A Tantalizing Kiss

The bell rang, dismissing us from the last class of the day. I got up, walking out quickly. People lingered in the halls, waiting for their friends. I pushed past them, rudely.

Pulling my jacket on, I slammed my locker shut, taking the opposite route than normal. I
hadn’t told anyone of where I was going this afternoon. I tried to avoid any of my close friends
with hopes that they wouldn’t ask.

Once I was out of the junior wing, the hallways were fairly empty. A few kids walked
down to their clubs or sports, bags slung over their shoulders, chatting with friends. I walked
alone, looking for a familiar face to walk with.

I pulled my phone out, checking the time.

Ten after three.

I tucked it back into my pocket, opening the doors of the auditorium. I entered through
the back, closing the door as quietly as I could manage behind me. Yet, the sound still
reverberated off the walls obnoxiously loudly.

I could see a cluster of people sitting in the front five rows by the stage. Mrs. Stein stood
up front, her hands on her hips. As I walked closer, I noticed she was staring sternly at me.

I smiled gently, waving my fingers.

A moment of silence passed as I took a seat in the last row on the edge.

Mrs. Stein took a deep breath before continuing with her speech.

“I hope that is the last of the stragglers walking in.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. A
few kids chuckled, most unfazed by her comment. “As I was saying. For those of you that are
just joining, I am Mrs. Stein, the director of this play. This is Mr. Wilson, our costume
designer and set producer, and Ms. Hoffman, the back stage manager.”

Wilson and Hoffman waved when their names were announced, but remained silent.

“To be in this play is a full dedication. We need three hundred percent effort from you to
pull this off. This is one of the hardest plays to do at a high school.”

She paused for effect.

“Practice times are three to six every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

I raised my hand casually.

“Yes, Mr. Johnson?” Stein asked monotonously.

“And what if we can’t make all of those days every week?” I asked. While I had soccer
practice after school every day until seven, Coach would be angry with me if I only showed up
for two of the five practices. I hadn’t realized that we needed to attend so many rehearsals.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be joining.” Hoffman mumbled loud enough for everyone to
hear.

I frowned, opening my mouth to speak when Stein cut me off.

“You need a note written to miss any practices. Monday and Wednesday practices are
music and chorography for everyone. Friday is only needed if you get a role, which I’m
assuming you won’t be, Mr. Johnson.”

I raised an eyebrow as a few kids ‘ooh-ed’ at her comment. “You never know…”

“Are you going to audition for one?” She asked skeptically

I smirked, “When’s the date?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow morning before school starts, my room. We’ll be holding
auditions for actors and actresses there.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“We’ll see about that.” She muttered.

“Can we get back on track?” Wilson asked. A few kids nodded with agreement. Stein
nodded, clearing her throat once again.

“Right, right.” Stein said, “Anyways, I’m assuming you’re all interested in being onstage
in the actual performance?”

Nods in agreement.

“Wonderful. If you’re no, the stage crew meeting is this Thursday after school. Attend
then. Shall we get started with the singing auditions?”

A pale hand rose from the opposite side from where I sat. Stein’s eyes fell on the
person sitting there.

“Do we get any prep time before we audition?” a soft voice asked. It was unfamiliar to
my ears, probably an underclassman.

Stein glanced back at her two associates. They nodded their heads.

“Yes, we’ll hand out the paper and begin with warm-ups. We’ll break afterwards for a
fifteen minute practice and return for the auditions. Does that sound fair?”

A chorus of ‘yes’ sounded.

Hoffman and Wilson grabbed a stack of paper, passing them down the rows to kids.
They slowly made their way down to the last aisle, handing me a small stack. I took it,
looking at the gibberish written on it.

I couldn’t read music for shit.

I glanced at the people around me, looking for any other confused faces. Everyone
seemed to be buried in the song, analyzing the notes.

Shit.

~*~

“Mrs. Stein,” I said, walking the opposite of the crowd to reach her. She glanced up at
her name, eyes narrowing when they landed on me. The auditorium cleared out quickly as
the students went out to practice the song.

“What can I do for you, Mason?” She asked, exhausted.

“I uh...how do I sing this?”

“With words?”

“No I mean, how does the tune go? I can’t read music…”

“Aren’t you familiar with the song, ‘Masquerade’?” She frowned as I shook my head.
“You should’ve at least listened to the songs from the play before coming. That’s how most
of the students learn.”

“I didn’t know…”

She sighed, “Oh well. Now you do. Are you tenor or bass?”

“I don’t play an instrument…”

Stein frowned, taking a deep breath. “When you sing is your voice low or is it high?”

“Is there a middle option?”

“We’re just going to call you tenor for now.” She said, pointing to the upper notes on the
bottom staff. “These are what you’re singing.”

“I already told you I can’t read music.”

“Mr. Wilson?” She called behind me “Could you give us a demonstration of the music?
You’re tenor, aren’t you?”

He nodded, walking up to us. Grabbing the sheet out of my hand, he scanned the
words. “Give me the first few notes on the piano, would you?”

Stein walked over to the open piano next to the stage, tapping away at a few keys. I
begin to recognize the tune as Mr. Wilson broke out into song.

“Masquerade! Paper faces on parade. Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will
never find you.” Wilson sang. “Masquerade! Every face as a different shade. Look around,
there’s another mask behind you!”

I gulped, not realizing how unlikely it would be that I could get this.

“Do you understand?” Wilson asked.

I nodded hesitantly.

“Let’s here you sing.” Stein said, “Mr. Wilson, would you sing with the boy for the first
time so that he doesn’t get lost?”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Stein.” I sighed, “I’m going to go out there and practice for a little while.”

“Nonsense!” She huffed. “You came to me for help, Mason, and I’m going to help you.
Now, Mr. Wilson, could you sing the first line? Mason you repeat after him.”

