“Auditions start next Monday.” The teacher couldn’t be more excited if she tried. The actors were all abuzz with the news themselves. “The rest of the week you’ll have free time to practice for the audition. Break a leg, everyone!”

The actors dispersed into groups, with a very concerning exception. Jen handed me a script, plopping it into my lap. I stared at it without comprehension, “I’m not an actor—”

“Page ten, line eight.” She flipped her script open, and I scrambled to open my own, wondering how she’d managed to even find a spare script. She must have asked the teacher for one. She lifted her head. “Wells, come over here.”

To my surprise, he sat down into the chair next to us. He looked at where our scripts were opened up to, and he flipped it open as well. More protests were already on my tongue. “Wait, wait. I’m not actor, I should be helping planning out props and stage direction—”

“We should always try new things.” Jen gave me a sarcastic pat on my shoulder. “There’s no rule against you auditioning for the play.”

“What—? No, there’s no way—”

“Didn’t you wave me over here to practice?” Wells empty remark made me quiet more than it did to cow Jen. She shrugged her shoulders, realigning herself out so her back was straight.

Her expression became serious, “Ready whenever you are?”

Maybe because of all the talk of fairytales, I’d half expected the play to be centered around one. There were so many things that bled the theme, I could find it in every corner of my life if I looked. The play, at least, had freed me from the constant theme hanging over my head.

It was a crime noir. One centered more on the betrayal of a detective from his lifelong partner and her apparent underground dealings. Him and his partner try to follow her trail after her betrayal, only to find she wasn’t the only one who’d had it out for him. As the detective’s life falls apart around him, she appears before him. She trains a gun on him. Exhausted, he doesn’t stop her and lets himself die in the end.

Jen had insisted she wasn’t going to play a main character, but she was clearly reading the lines of the wife. Wells had slipped into the part of detective, and I was the random side characters who occasionally had lines.

“Do you take me for a fool? How could I ever love a man so enamored with the rigidity of law, when those laws were the ones to fail me so dearly? Was I not a victim of a system who offered me no comfort in my weakest moment? Was I not a victim of the ones who swore me protection only to be the ones who held the blade? Do not act as if this was never a part of me.” Jen was arresting to watch. Her voice caught, lips trembling in emotion but face drawn in bitter acceptance. Every word was spoken clearly despite the careful warble she’d inflected on each word.

Wells himself looked seconds away from tears, voice wrought with torment, “I could have protected you. If only you’d ever told me of these atrocities—”

“Liar! As your wife I’ve seen it firsthand. You lay in bed with your badge more than you ever have with me.”

Since we were in the back, away from the other actors, there was less white noise to drown them out. The other back stagers were able to witness their acting first hand. So many of them had turned, watching as the two played out their part as though they were in the middle of the audition right then.

Abigail would kill me if she saw the admiration I held in myself at that moment. Even if Jen was awful, she did have the skills to back it up. It had to have been the same in basketball. She would have never become team captain if she hadn’t proven herself to be the best of the group.

As they went on, I would almost miss my lines, too distracted by them. I knew I broke the flow every time it was my turn. Even just reading out loud was too much. I stumbled and fumbled words and lines as much as they nailed them. If there was a Worst Actor of the Year award in the yearbook, I could already see my picture printed with the title.

To my surprise, Jen didn’t attack me for it. She was too focused on her piece to do so. It was a relief, and as time went on I did get a little bit better in my delivery. Not by much, but it was better than nothing.

After rehashing the same scene a few times, both of them noting things and highlighting certain things, Jen paused for water. She reached down and when she came back up with it in hand, she was staring at me again.

I waited for the worst, “You weren’t kidding. You suck.”

“I’m really trying…” Wells tapped my paper, causing my fight or flight to almost activate.

He held out his hand, “Here, let me see it.”

I easily let him take it, and watched as he flipped to the front and wrote down a collection of bullet points. I only needed to see the first one to know he was noting down all the things I was bad at. The list was going to include every acting skill known to mankind.

He spoke as he wrote, “I think the first thing to woke on is speaking up. You’re so quiet, it’s hard to hear you.”

“Are you really so surprised the mouse can only make squeaks?” The biggest reason I was having a hard time complaining about Jen was that as mean as she was being, it wasn’t like she was ever wrong.

Wells ignored her, focusing his attention only on me, “Try it. Just say a simple line. ‘What’s going on here?’”

“What’s going on here…?”

