Song: Waves (acoustic) by Dean Lewis
***
"Today you'll be receiving your script. Alissa, Mitchell, Micha, Bailey, Eliana, Wesley, and Brendan - you will have the largest chunk to work on memorizing."
I accept my script gladly, taking a moment to leaf through it. It's not the most exciting script I've ever received and quite frankly, it's rather short for one of the lead roles.
Wesley is seated beside me as our director discusses things with the ensemble. Wesley is a tall, muscular boy that looks to be more suited for football than for performing arts. But alas, here he is next to me. He has longer ash brown hair that curls up on the ends, reminding me of the famous singer John Lennon from many, many years ago.
Wesley is tall, strong, and his family is quite wealthy - and that's when it hits me. And just as the question begins to slip out of my mouth, he cuts me off.
"Did you see the headline in today's paper?" he asks, his voice quivering.
The line. You have to say the line confirming you are a Hunter. He's checking to see. He must be a Hunter too.
My heart stops. I clutch my script tighter as my hands begin to sweat and my face heats up. "Y-Yes I did," I stutter, speaking slowly and carefully. I pause, and Wesley begins to turn away. "But it is nothing new to me." I swallow hard, every nerve in my body on edge.
Wesley's attention is diverted from his script and back to me. He stares, wide eyed and terrified. In the entire duration of my life I have never seen someone as nervous as him. His lips part as though he wants to speak, but he can't find the words.
I speak for him. "Did. . . Did they visit you too?" The Men in Black, I add mentally, and stifle my own nervous chuckle.
"Damn, they should have just given us all a tattoo or something," he chuckles and nods, his long hair drooping over his eyes. "Are you gonna do it?" he asks, then adds in a whisper, "Are you gonna, you know, kill the people?"
"No, absolutely not," I say without hesitation and he turns away, perhaps offended. I pull my flannel up onto my shoulder more, closer to the nape of my neck. I swore I wouldn't kill anyone, and I am determined to stand by that.
I flip open my script once more in an attempt to take my mind off things. With a sigh, I allow myself to slouch forward as I read.
I only get about three words in, however, before Wesley speaks again. "But if you don't, then they're gonna kill your family," he whispers, startling me.
"Look, that's probably just an empty threat to get us to do it," I say, although not entirely sure of my own answer.
Wesley turns a page of his script. "And you're gonna take that chance?"
I shrug. "Sure. But say I'm wrong, say it's not an empty threat - then I'll do whatever it takes to keep my family safe, with the least loss of life."
Wesley shakes his head and laughs through his nose. "Man, I think you need to get your priorities straight," he says, turning back to his script in a gesture that I assume means this conversation is over.
"I think they already are," I mutter, turning back to my own script.
~~~
"All right, excellent work today! Take your scripts home and remember to go get fitted in the costume shop!" the director calls, dismissing us for the day.
I hook my script under my arm as I leave, shouldering past the hordes of high schoolers who are stopping to gossip. I swear it's the same every day.
"Did you see who Brayden's dating?"
"Oh my God, they were roommates!"
"Wait so is it true the Mr. Nemmens got divorced?"
I roll my eyes as I force my way through the crowd, eager to get home to start working on my script. As I'm making my way past a particularly chatty group of girls, a commotion causes the entire flow to just stop. Frustrated, I close my eyes and perch myself against a wall.
"Mitchell?" an unfamiliar voice says.
I open my eyes and turn towards it. "Huh?"
It's a girl. She looks familiar but her name escapes me. "Congrats on getting Aladdin," she says with a shy smile.
"Oh, uh, thanks," I say. Then, my curiousity nagging me, I add, "I don't think we've met."
Her face flushes. "Oh, no we haven't. I'm Hailey, Hailey Miller. I'm in the ensemble," she grins.
Then it's my turn to have a flushed face. Now I know why she looked familiar - she was one of the girls listed in my white book, the Hunted book, headshot and all.
I stand stiff straight on the spot, my heart racing. If only she knew.
"Hey, are you okay?" she squints at me.
I guess I have a bad poker face.
Running a hand through my hair, I fumble for words. "Um, yeah. I'm good," I stutter. "I just forgot I have a, um, a project due tomorrow. So I gotta go. Nice to meet you!"
"Er, okay then." She stares at me awkwardly as I hurry out, forcing my way through the standstill crowd and to my car.
I keep trying to tell myself that if I don't kill them, they won't die. But the government is the government, so who's to say they won't send the suited men to do it themselves?
I try to relax the entire way home. But over the past few days, relaxation has been merely a dream.
***
