You Act Like It
Chapter One: Chelsie
“So I got the role.”
I was sitting on my bed cross-legged, holding my cell phone in one hand and twirling a lock of my brown hair with my index finger. I was trying to keep my cool, but Victoria could tell how excited I was.
“THE role?”
“Yup.” The part to which she was referring was Cinderella in the musical. The South Shore Musical Theater ten miles from my house had held auditions all day Saturday for all of the roles and had assured us they would make phone calls to those who were cast by the following weekend. But the phone call never came. I’d been a little surprised seeing as I’d acting for the theater before and I hadn’t been chosen, but Sunday night the director for the production had called, apologizing for the lateness, and assuring me that I had, in fact, been picked for the title role.
South Shore was a semi-big deal where I lived. It was a step above community theater and a couple of steps below Broadway. Actors and actresses came from several towns over to audition and participate. It was the best theater in the state. The year before, I had been selected for the chorus of High School Musical. I hadn’t been thrilled with the choice to do that musical in particular, but afterwards, I was every kid in town’s hero. And it had turned out to be a huge money maker.
This year, there were forty-five Cinderella’s alone, and I was by far one of the youngest and smallest there, being only seventeen. Apparently it had ended up working in my advantage, since the director had told me over the phone that they’d decided a young Cinderella and Prince would ‘add to the effect’, whatever that meant.
“So… who’s the lucky Prince?” Victoria pried.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How can you not know?” she whined.
“There were tons of other people at the auditions and he wouldn’t have even been there at the same time as me. I auditioned later in the day.”
She sighed and we gossiped a bit more before hanging up. I flung the phone onto my pillow and got of my perch to pick out my outfit for the next day. Even though clothes were always important to me, tomorrow it was even more so. My first rehearsal was at three o’clock the next day after school, and I wanted to look good, of course. Make a good first impression and everything.
I chose a pair of skinny jeans, my black ballet flats, a plain blue trimmed tee shirt, and my gray checked hem coat. When that was ready, I changed into a set of flannel pajama pants and a tee shirt, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed. I needed my beauty sleep.
********
I woke up a little earlier than necessary the next morning so that I could be sure I would be able to have time to get ready. I took a shower and put on mascara and ate breakfast (not simultaneously, obviously) while I waited for my hair to air dry. I straightened it, shoved all my books from the weekend’s homework into my bag, and by 7:15 I was saying goodbye to my mom and grabbing my keys from the hook by the door, headed for my car.
My car had been a present from my parent’s for my seventeenth birthday. It was a black 2007 Nissan Maxima, and although it wasn’t as fancy as some of the cars people at my school drove, it was my car, it represented my freedom, and so I loved it.
I pulled into the parking lot at 7:30, half an hour before school was scheduled to start. I guess I had planned my time a little too wisely. The student lot had very few cars in it, and I sat in the Nissan, running the heat, and waiting until I was able to step out and brave the cold.
It was November, and I was over two months into my senior year. If I lived in Florida like my Aunt Josephine, it would have been at least fifty at the very least. But, despite my protests, my family lived in the complete opposite direction, where it was a whopping twenty-eight degrees. I sighed, switched off the engine, pulled the keys from the ignition, and stepped out of my car, snatching my backpack off the passenger side seat.
“Chelsie!” I rolled my eyes and turned around, closing the car door behind me. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“It’s you.” I faced Chris, a guy who I had once thought I might have been in love with. We’d dated for nine months, including over the summer before senior year, even though he’d been in California visiting family for the better part of the vacation. We kept in touch until I happened to log onto Facebook and saw photos of ‘all the fun he was having in California’. Including him with another girl giving him more than a peck on the cheek. He claimed to have still had feelings for me, but I refused to accept that and ended it. He’d been trying to win me back every since, and I was having none of it.
“Chelsie!” he called again. I looked at him.
“Oh, it’s you.” I started walking briskly towards the building.
“How was your weekend?” he asked, following behind without fail. If a guy could resemble a golden retriever, this was the perfect example.
“Fine, like you care,” I retorted. He grabbed my hand when I was ten steps from the main entrance.
