On the edge of everything

Part 2

The cast list is posted on the wall where I signed up for auditions. I have fourth block in the English classroom directly to the left of the theater bulletin board, and it takes all of my will not to check it periodically throughout the class. Ms. Langley would know what I am doing if I ask to leave the class more than once, so I know I have to reserve it for the last ten minutes of the day. Mrs. Laurel wouldn't post it until close to 3-- she has a reputation for doing everything at the last minute. I can just see her and Ms. Blakeley sitting in the office in the corner of the choir room, looking at a list of characters on one screen and a list of auditionees on another. The desire to know is eating me up inside.

At 2:45 I stand up unsuspiciously from where I had been reading Let the Great World Spin and I walk towards the sign-out sheet in the corner of the room. Ms. Langley glances up from her laptop, a grin on her face because she knows that I auditioned, but she doesn't utter a word. I silently exit the room, and walk towards the water fountain, stubbornly not looking to my left. After a long sip of cool, delicious Portland water, I let my eyes drift towards the board, eager to search for Samantha and Rose and Loise on the list.

The board is empty.

Okay, plan B. I walk into the bathroom, though I have no need to. I look in the mirror, wipe some mascara from beneath my eyes and put some water on my face and neck. I look at my phone: 2:48. I know it has to be posted by now-- 2:50 at the very latest. My brain is scrambled and my stomach aches. I guess that there is the slightest bit of me that wants more than just a chorus role. It's a beautiful prospect—thinking about being a lead—but I know that that part of me that wants it doesn't want the responsibility and the time and, god forbid, the singing, alone, in front of hundreds of people. As I slowly open the bathroom door, I spot a piece of paper on the otherwise empty board.

It's the list. My mediocre eyesight forces me to approach it to identify the names and roles. My eyes start at the bottom, where I see the word "Chorus". Several freshmen are there, along with a smattering of sophomores and juniors. I don't see any senior names — not even my own. My heart starts to race.

The very top of the list is slightly above my line of sight. I peer upwards and, beneath the words "Little Women: The Musical", I see the role of Josephine March.

Well, there she is in the left column. My eyes shift to the right to see the lucky person chosen to embody this character for the next few months: Josephine March.... Mila Donau.

That slightest bit of me that longed to get a large role now takes me over. My stomach flutters, more with nervousness and fear or with excitement and pride, I don't know.

Josephine March.... Mila Donau. I am not just going to be a leading character, I'm going to be the lead.

I return to the classroom only moments before the bell rings. I cannot decide if I am more queasy or exuberant.

Ms. Langley looks up at me and raises her eyebrows inquisitively. I give her two thumbs up, though they are trembling slightly. I sit back down and stare at the book in front of me, having neither an ounce of desire to open it and resume reading the text nor the ability to focus enough to do so.

Sara takes out one of her earbuds and kicks me under the table. I look up and she whispers, "Who are you?" My smile is so large that it's hard to keep in my mouth. I now understand why people cry when they are happy; smiling is sometimes not enough.

"I'm Jo." I can tell from how her face lights up that Sara remembers the few times I forced her and Jessie to watch the movie when we were younger. A pang comes from my wrist. I hold it gently under the desk but continue to smile wide.