Misfit Theater Company 2

5. Maypole and Puppet

Mr. Taylor doesn't allow for talking during class today thankfully, so all I need to do before I can go to Ensemble Theater is run out the clock. For junior year English, he tells us that we will be focusing on American literature, starting with the transcendentalists, whoever they are. He passes out packets to each of us with an essay printed on them called "Self-Reliance," which he tells us will be due, read and annotated, by Friday.

One of the other students raises his hand and says, "You're giving us from Tuesday to Friday to read a packet? Are you sure?"

I mentally smack him for basically saying we were getting too much time to do a small task, until Mr. Taylor smiles and says, "Oh... you'll need it. This one is tough."

Looks like Thatcher and I will need some time in his shed to work through this one then, I think, and mentally remind myself to tell Thatcher in a few minutes as the bell rings for us to leave.

I start out and hurry into the hallway so I can make it to theater on time, but I hear a familiar voice call my name behind me. I slow down so Gina can catch up.

"What's up?" I ask, still hurrying. She keeps up with me, likely remembering how theater is literally in the farthest part of the high school from here.

"I was wondering if you had any plans this weekend, in case you wanted to hang out," she says.

"Oh, sorry, I can't. There's a theater party thing on Saturday," I say. Thank you Sean and Emma.

"OK, what about Friday? Girls night in like old times? There's this new show on Netflix I've been binging and I think you'll love it."

Darn it. Why didn't I just say no and leave it at that?

"I think Thatcher and I will probably want to hang out," I say. It's not a lie, since we probably will want to hang out, but it's not exactly the truth either.

"Fine, not this weekend, but I'm extending an olive branch, even though I feel like I've been punished enough," she says, stopping. I notice that she's no longer walking beside me, so I just wave goodbye and keep walking. This is such a typical Gina move: say something that makes you sound like you're a nice person and then punctuate it with a guilt trip. I'm not falling for it again. I just have to keep walking, and maybe ask for a seat change in English.

By the time I get to theater, I'm pretty annoyed that I even tried to sit with her yesterday, so it doesn't help that Paige is the one who greets me first as I walk down the stairs towards the stage where people are congregating.

"Hey Jane," she says. Her voice and smile seem equally fake.

I need to calm down, I think to myself, but my mouth is not with the program. "It's Janie," I reply.

"Janie, right, sorry." She smiles, crosses her eyes, and shakes her head as she says this. "Excited for the audition process to start?" she asks once her head and face stop being over-dramatic.

"You bet," I say, almost a little too sarcastically as I set my bag down on a seat in the front row.

"Hey Patti," Paige says, and I turn around to see Patti coming down the stairs toward us. "What about you? Are you excited about the audition process starting?"

Patti looks like she's seen a ghost. Her face is more pale than normal and her stare is wider than normal while she very clearly lies to Paige in a fully monotone voice: "Yeah. So excited."

I step toward Patti, passing Paige with a subtle but necessary nudge because she's standing, like, right at the end of the row, and place my hand on Patti's upper arm. "Are you OK?" I ask.