“Chelsie, can’t you at least talk to me? We were so great together, you know, why can’t we get along?” he whined. I pulled my hand from his strong grasp.
“We aren’t great together. Great together means you love me and I love you and I don’t think either of those things are true right now. Just because we’re both popular doesn’t mean that we belong together.” It was true. We were both popular. He was the star lacrosse captain, and if I had been anymore popular, I would have been a cheerleader, although obviously my time was being taken up by the theater.
“But we do belong together,” he urged.
“That’s not what you were thinking this summer, was it?” he winced. I’d hit him where it hurts.
“That wasn’t anything, okay? Just forget it, please. I only did that because I missed you.”
“Well maybe you need to find a new way to deal with nostalgia, because that’s not cutting it.” I sighed. “We’ve had this conversation at least once a week for the past two months. It’s not going to happen, Chris. And I’m going to be late, so if you’ll excuse me…” I hurried up the steps and through the double doors.
Minutes later I was at my locker, retrieving my books for my first class of the day, when Victoria waltzed over and sided up to the locker next to mine.
“Hey, girl, hey!” she said in a sing-song voice. I rolled my eyes. It was a bad habit she had picked up from her fellow cheerleaders, and I was determined not to pick it up from her.
“Hey,” I said back. “How goes it?”
“Fabulous! Et toi?” Probably the only words of French she knew. “Oh, and heard from Shannon that you and Chris were holding hands this morning in the parking lot. Are you together again?”
I groaned. My school had a population of seven hundred, but word spread fast. By lunch time, half of the high school would think Chris and I were an item again.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she said. “Come on, I’ll walk with you to your first period.”
********
By the end of the day, seven or eight people had asked me if Chris and I were back together, plus my French teacher, who was always up to date on the latest school rumors and gossip. Madame was only in her mid-twenties, and sometimes she made me think she wished she were in high school again the way she interacted with the students.
When the final bell rang at 2:15, I dashed to my locker to collect my books. I was out of the school in record time and pulled out of the parking lot before the buses did. I was lucky to have a car.
South Shore was a good twenty-five minutes from my house, and I made good time, getting there with fifteen minutes to spare. I took a deep breath before entering and walked through the front doors. The lobby was empty and silent. I loved the smooth red carpet and the creamy white pillars reaching up to the ceiling. It gave the place an elegant and professional look, which really, it was.
There were entrances to the theater itself to the left and right of the lobby, but instead, I climbed a spiral staircase to the where the balcony seating was. Behind the seats was an inconspicuous door which lead to what might have appeared to be a conference room. In reality, it was the room used here for read-throughs and other things of that sort.
There were already seven or eight people in the room sitting around the table and I smiled at them as I walked in. I didn’t recognize any of them and they were all over twenty at least. One lady got up and came over and shook my hand. I recognized her as the director who had watched me audition. She wasn’t the same woman who had directed the only other show I’d been in here, but I knew that there were tons of different directors for many different shows, and several shows would rehearse simultaneously.
“Hi, Chelsie. I’m Amanda Alden, the director. I’m glad you’re here.”
I smiled again. “Me too.”
She handed me a script of the play and told me to take a seat where my name tag was. I walked around the table until I found my name. Chelsie Holland: Cinderella. I sat down and started to flip through my script as other actors trickled in for the read through. Five minutes before three, a lady, maybe in her early forties sat down to my left. She glanced at the name tag in front of me.
“Hi, I’m Celine. And you’re Cinderella?”
“Yes. I’m Chelsie. What role are you playing?” I asked her. She had red hair, and pale, freckle-less skin, but was definitely old enough to have children.
“The fairy godmother at your surface.” She smiled at me, and I realized I was looking forward to getting to know her.
I turned to the seat at my right, the only one at the table unoccupied, and read the name tag. Andrew Finn: Prince Charming. I didn’t recognize the name, and I continued to look through my script while I waited to begin. At three o’clock on the dot, someone opened the door and then slid into the seat next to me. Not wanted to appear too curious, I didn’t look up right away, but when Amanda clapped her hands and announced we’d be starting, I took a quick peak to my right to catch a glimpse of Prince Charming.
