Chapter 2

London and Abigail had been waiting in line for an hour when they finally got their forms to audition. London looked over the information she was required to give and said, “I hope they don’t give this out to solicitors.”

Abigail laughed, but the Drama Club boy helping them was a little slow. “No, we only use this information within the Drama Club. We are not affiliated with any other organization. We use it when we need to call you with any schedule changes or other emergencies.”

London looked up at him with mockery in her eyes. “Right. Thanks.” She began flipping through the pages. “How much longer are we supposed to wait before we can audition?”

He obviously loved being important; he dragged out a long “ooh” and examined his watch for a few seconds before saying, “It shouldn’t be any longer than an hour. We are really busy today; the Drama Club is too popular for the number of positions available, so it takes a long time.”

London smiled really big in order to hide the laugh threatening to come out, “Uh-huh. Thanks.”

“My name is David. If you need anything just call my name and I will be able to answer any questions you might have.”

Abigail had to answer this time because London had lost control of her giggles, “Thanks David. We will let you know.”

He gave Abigail a friendly smile and London a curt nod before leaving to hand out more forms.

Once he was out of earshot London really let herself go, “That is reason number 79 why you should never join Drama Club.”

Abigail laughed. “I admit he was rather odd, but not everyone in Drama Club is like that. There must be some normal people.”

“Don’t count on it. Everyone knows that drama kids shop at Emo Geeks R Us and Not So Hot Topic.”

London began filling out her form with wrong information. She didn’t want anyone calling her about practicing art with a bunch of psycho thespians. When it was finally their turn, Abigail and London entered the theater together. There wasn’t much to see. The high school auditorium was dimly lit, and there were two teachers sitting behind a table in the middle of the seating section. One was a woman who looked desperate. Most likely one of those dreamers who planned on being a famous Broadway star once she finished school, but never had the talent and got stuck directing emotionally disturbed teenagers in crappy performances instead. She seemed on the verge of tears as she looked at the group of hyper freshmen and skinny seniors on stage. The other director was a man in his late fifties with white curly hair and a white curly goatee. He was tall, skinny, with long legs and a horse-shaped face. London couldn’t help but think that he looked like an overgrown goat in a bad sweater vest. To her he could be nothing other than Billy. She leaned over to Abigail. “Maybe they are planning on Animal Farm for next fall and he’s gonna be the lead.”

Abigail smiled, “Well, they could probably cast you as the pig.”

London pushed her nose up into a snout and began oinking. “Not a bad idea. I look good in pink.”

The audition exercises were somewhat bogus and London felt like an idiot standing there pretending to be happy, sad, or angry. Once they were over, Abigail and London hopped off the stage and took their seats in the auditorium. After a few more rounds of bad drama, the auditions were finally over and Billy stood up. He began thanking all those who participated in the auditions; he was flattered by the large turnout and thought everyone performed remarkably well; unfortunately, there were only twenty parts. “For those of you who are not asked to stay we would love to have you be a part of the play and work on the set design, costumes, or lighting crew. David will be able to help you with that.” David gave a friendly nod to the large group of freshmen with anxious faces. “Without further ado, we are ready to start our second round of auditions. When your name is called could you please take the stage and wait for a script?”

London and Abigail went up to the table where Billy had posted the list of students who had made it into the play. Some students were squealing in delight and hugging one another, while others were wiping away tears and pretending to congratulate. London found her name about half-way down the list, but she couldn’t find Abigail’s anywhere. “Abby, your name isn’t on here.”

“Yours is.” Abigail smiled up at London, but was obviously disappointed.

“Well, I don’t want to be in the play. Let’s just go and forget about it.”

London began forcing her way through the crowd of students huddled around the list when she heard Billy start speaking again. “To begin with, would London Downing please go up and turn to page twenty?”

Both girls stood there in shock. London didn’t know who was more upset. She definitely didn’t want to be in the play, and Abigail looked hurt. David bustled over and handed London a new script.

After a few moments, Abigail nudged her and said, “Well, go on. Don’t just stand here.”

London looked at Abigail, who gave her two thumbs up. She quickly took off her jacket, and climbed up onto the stage. She stood feeling extremely exposed and inferior.

Billy smiled at London from where he sat. London thought it was a little weird, though, probably just because she had Mr. Leonard and now all teachers seemed like pedophiles. Billy looked at his notes. “And Hyrum Ringeisen will play John Proctor. Please begin on page twenty.”