“Louder, from your chest.” If someone had told me there was a reality where I’d be spending drama class being taught how to act, I would have said maybe. If they had told me Wells, and more importantly, Jen would be sitting in front of me, forcing me to work on my voice I would have thought them deranged.

This was my third interaction with Wells, and the second one brought about from Jen’s own whims. She sat draped over her chair, a bored expression on her face, and she was more focused on my posture.

“Your back needs to be straight, and you should be leaning back. Like you’re trying to get away from something gross.”

“See, your voice is getting stronger. Now try to work on making your words clear.”

It had to have been one of the most taxing drama classes I’d had in a while, if not ever. There was a harsh coach and a not-mean coach who’d decided to take on the role of teaching me themselves. They were so good at acting already, I didn’t think they were missing out on not getting the extra practice time. The question was why they were wasting it on me.

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As the clock wound down, Jen leaned forward, “Hey Cinder, let’s make a deal.”

“A deal—?”

“If you audition and manage to get any part, I’ll promise to lay off of Nia and the new girls on the team.” There was no way that was ever going to happen. I wouldn’t even make a background character that didn’t speak. While drama kids got priority, anyone could audition for the play. I didn’t have a chance.

But I wanted to do something for them, even if it didn’t carry over into whatever story came next in all of this, “…You know I can’t do that.”

“Well, then I suppose I’ll leave you alone. I’m sure you’re sick of seeing my face so much these days.”

“I’ll try.” The words hit the air and Jen froze. It was the first time disbelief was so clearly written on her face. She waited, like I was about to retract those words and pluck them right out of thin air.

Wells glanced between the two of us, “I can help.”

“Wells, don’t you have better things to do than help this—”

“I can help.” He repeated. “It’d be nice if you were a little nicer anyways.”

As she fished for words, I did the same, “You want to…to help? Are you sure? I don’t want to waste your time. I don’t think I have a chance. And I don’t want all your efforts to go to waste.”

He handed my script back to me, and I looked at all the notes he scribbled down. He’d paid attention to every little quirk he noticed, “I have time. Especially now that I’m not doing any sports. Meet me here afterschool. We’ll practice every day for the rest of the week.”

“Thank you!” I clutched the script to my chest, so much surprise spilling out I’d almost forgotten just who I was talking to. I wasn’t sure what part Wells had to do in any of this, but I was near confident to say he played one. Maybe this would be for the better.

“I’ll see you afterschool, then.” With that promise, class ended.

//

Nia hugged me, and I wished my friends weren’t all fantastic at nearly cracking people’s ribs, “You’re absolutely crazy doing that for me.”

“You also found someone to teach you how to act as well? And a guy who isn’t afraid to call Jen’s bullshit? Who is this guy, he sounds like my type.” It was a joke, but it didn’t stop even more anxiety from pooling into my gut.

I disentangled myself from Nia, managing to officially take a seat at the table, “He’s just some guy. Kade knows him, they used to be friends.”

“Used to?” Abigail’s eyebrows raised. “I’m sensing some kind of drama. A good ol’ falling out?”

“I don’t really know.” And I was afraid to find out. After Abigail had invited Kade to walk with us afterschool, he’d become a stable presence to a degree. Wells was a wild card, and all of our interactions thus far had been painfully awkward and always relating to acting.

“If you get a part, I’ll finally go and watch a school play.” Nia rested her head in her hands. “Can’t believe my friend is about to become the next hottest star.”

“With her breakout role; background character number six.” Abigail offered me half of her cookie, and I closed my eyes, awaiting the food shame. Nia broke off half of her own cookie and they both set it down in front of me.

While I still ate both of them, I knew I was pouting, “I did this for you and this is how you’re treating me?”

“I appreciate it, Cinder. I really do. And even if you fail, it’s nice to know you tried to stop her for me.” She rested her head on my shoulder, a feat considering how much smaller I was than her.

“How has PE been? Has she been leaving you alone?”

“It’s been quiet. The coach has been pretty laidback so far, too. I think he considers the freshman to be pretty good and he’s excited as far as their team goes. He’s been pretty confident in varsity as well.”

“Are you confident?”

“It’s too early to say.” She laughed. “I always think we’ll be the shit each year and then we actually start playing games. It’d be nice if we could win it all this year. We got so close last year and then just…”

She’d cried her heart out after they lost the semi-champions. Me and Abigail had dragged her to my house after and wrapped her in blankets and got her all of her favorite snacks. Bad movies played on my tv until we all passed out on my bed that was too small for the three of us.

