirk on Kendal’s face, still in the same seat I left her. “They asked me to stay for the next round.”
The smirk falls, and a look of pure hatred washes over her face. Somehow, and it is wretched to admit, it makes me feel even happier.
Cat’s laugh borders on the demonic as she leans back and pumps her fist in the air. “I knew it! I told you—didn’t I tell you?” She hugs me tightly again and pulls me down into our seats. “Never doubt me, girl. You’re a natural.”
I shake my head and grin so big, I am sure Mama can see it back home.
The next two hours trickle by in an endless stream of hope-filled people walking in to audition and then leaving the theater despondent or in tears. And as each person leaves dejected, it is even more wretched to say, my confidence and belief in myself lifts a little more.
What kind of person does that make me, a person who finds joy and confidence in another’s misfortune? My cousin seems to think it makes me normal. I, however, am not so convinced.
After the last girl leaves, tissue in hand, and all that remains in the previously crammed waiting room are a handful of hopefuls, my eyes meet my cousin’s. The pride in her smile fills me nearly to bursting.
“They’re gonna call you back again soon, but remember that you’ve got this. You own this. I can say without a doubt that no one else here is a better fit for these roles than you.” A haughty laugh erupts from beside me, and Cat’s eyes narrow. “No one.”
When the door opens again, they call all five of us back together: loathsome Kendal, the sweet girl in front of me, two others who seem pleasant enough, and me. We fall in line, of course with Kendal taking the lead, and file down the long hallway and back onto the marvelous stage.