Permanent Positions [4]

(Malory)

Mrs Cole leads the callback meeting. I stand at one end of the room, beside Olivia, and Kyle and Ron stand on the other, in a dark spot where the light is flickering.

“Alright, how is everyone feeling?” Mrs Cole asks.

Excited students roar with enthusiastic comments, laughter and cheers. I stand in my misery, swallowing and blinking; irritated.

“Please, if you haven’t already, give your name and updated contact information to Mr Richards, Miss Jenkins or myself before the day is over... and now, let’s talk about the script.

“This year, the play was chosen by one of the executive board members, Miss Mahogany Howel. She’s been generous enough to offer sponsorship for the production –for props and costumes... whatever we need. She will be here for the event. These are your scripts.” She grabs a script from the tall stack sitting on the desk behind her and raises it for us all to see. “When you get your script, read it. We have enough time from now until April to rehearse for the play, and we’re scheduled to have rehearsals on Fridays. Every Friday. If you’re not able to make it on Fridays, please let us know now or as soon as possible.”

Two students raise their hands with concerns related to the rehearsal schedule. While Mrs Cole is dealing with those two, my mind wanders away to the possibility of whether I could deliberately go into a coma for the next eight months to avoid the production. It would be a valid excuse that I could give to the examiners... wouldn’t it?

Sigh.

As if.

Mrs Cole then gestures to Mr Richards and Miss Jenkins who begin distributing the scripts to the students. “If you already know the story by the title of the play,” she says, “you will come to understand that our version is a little different from the original script. Many changes have been made to fit the director’s vision, but the overall concept is still the same. Miss Howel is one who is always delighted by the original twists we give to our plays. This year is no different. In fact, I’m thinking she’s much more enthusiastic about this year’s play considering she chose it. Please make me proud. Read your script. Learn your script.”

A script finally reaches me.

Masked at Midnight.

I gasp. My eyes widen.

No.

No.

“Masked at Midnight?” I mutter in disbelief.

Olivia comments on my unnerved disposition. “What’s up with you?”

I want to throw myself off a cliff is what is up with me.

I want to jump into the Niagara Falls and drown before the day is over.

I want to do anything that would prevent me from co-starring in Masked at Midnight with Kyle Davidson.

My eyes scan the room briefly for Kyle before finding him. If he didn’t know anything about this play before, he certainly does now. I can’t hear Ron’s words from all the way over here on the other side of the room, but I suppose neither can Kyle, with that grave expression on his face. Ron must’ve vaguely explained it to him.

“Nope. Absolutely not. Olivia, I am so not co-starring as the lead in this play with... Kyle.”

Olivia groans beside me. “This again.”

“Olivia, have you never read ‘Masked at Midnight?’”

“Never,” she responds obliviously.

“Have you never seen the play?”

“Never.”

“Well shit,” I spit, exasperatedly, bursting into melodramatic laughter. “I’m going to kill myself. I am going to kill myself.”

“No, you are most definitely not doing that,” she replies, sternly.

“Olivia.”

“Malory.”

I rub my forehead –frustrated. “Go home. Read the script. Don’t ask me about it. I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t ask. Just read it yourself. I’m... I’m already exhausted.”

Ugh, I can’t believe my life.

This play is so romantically... mushy... and –ugh...

Disgusting. I’d rather drown myself in a sewer.

I turn to find Olivia staring warily at me. “Why couldn’t the play be something where one of the leading stars murders the other?” I ask. “Why... why did it have to be this?”

“It looks interesting,” she says, innocently. “What’s so bad about it?”

“I am the leading lady,” I tell her. “Me and Kyle. Kyle and I. The two of us. We are going to have to pretend to... pretend... to... to fall in lo-,” I almost hurl. “I can’t even put him and that word in the same sentence.”

Olivia pauses. She then bursts out into laughter.

I want to strangle her.

I want to braid my long hair into a noose and strangle her and tie her to the ceiling with it.

Best friend or not, she laughs with such little consideration for my genuine frustration when it comes to this idiot boy.

“Wait- do you mean there are scenes where the two of you have to hold hands and recite love speeches to each other and pretend to be deeply in love?” She has to hug her stomach to keep from falling to the floor in laughter.

“Yes,” I say, calmly. “Go ahead. Laugh. Laugh at me. Laugh. Some best friend you are.”

I look down at the script in my hands before rolling it using it to hit the wall, a grimace plastered over my face. I turn to find Kyle staring at me in oblivion rather than annoyance. I glare at him before storming out of the auditorium.

Maybe I could transfer to another school in Toronto. Maybe I could fake my own death. Maybe I could-

...Never mind.

Clearly there’s no way I’m getting out of this.