Wilson nodded, dramatically clearing his throat. “Ready?”

I shook my head.

He ignored it.

“Masquerade! Paper faces on parade.” Wilson stopped abruptly, waiting for me.

I opened my mouth, my face flushing dramatically. Line me up for the winning shot in
the State Championship game and I’d be fine, but make me sing in public?

Maybe those five percentage points weren’t worth it.

“Masquerade. Paper faces on parade.” I sang quietly.

Wilson cupped a hand to his ear, “What was that? Did you just say something? Cause I
didn’t hear anything. Sing it again, louder this time.”

I took a deep breath. “Masquerade! Paper faces on parade.”

“It’s not ‘Mas-cur-ade’ it’s ‘mas-cure-ade’.” Wilson said. “Mas-cure-ade. Sing it again.”

On it went. Wilson continued to critic me on everything. If I wasn’t incorrectly pronouncing
something, I wasn’t singing loud enough, or emphasizing the right syllable. Stein and
Hoffman left shortly after the drilling began to work with some of the other students, leaving
me alone with Wilson. I quickly grew annoyed with the man, but forced myself to keep
working on it. I didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t sing it right.

Wilson finally let me go get a drink of water fifteen minutes later. “Hurry up. People are
going to start filing in soon. And remember, ‘mas-cure-aid’.”

I rolled my eyes discreetly before grabbing my wallet and heading out of the auditorium.
Most of the students were massed together in the lobby outside singing or talking. Stein and
Hoffman were working with several students at once, trying to help them with reading music.

Unfortunately, they understood more than I did.

I lightly jogged down the deserted hallway, stopping in front of the water bottle machine.
I opened my wallet, pulling out a dollar fifty.

“Do you think this is funny?” A soft, but angry voice hissed at me as I slipped the dollar
into the machine.

“This?” I asked with a smirk, “Well, I mean, I guess if you really try you can make it seem
almost like sticking a pe-”

“Not this!” She hissed “You coming here and mocking me!”

I pressed the button for the raspberry flavored water, “I’m mocking you?”

“Yes! You and I both know you don’t actually care for Phantom at all!”

“But how am I mocking you?” I laughed, grabbing the water. I opened it, taking a sip as
she spoke.

“You’re just—” She took a deep breath, calming herself “If you’re just doing this to try to
get me to go on a date with you, try again. This isn’t working.”

“Who says that’s my only motivation?” I smirked, “Maybe I’m secretly a huge nerd for
Phantom of whatever.”

She shot me a look, “This isn’t funny, Mason.”

“I never said it was.” I capped my water, holding it in my hand. “Come on, Doll face, we
need to head back before we miss auditions entirely.”

A look of worry crossed her face briefly. “Whatever you’re planning on doing isn’t going
to work.”

“You mean I’m not going to get my grade raised like Stein promised?”

We stopped in front of the door to the auditorium. Rose poked a finger on my chest
daringly. I smirked down at her, leaning against the door.

“I may not have known you long, but I know your kind. And don’t think for a minute that you
have a chance with me.” She whispered.

“Someone’s a little conceited.” I teased.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Maybe I’m not just in this for you…” I opened the door, “But you’re definitely a
bonus.” I winked as we walked inside.

She shot me a look, but kept quiet.

People were still filing in as we made our way there. Stein stood in the front of the room,
waiting patiently for people to sit down.

Rose moved into the second row. I followed, taking a seat next to her. She ignored me,
leaning to the other side of her chair.

“Alright, you’ve had plenty of time to prepare. Who would like to go first?” Stein asked.

One lone hand shot up behind me. I glanced back as she walked forward to center
stage, music in her hand.

“Alright, I want first and last name, grade, and tell me which line you will be singing.”
Stein instructed, a pad of paper before her.

“Olivia Murphy-Sweet, tenth grade, alto.” The girl stated boldly.

And so the auditions began.

There had to be over thirty people auditioning. As soon as the first girl sat down, with
applaud from most of the other students, the hands shot up. I was surprised to see how
eager people were to sing in front of others.

I sat back in my seat, listening for the most part. Rose shot her hand up every chance
she got, but was constantly ignored.

Finally, the daunting eyes of Mrs. Stein fell on Rose.

“Rose, up to the stage.”

Rose stood up quickly. I moved my legs back for her to get out, giving her a light tap of
the foot. She looked back, rolling her eyes.

I watched as she almost skipped to the front, clasping her hands together. I could see
she was nervous from the way she stood. I leaned back in my seat, a gentle smirk across
my lips.

“Rose Simpson, eleventh grade, Soprano.” She said.

Stein scribbled the information down before looking back up at Rose. She nodded
slightly, giving her the go.

Rose took a deep breath, eyes scanning over her audience. Her eyes moved over me
quickly, not even a second glance. I raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Could I get the first few notes?” She asked nervously.

She wasn’t the first to do that, nor would she be the last. Stein tapped the notes out on
the piano to the beat of the song.

Rose opened her mouth, closing her eyes, “Masquerade! Paper faces on parade.
Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you! Masquerade! Every face has a
different shade. Look around, there’s another mask behind you!”

Her eyes opened for a moment, scanning the crowd again, “Flash of mauve, splash of
puce. Fool and King, ghoul and goose. Green and black, Queen and Priest, Trace of rogue
face the beasts.”

“Thank you, Rose.” Stein said, writing a few things down.

Rose smiled gently before walking back down the asile.

“Next?” Stein called.

I raised my hand.

“Let’s go Mr. Johnson.”

I stood up, walking out of the seats. Rose waited at the other end to go back in. As I
passed her, I shoved my water bottle into her head.

“We’ll see how serious I am about this, won’t we?” I whispered in her ear.