I was sitting on my bed cross-legged, holding my cell phone in one hand and twirling a lock of my brown hair with my index finger. I was trying to keep my cool, but Victoria could tell how excited I was.
“THE role?”
“Yup.” The part to which she was referring was Cinderella in the musical. The South Shore Musical Theater ten miles from my house had held auditions all day Saturday for all of the roles and had assured us they would make phone calls to those who were cast by the following weekend. But the phone call never came. I’d been a little surprised seeing as I’d acting for the theater before and I hadn’t been chosen, but Sunday night the director for the production had called, apologizing for the lateness, and assuring me that I had, in fact, been picked for the title role.
South Shore was a semi-big deal where I lived. It was a step above community theater and a couple of steps below Broadway. Actors and actresses came from several towns over to audition and participate. It was the best theater in the state. The year before, I had been selected for the chorus of High School Musical. I hadn’t been thrilled with the choice to do that musical in particular, but afterwards, I was every kid in town’s hero. And it had turned out to be a huge money maker.
This year, there were forty-five Cinderella’s alone, and I was by far one of the youngest and smallest there, being only seventeen. Apparently it had ended up working in my advantage, since the director had told me over the phone that they’d decided a young Cinderella and Prince would ‘add to the effect’, whatever that meant.
“So… who’s the lucky Prince?” Victoria pried.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? How can you not know?” she whined.
“There were tons of other people at the auditions and he wouldn’t have even been there at the same time as me. I auditioned later in the day.”
She sighed and we gossiped a bit more before hanging up. I flung the phone onto my pillow and got of my perch to pick out my outfit for the next day. Even though clothes were always important to me, tomorrow it was even more so. My first rehearsal was at three o’clock the next day after school, and I wanted to look good, of course. Make a good first impression and everything.
I chose a pair of skinny jeans, my black ballet flats, a plain blue trimmed tee shirt, and my gray checked hem coat. When that was ready, I changed into a set of flannel pajama pants and a tee shirt, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed. I needed my beauty sleep.
********
I woke up a little earlier than necessary the next morning so that I could be sure I would be able to have time to get ready. I took a shower and put on mascara and ate breakfast (not simultaneously, obviously) while I waited for my hair to air dry. I straightened it, shoved all my books from the weekend’s homework into my bag, and by 7:15 I was saying goodbye to my mom and grabbing my keys from the hook by the door, headed for my car.
My car had been a present from my parent’s for my seventeenth birthday. It was a black 2007 Nissan Maxima, and although it wasn’t as fancy as some of the cars people at my school drove, it was my car, it represented my freedom, and so I loved it.
I pulled into the parking lot at 7:30, half an hour before school was scheduled to start. I guess I had planned my time a little too wisely. The student lot had very few cars in it, and I sat in the Nissan, running the heat, and waiting until I was able to step out and brave the cold.
It was November, and I was over two months into my senior year. If I lived in Florida like my Aunt Josephine, it would have been at least fifty at the very least. But, despite my protests, my family lived in the complete opposite direction, where it was a whopping twenty-eight degrees. I sighed, switched off the engine, pulled the keys from the ignition, and stepped out of my car, snatching my backpack off the passenger side seat.
“Chelsie!” I rolled my eyes and turned around, closing the car door behind me. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“It’s you.” I faced Chris, a guy who I had once thought I might have been in love with. We’d dated for nine months, including over the summer before senior year, even though he’d been in California visiting family for the better part of the vacation. We kept in touch until I happened to log onto Facebook and saw photos of ‘all the fun he was having in California’. Including him with another girl giving him more than a peck on the cheek. He claimed to have still had feelings for me, but I refused to accept that and ended it. He’d been trying to win me back every since, and I was having none of it.
“Chelsie!” he called again. I looked at him.
“Oh, it’s you.” I started walking briskly towards the building.
“How was your weekend?” he asked, following behind without fail. If a guy could resemble a golden retriever, this was the perfect example.
“Fine, like you care,” I retorted. He grabbed my hand when I was ten steps from the main entrance.
