FicWad

"My love, why are you shaking?"

Amy May looked over at me, her blue eyes as wide as saucers. Though they were often very wide (perhaps unfortunately so), somehow, they seemed wider than ever. Perhaps it was the hall lights, though. There was something funny about the radiant fluorescent lights that plagued most high schools, especially in Polk Public High School. I daresay that even I was not safe from them, though I preferred to think that my makeup was perfectly intact despite the improper lighting.

"I'm nervous as hell," she replied, pacing back and forth between lockers 268 and 289. "I really want to get in, but I'm not sure I have the voice. How picky do you think they'll be?"

"You have a lovely voice," I said sincerely, flopping on the floor next to my backpack. "Why should you worry?" I paused for a moment, then added, "Should I go quickly change into a skirt before my audition? Or would that look sort of desperate?"

"It's only a high school musical, not Broadway," said Amy, snickering. "Unless Mr. Fitzwilliam wants to see your long, luxurious legs."

"I hardly think them luxurious," I replied dryly. "They are much larger than most young girls' legs."

"Yeah, they are." She must've seen the look on my face, because she quickly added, "But it's because you play soccer. It's... uh... muscle."

"You pain me, my love," I sighed, running my hand down my blue jeans, as if to flatten my already too-large legs.

"Elizabeth. Is it so hard for you not to talk as if you've been dropped out of a Victorian romance?"

I glared at her over my fake glasses. My mother hated these glasses, but I loved them. I thought they made me look a bit smarter. Of course, my mother thought they made me look ugly, but mothers will say such things. I gave them a tap, then sighed again.

"You know it gives me little pleasure to correct your incorrectness; however, I will not shirk. These so-called 'romances' are in fact books written by Jane Austen, and I think them more clever commentaries on society than 'romance'. Then again, as is with most of today's youth, you may not understand the delicate differences between the classics and today's so called 'literature.'"

"Oh, of course. I should have known better. Now if you'll PARDON me, I have to go slit my wrists."

I shot her a glance. What did she mean by that? Did she know... No, apparently not, because she was giggling like a fiend at her own witticism.

"As you like," I said stiffly.

Just then, the choir room door swung open. Our musical director, Miss Lazerth, glared at us steadily. She was a fifty-something woman with a prematurely lined face and thick glasses. I personally thought her to be something of a grouch, but I never acted like I thought so. When I saw her face appear, I gave her a courteous smile and nodded.

"Is an... Amy May here?" she asked irritably.

"That's me," squeaked Amy, quivering nervously.

"We're ready for you."

Amy shot me a desperate look. I grinned encouragingly, but I didn't feel as much as I portrayed. Sure, Amy had a good voice, but she was the type to get nervous and completely screw up an audition. I hoped that she made it, though. It was my first year doing the school musical, and I didn't know that many people who had been in the show the year before. Plus, many of the theater geeks had a notorious reputation for being the weirdest kids in school. Though I was considerably strange myself, I sometimes found that I became very shy around those I didn't know well and found it difficult to be openly weird. While I would fit in normally, my shy self wouldn't. With a friend around, I would be able to act more like myself.

Her audition was brief. It seemed only thirty seconds later that she reappeared. She looked totally crushed. I began preparing myself to be the comfort committee, but apparently, I didn't have time for such things. Miss Lazerth paused in the doorway as Amy exited, and once she had fully cleared the door, she spoke again.

"Elizabeth Mayers, I presume?" She gave me a cold, beady look.

"The same," I replied wittily.

"We're ready for you."

I removed my glasses and followed her into the choir room.

Mr. Fitzwilliam gave me a warm smile as I entered. I loved him very dearly (as a teacher, that is), and if I wasn't mistaken, he felt the same about me. I loved him for a variety of reasons-- His sense of humor, his strict but caring way of directing, and above all, his musical genius. From only a year of being in his choir, I could see that he was one of the most accomplished musicians I would ever meet in my lifetime.

"You have three beats before the music begins. You're trying out as a soprano, right?" Mr. Fitzwilliam looked at me through his glasses which, by the way, were completely real.

"Yes, of course," I stammered nervously. Chill, I told myself. You have this. You know you have this.

"Wouldn't have you do otherwise," he replied, still smiling.

