The WRA Draft

Chapter Seven: The Confession

(one week later)

"Yeah, I've noticed that lately. And she complains about you and l—" Becca said. She quickly stopped herself, throwing her hand to her mouth.

We were sitting in the library talking about Maria not having a liking for me. Again. It was strange how much I've spoken to these four since the time they came to me. I was staying after school until 4:30 today, as I had percussion practice at six. Today was Friday and the staff had organized a lock-in for us. We were here at the school from six tonight to nine pm tomorrow.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. "Does she?"

"Way to go, Becca," Amia muttered.

"What does she say?" I ask them, genuinely curious. They looked around at each other. I raised an eyebrow. "Well? You can't just spill a couple of beans out." Still, no one answered. I didn't even care at that point. "Alright, don't tell me. I don't need to hear it."

"She talks about snobby you are," Brian finally admits.

"Snobby?" I repeat.

He nods. "She says that you walk around with your nose up in the air like you're the best."

I scoffed as I returned to the notes. Denver was right. I shouldn't listen to what she has to say about me.

"You're not offended?" Amia asked amazed.

"So, the notes," I began changing the subject. "Where's the start again? I find it then lose it every time."

"At the top. It looks orderly for a couple of lines then gets all crazy," Clayton replied.

"Okay." I nodded my head slowly while scanning over the notes. "Yeah, I see it."

I began copying the notes down on the document again. I finished typing the what was already written down. I skimmed the opening scene and realized how bland it was.

"You guys need to come up with a new opening. I'm sorry but this one is trash."

"What's wrong with it?" Brian asked reading the document.

I read from the notes, "Opening scene: girl walks out of barn after feeding pigs, cursing how messy they are. She's called over to the house by her mother to help clean the dishes and wash up for dinner. Come on. I've seen you guys do better improv than that."

"What's your suggestion?" Clayton asked.

"Open with a song," I said.

"That's what I said!" Amia declared. "Maria said it was typical."

"This whole play is typical."

"What kind of history are you suggesting?" Clayton asked suddenly referring to the idea that I gave over a week ago.

"Why does it matter?" I asked.

"Just curious." He shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms.

"Not what I came up with originally, I'll tell you that," I said pointing finger guns at him. Clayton chuckled. "Nah, I was thinking something better. Something more dramatic."

"The word massacre is literally in the name," Brian pointed out. "What could be more dramatic than a massacre?"

"It only lasted, like, five minutes. Something longer is easier to turn into a musical." I thought for a moment.

"What did you have in mind?" Clayton asked.

I thought some more before smiling. "The Women's Rights Act."