“Chelsie, can’t you at least talk to me? We were so great together, you know, why can’t we get along?” he whined. I pulled my hand from his strong grasp.
“We aren’t great together. Great together means you love me and I love you and I don’t think either of those things are true right now. Just because we’re both popular doesn’t mean that we belong together.” It was true. We were both popular. He was the star lacrosse captain, and if I had been anymore popular, I would have been a cheerleader, although obviously my time was being taken up by the theater.
“But we do belong together,” he urged.
“That’s not what you were thinking this summer, was it?” he winced. I’d hit him where it hurts.
“That wasn’t anything, okay? Just forget it, please. I only did that because I missed you.”
“Well maybe you need to find a new way to deal with nostalgia, because that’s not cutting it.” I sighed. “We’ve had this conversation at least once a week for the past two months. It’s not going to happen, Chris. And I’m going to be late, so if you’ll excuse me…” I hurried up the steps and through the double doors.
Minutes later I was at my locker, retrieving my books for my first class of the day, when Victoria waltzed over and sided up to the locker next to mine.
“Hey, girl, hey!” she said in a sing-song voice. I rolled my eyes. It was a bad habit she had picked up from her fellow cheerleaders, and I was determined not to pick it up from her.
“Hey,” I said back. “How goes it?”
“Fabulous! Et toi?” Probably the only words of French she knew. “Oh, and heard from Shannon that you and Chris were holding hands this morning in the parking lot. Are you together again?”
I groaned. My school had a population of seven hundred, but word spread fast. By lunch time, half of the high school would think Chris and I were an item again.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she said. “Come on, I’ll walk with you to your first period.”
********
By the end of the day, seven or eight people had asked me if Chris and I were back together, plus my French teacher, who was always up to date on the latest school rumors and gossip. Madame was only in her mid-twenties, and sometimes she made me think she wished she were in high school again the way she interacted with the students.
When the final bell rang at 2:15, I dashed to my locker to collect my books. I was out of the school in record time and pulled out of the parking lot before the buses did. I was lucky to have a car.
South Shore was a good twenty-five minutes from my house, and I made good time, getting there with fifteen minutes to spare. I took a deep breath before entering and walked through the front doors. The lobby was empty and silent. I loved the smooth red carpet and the creamy white pillars reaching up to the ceiling. It gave the place an elegant and professional look, which really, it was.
There were entrances to the theater itself to the left and right of the lobby, but instead, I climbed a spiral staircase to the where the balcony seating was. Behind the seats was an inconspicuous door which lead to what might have appeared to be a conference room. In reality, it was the room used here for read-throughs and other things of that sort.
There were already seven or eight people in the room sitting around the table and I smiled at them as I walked in. I didn’t recognize any of them and they were all over twenty at least. One lady got up and came over and shook my hand. I recognized her as the director who had watched me audition. She wasn’t the same woman who had directed the only other show I’d been in here, but I knew that there were tons of different directors for many different shows, and several shows would rehearse simultaneously.
“Hi, Chelsie. I’m Amanda Alden, the director. I’m glad you’re here.”
I smiled again. “Me too.”
She handed me a script of the play and told me to take a seat where my name tag was. I walked around the table until I found my name. Chelsie Holland: Cinderella. I sat down and started to flip through my script as other actors trickled in for the read through. Five minutes before three, a lady, maybe in her early forties sat down to my left. She glanced at the name tag in front of me.
“Hi, I’m Celine. And you’re Cinderella?”
“Yes. I’m Chelsie. What role are you playing?” I asked her. She had red hair, and pale, freckle-less skin, but was definitely old enough to have children.
“The fairy godmother at your surface.” She smiled at me, and I realized I was looking forward to getting to know her.
I turned to the seat at my right, the only one at the table unoccupied, and read the name tag. Andrew Finn: Prince Charming. I didn’t recognize the name, and I continued to look through my script while I waited to begin. At three o’clock on the dot, someone opened the door and then slid into the seat next to me. Not wanted to appear too curious, I didn’t look up right away, but when Amanda clapped her hands and announced we’d be starting, I took a quick peak to my right to catch a glimpse of Prince Charming.