Jade Awakening

Audition Cont.

The drama teacher returned from the double doors with a young man. This seemed unusual since every other person auditioning thus far did so by themselves. Not knowing what Sikowitz had in mind to do made me nervous for the first time since I entered the Black Box theater.

The young man looked vaguely familiar. It's possible he was in one of my other classes and I just failed to acquaint myself with his name. He was directed to stand by me on the stage and as he approached, I was less sure with myself. If he'd ever stood this close to me before, I'm sure I would have taken notice of him. His face was conventionally attractive -- scratch that, it was very attractive. His entire appearance would draw you in: his luscious, dark hair, his friendly eyes, and his seemingly 80s teen-movie style of apparel.

He seemed to be the exact kind of devilishly handsome boy any girl would want on their arm. Or the exact kind of boy to avoid, I thought to myself. Looking at him reminded me much of Ryder -- both incredibly attractive individuals that any girl would go weak for. Making this connection made me wary of him which did not help subside my nerves.

Sikowitz quickly highlighted an excerpt from the script that was not originally intended for me to read, I supposed. And then did the same for a second script. Curiously, he also took a black marker and covered up parts of the script that he may not have wanted us to read or get distracted by.

"I want to try something," was all he said. The other two teachers let him take the reins of the situation.

"Okay, Beck is it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Right, Beck, I would like for you and Jade to read-'' he pranced his way to us with scripts in hand, "this scene for us. This will be the last phase of Jade's audition. Consider this the start of your audition, as well."

Beck and I were both puzzled, but of course went along with our directions. I looked down at the lines highlighted for me to get a feeling for what the right tone would be. I tried to make out what was under the blackened lines as well, but they were illegible. Written next to all of my lines was "Wendla", and in this scene she was with a character named Melchior. I supposed that they must have been two minor characters of the show. The starting line for me seemed to be in the middle of a conversation and I had absolutely no context to give me an idea as to what the current situation these characters are in.

Sikowitz gave us only a few moments to proof-read our lines before he yelled, "And action!"

I turned to Beck and recited my first line in a sorrowful voice.

"Melchior, no-it just-it's..."

"What?" he asked, bearing his eyes into mine. "Sinful?"

"No. I don't know..." I said with what I assumed should be uncertainty.

"Then, why?" he asked with quiet curiosity. "Because it's good?"

My character doesn't respond, so I look to the ground. Beck puts his free hand on my shoulder and makes me look into his eyes.

"Because it makes us feel something?"

My heart starts beating harder now with him so close. A part of me is afraid, but I make my fear seem to be the character's.

His hand on my shoulder slides up to my face and he draws me in. Before he can kiss me as the script tells us to do, I can't help but to turn my face to avoid it. When his lips don't meet mine, he speaks his next line close to my ear.

"Don't be scared," he coos.

I take a glance of the script -- some of the next directions are blacked out, but I continue with what we have. Wendla still hesitates, but then nods to Melchior. He moves his hands from my face down to my sides and wraps them around my body. It's not acting when my response is a quiet and breathless:

"No."

"Please," he says as he continues to move his hands slowly, threatening to touch forbidden areas but never quite do.

"Don't. It..." I truly want to escape his clutch.  Despite no ill-intention, I still don't trust his hands.  They remind me too much of his hands.

"What?" he asks.

I let out an audible breath that communicates anxiety as he still touches.

"Wait." Suddenly I'm taken back to that dreadful Sunday. I'm not ready, I'm not ready, I'm not ready.

"It's just me," he says. This time I don't think it's just Melchior that is looking into my eyes. I almost believe that he would not do me harm. My terror calms slightly and I allow Wendla to believe it as well. 

 "It's just me."