The Last Chance (Book 2 of the Cheer Series)

Nine:

Rebecca

The next day at school, I'm asked by my English teacher, Mrs Logan, to stay after class. I have that really annoying feeling that I am going to get into trouble for doing something wrong, but I can't remember for the life of me, what on Earth I did.

When class is over, we wait until every student has left the class until she speaks.

"I hear you have put up quite the act, Rebecca. The school is in uproar." She comments. I shake my head.

"I don't understand ma'am." I say, and she smiles.

"They call you Queen Victoria due to your accent. I would think a girl your age would be affected by it, but yet, you are not." She studies me, "Instead, you rise above it, and pretend to be the Queen." She chuckles.

"I still don't understand. Did I do something wrong?" I ask, she shakes her head.

"No." She states, "In fact, I admire your response. Your response is the reason as to why I am speaking to you. Our major production is being put on stage in a few months time. We are holding auditions this very afternoon, and I did not see your name on the signup sheet. I would like you to audition. I am sure you will thrive and might even get a lead part."

My mouth drops open, and I shake my head to recover.

"I would like that." I smile.

"See you this afternoon then?" Mrs Logan questions. I nod.

"Here's a late pass." She hands me a small piece of paper and I make my way to the next class.

~~~~~~
The time for the auditions comes quickly. Too quickly, and before I know it, I'm sitting in the chairs, which overlook the stage. Mrs Logan and a few other teachers are standing on the stage with their clipboards.

"Alright. Welcome everyone. I know you are all eager to hear what our theme is, and we will reveal it after everyone has auditioned. You will each audition for 2 minutes, unprepared, obviously. Steven, will help you, and will read the lines of the other part. You will each get 30 seconds to read over the script, you will audition with, just before you go on. Good luck everyone. We will put the cast list out tomorrow after school. Enjoy it!" Mrs Logan projects, and this is earned by a lot of clapping.

I see my closet rescuer, and also the one who smirked at me when his soda spilt all over my white shirt. Thinking about it makes me blush. He, who I now know as Steven, walks onto the stage, smirking as he walks. He sits on a chair in the centre stage, and the teachers take their seats in the front, behind a desk. I assume he has been put on detention, and for his detention, he has to read lines. They had to do this in my old school. I narrow my eyes at him, and I can see him looking at me, and he winks. I scoff, shake my head and turn back to face the teachers.

They call the first names, and some are brilliant, and others are terrible. Different parts of the script are used each time, so every person has a different part. They still haven't told us the theme, and the pieces used from the script are so random, they don't make any sense.

About 50 people audition. No joke, and I'm last. They finally call my name for the 30 seconds preparation and I'm so nervous my hands are all sweaty. They hand me the small section of the script.

I read it over. This is difficult. My character is unreadable, and I have no idea what I should do to make the character my own. In no time at all, I'm called onto the stage. Steven is standing off to the side and I make my way over to him.

"When you are ready." Mrs Logan says, studying me.

I take a deep breath, and say the words, "I am not going to start a harmonica class with you George." I say it in a funny accent, and I hear laughter from the audience. This increases my courage and lowers my nerves.

"Why ever not?" I can hear Steven isn't using the same bored voice he has used every other audition, but takes his character, and I'm shocked at how well he is doing it. I narrow my eyes at him, and I find it actually works with the script, so I make the eye narrowing more dramatic.

"Well for one, we don't even own a harmonica, and secondly, where on earth are we going to find a teacher?" I say again in a funny accent, putting my hand on my hip.

"So you will go to a class then, if we get a harmonica and then a harmonica teacher?" He questions, looking perfectly serious. I roll my eyes.

"No!" I shout with a laugh.

"Find something else to do! I don't care that you were fired, find something else!" I shout, and Steven's face falls. I can see the script changes. They want to test our ability to adapt to certain situations.

"Oh George." I walk up to Steven and rub his shoulder. "I know you are feeling useless," I pause, and turn my head away from the audience, and whisper loudly, "which indeed you are," I turn my face back towards Steven, who pretends he didn't hear me, "But you will find your place, and a uh- purpose," I draw out the "uh" and end with "purpose" quickly, "and you will be just fine."

"Alright. Thank you." Mrs Logan smiles, and tells me to take my seat. Steven also follows me off the stage, and sits in one of the back pews.

"Alright everyone. Thank you for being here. You have given us a very tough decision to make, but we will still post up the roles tomorrow, and as for the theme," Mrs Logan smiles, and turns towards another teacher.

"Drumroll please!" The other teacher orders, and everyone hits their knees loudly. I raise an eyebrow and smile. Drama geeks.

"The Play is titled, "Three for One."" Everyone looks at the teacher confused. "You will see the story soon. It's a fairytale." Everyone claps their hands. Fairytales are obviously a popular, well-loved choice. I too love a good fairytale, it's always so romantic.

~~~~~~~

The next day goes disastrously slowly. It was plainly obvious why. I'm so nervous to go look at the list.

I sigh softly, as the last period, French, is still going on. Our teacher is piling up the homework, and the amount just keeps getting taller and taller. I wished I lived in Finland. No tests, no exams, no homework.

"Miss Black!" My teacher shouts in a heavy French accent.

"Yes Madame?" I reply, crossing fingers that the question she asks me is not too difficult.

"We are discussing quotes in French. I just asked the class, what "La terre a de la musique pour ceux qui écoutent." means?"

"It means," I pause, and the saying is relatively familiar, but I can't remember it exactly, "The earth has muffins for those who need them." The whole class bursts out laughing. My teacher looks sternly at me, but I can see the corners of her mouth are tilted slightly upwards.

"Not quite. The Earth has music for those who listen. It is a quote by William Shakespeare." She explains, and the school bell rings. Time to go see if I made it in.