Misfit Theater Company (Wattys Winner 2018)

3. Misfit Theater Company

"Alright my thespians, break into your troupes and get to work on your 10 minutes," Mrs. Permala instructs the class.

I have no idea what any of that means, and when Mrs. Permala turns around, she must see the confusion in my face. She rests her hand on my shoulder as if to tell me not to worry. "Allow me to grab you a syllabus," she says. "Follow me."

I follow her up the stairs and into her office, which happens to be the control booth above the audience. Inside the booth is a cluttered wooden desk and pictures of past students who went on to acting careers. They smile big, cheesy grins in black and white portraits with their names across the bottom. As she shuffles through her piles of paper, my eyes are drawn to a specific picture on the wall.

"Oh my god, how do you have a signed picture of Grant O'Reilly?" I ask.

Grant O'Reilly is the star of my favorite show A Call from Midnight, which is about hacker detectives who investigate cyber bullying after victims call their hotline. It's kind of a stupid premise, but Grant O'Reilly plays the main character Vick Midnight who is tortured and beautiful and has the best one-liners.

"I taught him in this very theater," Mrs. Permala says. "Although, back then his name was Gary Ratlidge. Such a great student. Did you hear him thank me last year at the Teen Choice Awards?"

"No," I say. "I thought it was just a rumor that he went here."

She stops digging through her papers to look over her shoulder at me. "In his acceptance speech he said I was the reason he was on that stage." She beams, then returns to her pile of papers. "Of course, he received the award for best on-screen kiss with that girl he co-stars with--"

"--Tara Lyons."

"Right, so I'm not entirely sure how appropriate it was to thank me," she says, laughing to herself. "Thank me in your Oscar speech, not your best on-screen kiss speech."

She has a point, and I let myself laugh for the first time all morning.

"Okay, here is our syllabus." She finally pulls the syllabus out from the middle of the pile and hands it to me. "Read this over, and let me know if you have any questions. Many of your fellow thespians have been with me since freshman year, but Mrs. Thomas suggested you skip into 'Theater: Level 4' to keep you with thespians your age. Don't you worry, I will help you find a troupe who can guide you in finding your voice in this class. When you've finished, join us on the stage to meet your new compatriots."

"Okay," I respond and she leaves me alone in the booth. I do my best to read over the syllabus, trying not to feel anxious as I think about all the new things I'm going to have to learn or all the performing I'm going to have to do. I've never, ever performed in my life, and my heart races just thinking about speaking in front of all those people. What if I make a mistake? What if I forget what I'm supposed to do and I freeze?

All of these thoughts do nothing to help my brain focus on the words, and that's how it's always been, the root of the matter and the real reason my grades are the way they are. I struggle with reading, everyone knows that, but when I start to think about it, then I panic. Then I really start to struggle and my brain jumbles the words even more than it already does. Letters become disjointed and out of order, and anything unknown becomes a word scramble. Words I know, I can guess, because I know their basic shape and formation. Anything else, I stumble over.

I've never told anyone that my brain does this, not even my family. I'm way too embarrassed. I also know that there's a name for this, but I've never acknowledged it. The second I do, it may become real, and I don't want to be different. I don't want that attention on me.