Stage Doors

Who He Is/Was

The day I met Eric, I was a lowly 11 year old, with baby fat and a taste for pink and glitter. Eric was a name- brand boy, with his social status plastered on his t-shirts and khakis. If you'd asked me then, I would have said he was admirable. He had pretty features and he was presentable, which was more than some of the boys in my class could say. Not to mention he could sing and dance and act like a dream. We hit it off almost right away, and I introduced him to Evan.
This was literally my biggest regret ever.
We were best friends throughout 6th and 7th grade. Me, him, and Evan. But slowly I realized things were changing. Evan started wearing the name brand shirts, instead of the plain cotton ones he used to. He started to wear his hair differently, carry himself more confidently. It was all great and nice for him, but for me, it would turn out to be actual hell.
Ms. D does roll call. She calls Eric's name. He calls back, "Present."
How obnoxious.
I sit in my seat, mildly fuming, the way I always am when I am aware of his presence. The feeling will go away soon enough. At the moment I am content with my rage. Ms. D marks me present without acknowledging that I am, in fact, present, and soon, she finally calls Maggie Vera's name, who raises her hand but does not speak, as per usual.
Before we start our usual read through of whatever script Ms. D makes us read, she makes an announcement.
Here we go. This is it.
"Hello, kids, as you may or may not know, the school musical's auditions are in 3 days. Please remember to sign up," she looks directly at me when she says this, "And pick up a script."
I beam. This is the time of year I live for. The school musical. Yes there's a play, too, but usually it's kind of boring with cheesy dialogue and childish humor. The musical, though sometimes a ridiculously obscure thing, is almost always fun. That auditorium on the bottom floor of the building has been my home for as long as I can remember.
Eric abandoned school theatre after the fiasco of 9th grade. He got a minor role, no speaking part, and I got the female lead.
We've barely spoken since. But this isn't why we've got our little mess. That has to do solely with Evan Smith.
So yes, Evan got slightly more popular but so did I, and so did Eric. It wasn't that. It wasn't at all that Evan took more notice in his appearance. It wasn't how he became more suave, I suppose would be the word. No, it wasn't even that he started getting involved with more girls.
Not at all.
Oh, no, Sirree. It was the way I felt about this entire thing.
Eric took my best friend and turned him into this gorgeous, smooth talking, gigantic sweetheart, who was also my best friend.
My best friend, that. I. fell. in. love. with.
Oh yes, I fell in love with Evan.
He was beautiful and everything I wanted. The guy listened to me, he gave me hugs, he knew my family. I was a silly middle schooler, you know? I thought he was the one! I thought I would never love another person ever.
Granted, you haven't loved another person since, Rose.
Shut up, brain.
So I rage in my mind at the sight of Eric Dean, nonfictional Mr. Perfect.
It took longer than expected for him to find out about my little crush, but in 9th grade, he noticed. By the end of September, it had spread throughout the school that the weird theatre girl had a crush on her best friend of 6 years. And Evan didn't respond well. We haven't spoken since that day, when I finally admitted my feelings and he responded with "Sorry, I can't talk right now."
Mrs. D goes on about her day, the play, acting strategies, and I cling to her every word, doing all I can, as usual, to block out Eric.
After class, I pick up my script, and I the audition information. I barely notice that he's still in the classroom when I rush out to make it on time for my next class.