A Tantalizing Kiss

Masquerade

The bell rang, dismissing us from the last class of the day. I got up, walking out quickly. People lingered in the halls, waiting for their friends. I pushed past them, rudely.

                Pulling my jacket on, I slammed my locker shut, taking the opposite route than normal. I hadn’t told anyone of where I was going this afternoon. I tried to avoid any of my close friends with hopes that they wouldn’t ask.

                Once I was out of the junior wing, the hallways were fairly empty. A few kids walked down to their clubs or sports, bags slung over their shoulders, chatting with friends. I walked alone, looking for a familiar face to walk with.

                I pulled my phone out, checking the time.

                Ten after three.

                I tucked it back into my pocket, opening the doors of the auditorium. I entered through the back, closing the door as quietly as I could manage behind me. Yet, the sound still reverberated off the walls obnoxiously loudly.

                I could see a cluster of people sitting in the front five rows by the stage. Mrs. Stein stood up front, her hands on her hips. As I walked closer, I noticed she was staring sternly at me.

                I smiled gently, waving my fingers.

                A moment of silence passed as I took a seat in the last row on the edge.

                Mrs. Stein took a deep breath before continuing with her speech.

                “I hope that is the last of the stragglers walking in.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. A few kids chuckled, most unfazed by her comment. “As I was saying. For those of you that are just joining, I am Mrs. Stein, the director of this play. This is Mr. Wilson, our costume designer and set producer, and Ms. Hoffman, the back stage manager.”

                Wilson and Hoffman waved when their names were announced, but remained silent.

                “To be in this play is a full dedication. We need three hundred percent effort from you to pull this off. This is one of the hardest plays to do at a high school.”

                She paused for effect.

                “Practice times are three to six every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

                I raised my hand casually.

                “Yes, Mr. Johnson?” Stein asked monotonously.

                “And what if we can’t make all of those days every week?” I asked. While I had soccer practice after school every day until seven, Coach would be angry with me if I only showed up for two of the five practices. I hadn’t realized that we needed to attend so many rehearsals.

                “Then maybe you shouldn’t be joining.” Hoffman mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear.

                I frowned, opening my mouth to speak when Stein cut me off.

                “You need a note written to miss any practices. Monday and Wednesday practices are music and chorography for everyone. Friday is only needed if you get a role, which I’m assuming you won’t be, Mr. Johnson.”

                I raised an eyebrow as a few kids ‘ooh-ed’ at her comment. “You never know…”

                “Are you going to audition for one?” She asked skeptically