𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 • Neil Perry

Chapter 5

AFTER tucking away the dwellings of midnight into her desk draw, she felt compelled to go to Steven's bedroom. Her parents were sound asleep as they had been for the past two hours and a half, so she tread carefully.

In both of the times she had been in this room, she hadn't taken the opportunity to properly take it in. He has loads of trophies and medals, all down to the merit of his intelligence.

This Mildred girl has smarts, but they're nothing compared to the likes of her counterpart. She inherited the creative gene, and he broke even on the brains.

On his desk were two framed photographs: one of him and his fellow Welton boys Charlie, Neil, Knox and Pitts; and the other was of himself and a young girl, no older than five or six. With her dark pigtails and round face, she knew she made no mistake in seeing herself.

She picked up the silver frame, running her thumb along the edge. Every photograph she integrated herself into somehow. She hardly remembered Mildred as a character in the original film.

Perhaps she didn't exist at all. Camille, Mildred both held the nickname Milly after all. That had to be no coincidence.

She placed the photo frame back down, putting an end to her inner turmoil. But her inner masochist prevailed. She picked up the wooden frame, looking at each boy smiling happily at the camera in black and white.

Milly knew she'd see Knox again at Chet's party that Chris would no doubt drag her to, but she wasn't sure she'd ever see any of the others again.

In spite of her better judgment fighting against it, she knew she wanted to.

So she went back to her bedroom, picked up her plot list and searched for an opening.

8. Neil joins play at some stage (no pun intended); rehearsals

If she figured out a way to be apart of the play, she could keep track of Neil and therefore keep track of the story. And instead of emptily going to school day in and day out, pretending to laugh about boys and rehearsing cheerleading routines, she could make better use of herself.

She may not be tearing the sky open with her bare hands and sending herself back to civilisation, but for the first time in forever, she was taking action.

Standing at an entry table in the reception area of Henley Hall, Milly did what she sort out to do: take action. Behind the wooden table sat a woman, a little younger than her mother, and her smile was warm and sincere.

"Good evening. What's your name?" she asks.

"Ca—" Milly cleared her throat, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Mildred Meeks."

"Meeks..." the lady mutters, running the tip of her forefinger down a list she had in front of her. After a short moment, she regarded Milly with furrowed eyebrows. "Your name's not on the list."

"Oh, I know. I'm not auditioning for a part. I wanted to inquire about helping backstage."

"That's doable," the lady relaxed. "We'll have to get back to you on it, but which department were you thinking of imploring—"

"Anything really," Milly interjects enthusiastically, flailing her hands aside herself, the cotton of her gloves tapping her coat soundly. "I don't mean to come off as desperate or anything but I love theatre. Most people live one life, actors live dozens. I'm not much of an actress, I'll tell you that for nothing, but I just want to be involved—one way or another."

The woman's whiskey eyes softened with deep appreciation. She leaned forward slightly, "You have me sold. I'll enlist you in costume for now." And she took no time in picking up her pen to make a brief note.