I wrapped my arm around her middle, “You have a few months until you have to worry about it.”

“And you’ll kick ass when the time comes.” Abigail snapped her cookie into another half and placed it in front of Nia. Nia stuck her tongue out, but like me, ate the offering. “You too, Cinder. I’m sure you’ll get something.”

“I really hope you guys are right.” I wondered how it would go.

//

Fox wasn’t in class. As much as I complained about him, I felt weirdly naked without him there. He was always talking to me or distracting me whenever he saw fit. And I hated to admit it, but his tutoring skills were top-notch. For the entirety of class I kept glancing back and hoping he was ok. The way we’d left off yesterday inspired a new wave of anxiety.

It rolled into a sea of it raging in my stomach.

The doors to the drama room were never this tall when I was going to class. But now it felt like I was staring into the gates of the underworld. I shifted from foot to foot, readying myself before I pushed open the doors.

Other students were already there. Some faces I vaguely recognized from class. Wells was there too, sitting on stage and talking to another boy. As I walked in, I tried to convince myself to go up to him. Instead I let myself freeze up.

Watching him, I wondered if he showed any emotion outwardly to those around him. His face was a blank slate, and it remained that way at all times unless he was in acting mode.

I’d hardly seen him interact with others before. A few moments with Jen, and the awkward walk with Kade. It was almost foreign to see him like this, especially when a ghost of a smile crossed his face. A hint of emotion was there in his eyes. I just hadn’t known where to look for it.

Forcing myself to move, I finally went up to him, “Um, hope I’m not interrupting?”

“No, we were almost done.” The other boy took that as his cue to leave and he waved goodbye to the both of us before descending on another group of people. So many drama kids were extroverts. I wished I could borrow their energy.

“If you want to meet Jen’s requirements, it would be easy to just be a background character with no lines.” Wells jumped right into it, not wasting time with any fluff. I refocused myself on the task at hand as well.

“Yes, that would be easiest.” There was no way I was going to get a voiced role, no matter how minor. Not with a week’s worth of practice.

He nodded, “I think our biggest thing would be body posture and expressions then. The most important one is to not let your eyes drift towards the crowd while you’re on stage.”

“That might…be difficult.”

“The lights are so bright onstage, you can’t even see them. It’ll be easier than you think.” He stood up and I did the same. Before I knew it, we were going through various breathing exercises and posture lessons.

If there was one thing I learned during the half-hour he spent teaching me, it was that my normal posture was terrible. I was eternally grateful Jen wasn’t here to add on any extra insult to injury. Wells was so matter of fact, I hardly found it in me to be embarrassed about it.

Like he had before, he added notes to my script. On the back this time, as there was little space in the front. It was a collection of tips and tricks and things to work on at home. We were on the path of speed running acting lessons.

“Thanks for all this. Really.” I made my own notes in the margins next to his cramped writing. All of his letters bled into one another, making it almost hard to read. My own writing was in stark contrast with how bubbly all the curves and circles looked.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, I have time.” He walked me to the door. “Besides, teaching others is one way to consolidate the information yourself.”

“Are you saying it’s mutually beneficial because it helps out the both of us?” He shrugged. “That’s good. As long as you mean it and aren’t saying that to make me feel better.”

He said nothing, instead looking distracted by something. He opened the door and peered out into the hall, his voice flat, “Kade, what’re you doing here?”

When I peered out, I found Kade sitting on the ground. He’d been doing homework, looking like he was waiting for someone. When he saw us, he scrambled to his feet collecting his stuff, “Sorry, I can explain.”

“Sure.” It was time for Kade and Wells’ awkward act, part two.

“Well, Abigail mentioned you were staying behind today. And when she said Wells was helping you with acting I thought that…I thought that I should say sorry. To you, Wells. I’m sorry about how I acted before.” His words were rushed and hesitant at the same time. He didn’t know what he wanted to say but he couldn’t say them fast enough.

Wells hardly reacted, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“I didn’t…ruin our friendship?”

“You can talk to me whenever.” Kade’s shoulders sagged, relief clear on his face. Wells, for a moment, almost looked embarrassed. “We can talk more later.”

“Y-yeah! Sorry Cinder. You’re always in the middle of our awkward moments.” He raised a hand to his neck, only to let it drop again as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.