Enter Mary-Jane: The Diary Entries

March 12th: Play Results!

Friday, March 12th: 9:08 pm

DIARY!

I got it! I did it! I'm going to star as Blanche DuBois in the play, A Streetcar Named Desire!

Oh, diary, I wish you could have seen it.

I threw open the door to the bathroom stall so quickly that it crashed into the wall beside it and bounced back, nearly whacking me as I dashed out of the stall, you tucked into my armpit. I skidded out of the bathroom and down the hall, heels tapping against the linoleum like hail on a tin roof.

I reached the back of the stage just in time. They were looking for me but luckily they hadn't been looking for long.

"There was something," I began as I ran onto the stage, tossing you onto a table behind the curtains in exchange for my playbook. Good thing it was already bookmarked to the place where I needed to be. Cheeks still flushed red from the mad dash, I slowed my run then took a seat in the middle of the stage.

Breath slowing to a normal pace, I began again.

"There was something... different, about the boy. A nervousness." I tilted my chin up, clasping my hands in my lap. In the scant three seconds it took me to grab my playbook and emerge onto the stage I had already become Blanche DuBois; a soft southern drawl, a sort of beaten and battered look in my youthful eyes. "A softness. A tenderness that wasn't like a man's."

I feigned emotional turmoil as I unclasped my hands and began to wrench them together. Although I was alone on the stage, I looked up and to the left of me as if I were speaking to Blanche's suitor, Mitch.

As Blanche, I was describing my young husband's suicide to Mitch. I felt the weariness and pain in my voice begin to deepen the further along I got. I continued with the story, reading from the playbook every so often.

I stood.

"He'd stuck a..." I exhaled the words, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "A revolver, into his mouth and fired..." I touched my trembling fingertips to my lips. "So the back of his head was... was blown away."

My reading was done. Slowly, ever so slowly, I lowered the playbook so that it hung limp by my side. The drama director sat in the first row, his nose buried in a spiral notebook that he had balanced on his lap. He didn't say a thing. Rather, he let me stand up there on the stage, waiting for him to speak whenever he pleased. There was no sun peaking from the ceiling of the auditorium so how come I felt like it was beating down on me? Little beads of sweat had even formed on my forehead.

The silence stretched on into eternity. The only sound was the deep hum of the ancient air conditioning unit used to cool the entire school.

Finally he looked up and smiled at me.

"Very nice, Ms. Watson." He looked again at the notebook. I waited for a moment, thinking that maybe he would say something else but after that moment was up, he still had not said a word to me.

I felt the beads of sweat slide down the bridge of my nose. My lip quivered just once before I forced myself to smile down at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Palmer." I turned around to see a group of faces peering out from the wings of the stage. They all had their thumbs up to me. I smiled at them but their approval didn't mean much to me. I had wanted that part more than anything in the world and the only approval that would have made me happy with myself would have been Mr. Palmer's or maybe my mom's (but she wasn't there so that was totally nixed).

"We begin rehearsals after school on Monday." Mr. Palmer spoke again.

I whirled around, smile gone completely. My eyes were so wide that I thought they were going to pop right out of their sockets and roll around on the stage a bit.

"I'll be playing Blanche?" I asked in a voice weak with its incredulous undertones.

"Of course." The corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk. "I wouldn't have you playing her suitor, Mitch, now would I?"

I haven't been this happy in such a long time! I ran straight over to Aunt Anna's to tell her the great news. Her and Aunt May, having tea again, were about as excited as I was!

I rushed home to try and see Gayle before she left for dance practice but I must have just missed her.

Mom is going to be so proud of me. I can't wait to see the look on her face when I tell her the news.

I took a shower then got dressed to go out partying with some friends. Short black mini-skirt, leopard-print tank top, black high-heels and lots of makeup. Dressed to break hearts.

I had some time to kill so I went back downstairs and flipped on the TV. I was just going through the stations when the phone rang. I stopped my channel-surfing in order to reach over to the phone sitting on the end table beside the couch.

"Hey, Lisa!" I leaned back on the arm of the sofa, propping my feet up onto the opposite arm. Lisa told me about the party that we were going to tonight and I giggled with excitement, twirling the phone cord around my index finger.

"Okay, okay. That's all fine and dandy but I need a head count." Something on the TV caught my eye. A flash of red and blue, its colors reflecting easily onto the white walls in the darkness of the living room.

I threw my feet onto the floor and turned to the TV again. It was a wrestling match. Lisa continued chattering like a hyena on the phone but I didn't hear her. I was being sucked into the TV. Normally I didn't like wrestling but for the past two weeks, this program had been featuring a character named "Spider-Man" that had me addicted to the program. There was something about him that I couldn't get enough of. It was to the point where I was (and still am!) having dreams about him.

A bare-chested man ran around the ring. Spider-Man, chased close behind. The bare-chested man turned suddenly and grabbed Spider-Man, lifting him over his head and throwing him into the ropes of the ring. There was a unanimous "Ooooh" from the crowd as Spider-Man flopped onto his stomach after getting serious whiplash from being thrown into the ropes.

The bare-chested man came hurdling towards him. He lifted his foot into the air as if he were going to stomp on Spider-Man's head! I gasped in expectation of his foot connecting with Spider-Man's skull but in one quick, fluid-like motion, he had turned over onto his back, grabbed the bare-chested man's foot and as if he weighed no more than a child, tossed him into the crowd.

The fight was far from finished. The bare-chested man grunted as he pulled himself from the crowd and back into the ring. Spider-Man backed away. The bare-chested man threw himself at Spider-Man but fell forward onto his face as something jetted from Spider-Man's wrist and secured the other man's feet onto the floor of the mat.

Laughter erupted from the television.

Lisa was still chattering away about the guys that would be at the party. My focus was on the delicious man on the TV.

"Spider-Man has got Crusher stuck in his webs!" The announcer from the TV shouted.

Suddenly Lisa's talking ended. After a moment of silence she asked, "You're awfully quiet. Ya know, word around town is that you and Flash broke up. What happened? How come you ain't gonna tell your best friend, huh?"

I could feel my ruby lips moving into a terrible smirk as my eyes stayed glued onto the man they called Spider-Man. "Forget about Flash. I've got my eyes on someone better. Much, much better."

I got off the phone with Lisa after she promised to pick me up in an hour.

After the match ended with Crusher being knocked unconscious, the announcer had a one-on-one interview with the newcomer they had deemed Spider-Man. It was then that I vowed to meet him.

Charismatic, confident and heroic. It doesn't matter that he was covered head-to-toe in red and blue spandex, I knew I had to have him.

Just wait and see, diary. Once Mary Jane Watson finds something she wants, she ALWAYS gets it!