Chiara [PUBLISHED] ✔️

One

I have never felt such excitement before. My legs almost gave out as I stopped before the red door in the southern hallway. My heart raced, my auburn hair was sweaty and I wanted to scream out loud. Like a complete maniac.

The paper would be out in a matter of minutes. The paper that would determine whether I got to direct the school play.

All the nights I've wasted reading Neruda, Dostoyevsky and Hemingway would finally be of some use. My mind swirled with ideas and I didn't even know whether I got the job.

My toes curled and I squeezed my fingers as I waited in the high hallway, with beige walls and red carpets. Beside me, a statue of a fat, rich founder of Astley Academy stared at me. I didn't remember his name. Something-pretentious Astley.

My world narrowed down to the door in front of me; a dark red lacquered door that would open any second now.

The bell rang.

A swarm of people gathered around me, but I was the first one in front of the door. It meant more to me. I was chasing a dream. Well, I was chasing merit. When you're in high school, it's basically the same thing.

The smell of all kinds of perfumes engulfed me and whispers assaulted my ears.

"Who's it going to be?"

"It better be me, or my dad won't donate this year."

"I wonder who the actors are."

One voice stood out and was directed towards me.

"Jackie!" Stephanie shouted from across the hallway, elbowing her way through the angry mob of elitist pricks. "Did you get it? Ha? Did you? You did, didn't you?" She smiled widely and I thought she was beautiful, in a quite ordinary way. Her eyes were honey brown, gentle and without makeup. She wore stone-washed baggy jeans and a white t-shirt. It was hard to see such simple beauty amongst the perfectly done eyebrows and smokey eyeshadow. Much like you would miss a Forget-Me-Not amongst a garden of Orchids.

"It's not out yet." I murmured and continued my staring contest with the door. Anxiety rippled through me; they were late. Why were they late? They probably changed everything last minute and now I wouldn't make the cut.

"You'll get it!" Steph grabbed my forearm and clung to me. She was my crazy roommate; one I was incredibly grateful for. Steph was much wealthier than me, but she didn't have the attitude. It was because she was born poor. Or, you know, born middle-class. Which was poor for people around here.

Most of them couldn't even comprehend how I got in.

I fought like hell - that's how I got in. I wrote motivational letters, applied for scholarships, begged and clawed and I got in.

Astley Academy was a top-tier boarding school that offered the best education for the wealthiest of offspring in the world. And my sorry ass somehow managed to squeeze through the cracks in their nepotistic system. This school almost had a direct line to any college in the world. All I lacked was money.

So, I waited for the results. Directing a school play was the rocket for my trip to the moon. It was also my last chance, this was my last year. The end of the year school plays were a big thing in Astley Academy, the school that valued arts and creativity, as well as logic and science. At least that's what our website said.

"Mrs Felicia is taking too long." I grunted, feeling the pressure of all the people around me. Everyone wanted to direct it, but I was the only one that spent additional school hours talking to Mrs Felicia, our drama teacher, for the past two years.

"She's just trying to hype the thing up." Steph said cheerfully. "She is teaching drama, you know?"

The red door opened. My heart hammered. A petite brunette in her fifties carried a paper with our names on it. Last year, I didn't get the part. The year before – same thing. By now, I was desperate and clinging to the last strand of hope. And right before she put the paper on the board, her grey eyes met mine and she offered a sympathetic, weak smile.