London turned to see a senior built like James Stewart walking out of the side wings. He was about six foot three, with jet black hair that was haphazardly combed to the left, and a handsome face covered in a million freckles. His confidence was somewhat startling and London hated the idea of humiliating herself in front of him.

London opened her script and found the scene. Her heart dropped to her stomach and began flying around her chest all at once. This was quite possibly the worst day of her whole education, even worse than when she peed all over herself during football in the fourth grade. Of course, the one scene she would ever be required to act was the one in which a major skank begged an older man to sleep with her. London usually loved this scene, but now she wanted to burn the pages. It was a beautiful scene as long as she didn’t have to be the skank and beg a hot senior to do the nasty with her in his barn. London’s mouth dropped open and stared at the boy. He looked at her somewhat funny and then gave her an encouraging smile.

She was almost a foot shorter than him and came up to just below his shoulder. He seemed huge now that they were standing next to each other. London wanted to run in the other direction but it felt like someone had super-glued her shoes to the stage. Everyone was watching her; it was like she had forgotten to wear clothes or something.  

Hyrum finally opened his mouth and said, “I think you are supposed to start.”

London was jolted out or her misery and could feel her cheeks becoming warm and tingly. She read the first line out loud and her voice cracked, “Gad. I’d almost forgot how strong you are John Proctor.”

 “What’s this mischief here?”

“She’s only gone silly somehow. . . Give me a word John. A soft word.” London began to feel a little dizzy and used the card table on stage to keep from falling over. She leaned heavily on it and began taking deep breaths in order to keep from fainting.

“Put it out of mind Abby,” He raised his voice at London and took a step closer to her.

“I saw your face when she put me out, and you loved me then and you do now.” The words came out shaky and high pitched.

Hyrum leaned back but continued, watching her intently, “Abby, that’s a wild thing to say.”

London couldn’t raise her voice any higher than a wobbly whisper. She could feel the tears begin to form in her eyes as she read the next line, “A wild thing may say wild things.”

He continued to back up little by little while he spoke his lines, “We never touched, Abby.”

Just as Hyrum was about to leave the stage London said the next line. It was awkward and desperate when it came out. “Aye, but we did.” He stopped and waited for her to go on. She kept her eyes on his neck in order to ignore the large crowd of people in the audience. “I marvel how such a strong man may let such a sickly wife –“

At this Hyrum turned around and yelled at her with full force, “You’ll speak nothing of Elizabeth.”

London just stood on the opposite side of the stage and stared at him. She couldn’t believe how much she had upset him. They looked at each other for a few moments, him nothing but anger and her nothing but shocked fear. Time seemed to be taking unusually long to progress.

After what seemed like a year, Billy put down his pen and began clapping. The other students in the auditorium began clapping as well. “Thank you very much, London and Hyrum. That was excellent.”

David came up on stage to take their scripts, and London almost jumped down his throat. “Am I done now?”

He gave her a big smile and said, “They won’t need you any more tonight.”

She muttered a quick “Thanks,” and hopped down from the stage. Abigail was waiting for her in their seats. “Let’s get out of here,” London begged.

Abby was bright and cheerful as she took London’s bag for her, “London, that was amazing.”

London rushed for  the door, “What are you talking about?”

“I mean you did really good! You looked terrified up there.”

London let out a nervous giggle, “Are you kidding me? I was terrified. Did you see how ticked off that Hyrum kid got?”

“Yeah, you two were awesome together. He is a really good actor.” Abby bounced in front of London and held the door open for her.

“Can we just not talk about it anymore? I really don’t feel like it.”

Abby shrugged her shoulders, “Sure. Fine with me, Miss Williams.”

London stuck out her tongue and slid into the front seat of Abigail’s junky car. “I’m tired, and I still have to work on my Tom Sawyer report tonight.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Tell me about it. I hate Mark Twain.”

Abigail turned the key and the car started shaking. “Feels just like you’re in an airplane doesn’t it?” Abigail laughed, but London was too distressed to get the joke. Abigail reached over to ruffle London’s hair and said, “I’ll do your report for you. Mark Twain is a cake-walk. Just spout out some random stuff about regionalism and local color and any teacher is dumb enough to give you an A.”

London smoothed down her hair, “Oh, Abby, I love you. You are the best.”

 She slid the shift into gear and held up a finger, “On one condition.”

“I will do anything.”

“You have to accept whatever part they give you in the play.”

London laughed out loud; she knew the likelihood of being asked back for more embarrassment was very slim. “Sure thing, Abby, whatever you say.”