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The bright New England foliage fell like large, fluttery raindrops as I coasted down the road that lead to the elementary school, and the gravel crunched beneath my bike tires as I rounded the corners. I sighed. Today had been just another day at school for me. Another day with the rest of the country-grown kids who lived in the hills of this straight-laced town. Another day in which I said hello to everyone I saw, calling them by name. Just another normal day with normal events. Except for the fact that this was the day that the cast list for Bakersfield Elementary School's production of "Oliver Twist" had been posted. Big deal. I had auditioned, but mainly because Cathy, a good friend of mine, had no one to audition with, and had whined so much, I did it to make her shut up. It was the most dull and uneventful process I had been through since my last doctor's checkup. The audition process consisted of the 2 directors (who actually were the school's music teacher and the secretary) saying the following: "Read these lines." "Okay, now read these ones." "Try that again, please." "Right, now sing this... And this." Then they muttered for a bit amongst themselves, and then said, "okay, then, thanks for auditioning!" Cathy had obsessed and worked herself into such a frenzy by the end of the day that the list was going to be posted. She was worried about if she was going to be cast or not. Her incessant fidgeting and one-way conversation irritated me so much, I had headed home early, not even stopping to see if I was in the play or not. I know that it's bad when you avoid friends, but I think maybe I was just in a bad mood or something. I now found myself riding back to school, compelled to see if I had actually gotten a part. As I walked into the school, I saw a small group of kids loitering around a piece of paper by the door that led to the gymnasium. This was it. I stepped toward it, muttering "excuse me to a pair of burly eighth-grade girls who looked quite disgusted. I scanned down the list, looking for my name, and I was surprised when I found it to be matched up with the role of Widow Corney. I then saw the short message at the bottom of the paper. "The first rehearsal will be in the gym. Please bring a water bottle and a pencil! See you there!" In the weeks that followed, I learned that this role was quite demanding, and that a few of the other students were resentful because I was playing a character that, "clearly should be played by an older and more experienced actor," as one of the prima donnas from the seventh grade put it. I didn't care, but it was a bit unnerving to only be in sixth grade and be acting with eighth graders who had been practically born onstage. I tried hard to do well though, mainly because the directors had so much faith in me. One of them had told me that she had put me in the role of Widow Corney because she "knew I could handle it." I just blinked at her and went on memorizing lines. I worked tirelessly for the whole school year, singing, rehearsing, and even working with the set crew whenever I had a chance. After school, I would quietly walk into the gymnasium, the platforms and tables still set up from the last rehearsal. Sometimes I would practice singing, do my homework, or recite lines. Eventually, I came to enjoy coming to rehearsal, and I would frequently show up early, just so I could get away from home. The gymnasium of the elementary school became my place to hang out, even if I wasn't in rehearsal. It was a place that I could be anyone, or do anything. Or if I wanted to, I could just do nothing. Being in "Oliver Twist" was fun, for the most part, but as is with any other endeavor, it was not without it's snags. The script called for me to hit Oliver with a wooden spoon, yell at the other children, and kiss Mr. Bumble. As soon as I learned of this, I had to find out who was playing those other roles. After all, I wasn't too keen on hitting anyone, yelling didn't come naturally to me, and kissing was absolutely not happening. David Burns, a pudgy fifth grader with permanently squinted eyes and a splash of freckles on his face, was playing Oliver. He had acted in a few other plays, and he was most often seen strutting around, talking to the other "seasoned actors" like he was the king of some large country who was debating when to have his next extravagant party. In the role of Mr. Bumble was Lucas Willey, an eighth grader who was the son of a preacher. He was a good six inches taller than me, and when he was in costume (which was stuffed to make his character look large and add to his pompousness) he was a good six inches wider than me. Lucas always smiled when he wasn't onstage; a smile that added to his handsome, country-boy look. Lucas and I had talked to our directors, who had decided that there would not be an actual kiss onstage, but that we would have to get very close and Lucas would make a loud, comical kiss noise. That was decent. I learned how to project my voice so that it seemed like I was yelling, but it took half the actual energy. And I soon grew tired of David flouncing around, saying things like, "I'm Oliver Twist! I'm the main character! I'm going to et most of the applause!" So, eventually, hitting him became second nature, and I even enjoyed it. As the autumn foliage fell and was covered by a blanket of icy-white snow, which was finally melting by the time April rolled around, we practiced three times a week. But the month of April was entirely taken up by rehearsals, singing, finishing touches, costuming, and words of would-be inspiration from our directors. Opening night. I was dressed in a skirt, blouse, and apron. I sat in the small music room just offstage, trying to remember all of my cues, lines, and expressions. All right, I was supposed to tilt my head up to the lights, project my voice, and if I dropped a line, improvise within my character... I had learned a phenomenal amount of things within a only a few months, and I hoped I wouldn't forget anything. I tried not to touch my face as I went through lines, because the makeup that was caked on my face seemed to smudge quite easily. The age lines that were drawn in to make me appear older were just slightly smudged already. My train of thought stopped momentarily as a door opened, and in walked Lucas, dressed in his costume also. Smiling, he walked over to me and held out a white carnation. "Um, thanks," I stammered as I grasped the flower, "you too." He turned around and left. I placed the carnation nearby my backpack, and wondered why I anyone would wish me to break a leg. A few minutes later, calm and cool, I walked toward the stage, entering from the main door. I walked halfway across the gymnasium, which had been completely rearranged and decorated in black for this play. I walked up the three steps to the stage. I turned to face the audience. And I saw them. The whole town, sitting there, watching me. I swear a sweat drop rolled down my jaw line, and all of the lines that I had worked so hard to remember flew right out the window. I didn't know what to say. It was if the weight of the world had been placed squarely on my head. In that split second that I lost all of my composure, just as fast, I regained it. I shook it off. The lines came flooding back, and I resumed my character. I threw my whole heart and soul into my performance. Adrenaline was rushing through my blood, and I acted better than I had ever had in rehearsal. I even earned quite a few laughs for the "kiss" with Mr. Bumble. The curtain call came, and as I stood onstage with the rest of the cast, I smiled on the inside as well as on the outside, and I felt as though I would burst with the feelings that were bouncing around in my head. I was happier than I had ever been in my whole life (at least that I could remember). When I was ten years old, I fell in love with Theatre. Bibliography: Word Count: 1553
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