Journal-#2 Choking Puffins

Journal #2

Start:

In seventh grade I dared try out for my first high school play. I had been in smaller, community productions for kids, but nothing as serious and “playing with the big kids”. Usually when I try out for a play I am relaxed, and fueled by a burst of hyper energy, but things were different this time. For starters, I was shaking, badly. A huge flock of butterflies had decided to also throw a party in my stomach. Worst of all, it was as open audition, everyone in the same room taking turns going. I would have to perform in front of teenagers almost five years older than me. I sat next time my sister and worried. The play was “The Crucible” and I never having seen the play picked a simple poem to recite: “There once was a Puffin”. One by one, everyone gaze there auditions until it was finally my turn. I got up there, got about a third of the way into the poem, and froze. I had never choked before. I could feel my face flushing, my mind completely blank. My sister sat in the audience mouthing the next line to me, but I couldn’t understand. I stopped and went back to my seat, nearly in tears. The rest of the people went, the whole time I was re-reciting the poem in my head. Finally it was the final call for auditions and I asked to get back up and do it again. By some miracle I not only got through the entire poem, but I nailed it. I knew it was perfect, but wished I could have done so the first time. Feeling good that I at least did it right in the end, I went home and waited for the cast list. The next week I heard the news, I got in. I was an extra, but I had actually made it into a high school play.


Scene:
It was coming back again, that boiling in her stomach that worked up into her throat. Her mouth was filling with spit, ready to slide out a bucket of vomit. She was glad she had no food in her to lose; she had been too nervous all day to eat.

Abby sat in one of the worn padded chair in the auditorium. She and a group of about thirty teenagers, all bigger than her, all sat clustered in the center seats.

“I will call your name. When I do come up, just say your name and what you’ll be reciting. Relax and take your time.” Mr. Green said, pushing up his glasses.

Abby tried to concentrate of his smile. With was warm and wrinkled. He didn’t look like the type of teacher to be annoyed by a first time audition.
The coil in her stomach only tightened.

“You’re going to be fine,” Dale, her brother whispered, squeezing her arm tight.

His smile was relaxed. Abby crinkled her nose.

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled.

Mr. Green leaped off the stage and took his place in the audience, a clipboard in his lap.

“Dale? You want to go first? Show the new kids how it’s done?”

Dale stood up. “Sure!”

Everyone one clapped as Dale took the stage.

“I will be doing a monologue from Blithe Spirit,” he said.

Abby’s ears went dead. She only absorbed Dale moving his arms about as he yelled to his character’s dead wives. She looked around; everyone was on the verge of cheering, hands ready to burst into applause. Dale ended in center stage. Abby’s knew her ears were working again as the sound of everyone cheering rumbled in her head.

Dale pranced back to his seat and gave her arm a squeezed.

“Nice,” she whispered.

“Thanks, sis,” he smiled, wide and full of teeth.

“Great job Dale!” Mr. Green said, trying to quiet down the final claps. “Who’s next?” He looked around. “Dale, is that your little sister?”

Dale put his arm around Abby. “Yep! She’s better at this than me!”

“I’d love to see that,” Mr. Green said. “Would you like to go next?”

Everyone’s eyes went to Abby. She could feel there corneas burning her skin. She looked to Dale, desperate to go home, but he just grinned. She stood up and went to the stage.

“No way out now,” she said under her breath.

She stood in center stage doing everything possible to look past everyone. “Um, hi. I’m Abby Hughes and I’m going to be reciting the poem “There once was a Puffin.”

A few snickers rocked through the room. Dale was shooting a look around.

Abby opened her mouth and let the first lines out. They were still fresh; she had only learned this poem the night before, Dale’s voice still warm in her mind.

“Come on Abby! You have to try out,” he nudged her shoulder, “Mr. Green will be really impressed if a seventh grader tries out for the high school play. At least you’ll make a good impression!”

“Fine.” Abby huffed in defeat.

She quickly set her mind back to the poem. She was on the fifth line and counting.

“He ate little fishes that were most delicious…” She paused. “He ate little fishes that were most delicious…” She repeated.

Her stomach was starting to boil again. She looked at Dale; he was the only thing she could see. He was mouthing the words, but it only looked like moving lips. She stopped, went back into the audience and sat down.

“It’s okay!” Dale assured her.

“No it isn’t.” She buried her face in her hands feeling red and torn.

“Well, next?” Mr. Green said, trying to smile.