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“Good afternoon, I’m Ms. Talbot. Welcome to my studio intensive. You’re all acting students, which means this is what you—yes?” she asks, irritated by my raised hand as I lookaround.
“I’m in contemporary music, not theater. This is myelective.”
Her gaze narrows. “Is anyone else here in contemporarymusic?”
Two other hands go up—a guy named Jake I met in Entertainment Management and anothergirl.
“Wonderful. Dilettantes in ourmidst.”
Elle snorts next to me, and she shoots me a “WTF” look as Talbot turnsaway.
“Today’s challenge is as follows,” the professor continues. “I will hand you a sheet of paper with a scene on one side and the character’s bio on the other. Read the scene without looking at the bio. Your task is to get into your character’s head quickly and understand them from their words alone.” She points at me. “You want to be here so badly, let’s find outwhy.”
I head to the front of the room, squaring myshoulders.
I can do this. I’ve been in front of far larger crowds. But this feels like my first sort-of performance at Vanier, and itmatters.
“I wish you’d listen to me,” I read off the sheet she hands me. “I know you think I stand in your way, but I’m not trying to stop you. I’m trying to saveyou.”
A few snickers sound from my classmates looking at the back of my card. I ignore them and go deeper. I feel the pain in the words. Burrow into it as Iread.
When I finish the scene, I draw a longbreath.
Talbot gestures at my card, and I flip itover.
“Wait—I’m a crossingguard?”
The class bursts into laughter, and my cheeks flame as I go back to myseat.
And it’s Elle’s turn. She gives a more subtle performance, and I realize this is harder than Ifigured.
For the last year, all I could think about was coming here, how everything would be solved. Now, as I look at my talented classmates, I realize how far from the truth thatis.
“That was brutal,” I blurt as we head back upstairs after class, passing a dozen practice rooms, alloccupied.
“I’ve been booed off stage before, so I’m not going to lie to you. It was pretty bad,” Ellereplies.
“I need to get out of here,” I decide as we emerge from the stairwell and head down the hall toward ourrooms.
The door to my room is open, and Rae’s inside, at her desk on her computer with headphones covering herears.
“Then let’s go out tonight,” Elle says, dropping onto my bed as I set my books on my desk. “I saw this place called Leo’s that looks cool. They have an open mic nightWednesdays.”
“You’re gonna needID.”
We both look over in surprise at Rae’s voice. She turns toward us, tugging off theheadphones.
“My cousin gave me her old license,” Ellesays.
Rae crooks a finger, and Elle digs out a driver’s license. Rae scoffs. “She’s got four inches and thirty pounds onyou.”
“I’m an actor. It’s all about posture.” Elle snatches the card back and shoves it in herpocket.
“I don’t have ID.” I’m sure I could’ve figured out how to get one, but back home, there weren’t clubs closeby.
An idea strikes me.Beck.
I fire off a text. The response comes almostimmediately.
