So, I'm aware the dates are off. I'll catch up tomorrow. Right now I need to hurry up and order stuff online so that it comes in in time for Christmas. Love you all!
December 3, 2012
Harry was lying on his side on the stage of the school auditorium, waiting impatiently for the bell that signaled the end of the school day to end. He just wanted to get back to his dorm and study, and get a head start on his homework. Lord knows he needed it.
He looked around at his group of friends, and smiled at what he found. Victor and Allen were standing closest to the long red curtain, and were arguing about whether or not ballet counted as a sport. Aliese and Tyler were comparing their hair, and Erica was down in the orchestra pit talking with Mr. Calloway, the drama director. Well, Erica didn’t really count as a friend exactly, but she was there, nonetheless.
Harry was beginning to grow bored out of his mind, and at that point would be grateful for any kind of distraction. The fact that he had sat and listened to lectures for the previous six hours were not helping. He could almost hear his homework calling him from his satchel that was sitting in the front row of the audience.
“Harry, will you tell Victor that ballet is not a sport, it is an art?” Allen glared at Victor and flicked his dark brown hair out of his eyes. “He’s clearly delusional.”
“I am not!” Victor said in defense. “All I’m saying is that if it requires an excess extertion of energy and can be performed with more than one person it’s a sport!”
“So you’re saying drama is a sport?” Allen raised his eyebrows questioningly and crossed his overly muscular arms over his chest.
Victor sent him an annoyed look. “Because we all exert so much energy in this class.” He looked at Harry on the ground as if to prove a point.
Harry rolled his eyes at his friends. He loved them to death, but sometimes they reminded him of little siblings, arguing over the stupidest things. They didn’t even take ballet!
“Harry!” Erica called at him in an annoyingly high pitched voice. “Can you go get my purse out from backstage?”
Harry snorted. “Why can’t you get it yourself?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Because I’m a lady. And ladies shouldn’t have to climb out of the pit in a dress.” She tugged on the edge of her dress for emphasis. “It’s on the table in the prop room.”
He rolled his eyes but got up anyways. He dusted off the back of his trousers before walking around the curtains in the wings of the stage and heading towards the prop room. He didn’t know where the light switch was once he had opened up the large set of double doors, so he just walked in and felt his way around for the round table that was somewhere to his right.
Suddenly, the door slammed closed behind him and a large hand clamped over his mouth, leaving him in pitch darkness. He tried to scream, but the mouth remained over his mouth. He was being pulled under by his memories again, and he struggled to be released from the grasp.
“Sh! Calm down will ya?” a voice laden with an Irish accent whispered roughly. Harry froze. “That’s better. Now if I let you go will you promise not to scream?”