Tap. Tap. Tap. There they were, the three beats marking the tempo. The first chord. The second. And then... my entrance.

"I've never been in love before
Now all at once it's you
It's you forevermore
I've never been in love before
I thought my heart was safe
I thought I knew the score
But this is wine
That's all too strange and strong
I'm full of foolish song
And out my song must soar
So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in
I've really never been
In love before."

"Thank you," said Miss Lazerth monotonically.

"Yes, thank you," echoed Mr. Fitzwilliam, however, in a much warmer tone. "Callbacks will be posted on my bulletin board. Make it a point to check," he added in a quiet voice, almost as if he didn't want Miss Lazerth hearing.

"Thanks," I replied, jamming my hands in my pocket and walking out.

"Well? Well? How did it go?" Amy grabbed the sleeve of my shirt and clung on for dear life. "What did they say?"

"Nothing, really. Fitz told me to look at the callback board, but Miss Lazerth didn't seem to like me much."

"Oh, she doesn't like anyone!" laughed Amy, slowly loosening the grip on my arm. "But I'm sure you sang well, didn't you?"

For no apparent reason, I blushed deeply. "I think so."

"You've got such a pretty voice, Elizabeth," sighed Amy. "If only I had your voice!"

I turned from her, suddenly lost in my own reflections. Yes, I had sang well. Almost too well. I had a voice that was more than a touch operatic, and sometimes, it killed me in theater auditions. Plus, I was a terrible actress... I had no expression on my face when I sang, or at least, that's what my voice teacher always used to harp on me about. But I had certainly sang well. The high G had simply soared as I never expected it to soar. If there was one thing I had faith in, it was my voice. Not much else in my life was that stable. But my voice... That I always had.

"Let's go," I murmured, pressing my hand against Amy's shoulder. "It's getting late."

*

I bid Amy adieu once we reached the auditorium entrance. I had to go to my locker one more time, and it was all the way down in the basement of the school, and I didn't mean to make Amy walk all the way down there. She smiled and waved at me enthusiastically, but her smile suddenly melted off her face after several seconds. I couldn't understand why, until--

"Well, Elizabeth Mayers. You look sweet today."

I whirled to my left, only to find myself face-to-face with Sean Winters. He was my one of my ex-boyfriends, but a very friendly one at that. Though we had been awkward for almost a year after our breakup, we had recently become very good friends. The only problem was, being friends with Sean Winters-- as a girl, that is-- meant that you were always a little something more than friends.

"Come on. We won't disgust Amy any further," he said in a low voice, putting his arm around my shoulders and leading me away from the door.

"You shouldn't have done that," I replied furiously, trying to shake his arm off. "What if she tells Larry?"

Larry was my current boyfriend. He was very nice, and also about as exciting as toast.

"What would she say? That she caught you in my presence?" He gave me a mocked horrified look. "What ever will we do?"

"Shut up," I hissed, finally successfully removing his arm from my shoulders. "You know what I mean."

Sean paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Which reminds me. When are you going to give your biggest fan a kiss?" He resumed clutching me to him, which I did not appreciate.

"I have a boyfriend," I said pointedly.

"Oh, who cares!" he laughed. "Have you even kissed him yet? Have you?"

I didn't answer.

"Ah! He sounds like an exciting one. But you must be missing it," he added in a breathy whisper.

Chills ran down my spine. Truthfully, Sean Winters wasn't attractive. He had a long, prominent nose, ratty brown hair, and the worst teeth I had ever witnessed in America. But he had what some of my friends called "sex appeal". He gave off certain vibes that made you want to grab his hand and run into a darkened stairwell to make out with him. Not to mention those eyes... God, those eyes! They were a deep, ocean blue, fringed by a dark set of eyelashes. It wasn't that Sean Winters was attractive, but he was more of a man than most boys in our school. He wasn't afraid of rejection, nor was he afraid to tell you exactly what he wanted. Funnily enough, sometimes, it made you want the exact same thing once he'd voiced it.

Oh, and there was one other thing... Something I probably should have mentioned first. His voice. Yes, he was the most conceited tenor in choir, but somehow, he almost had a right to be. He had a voice that had, on many occasions, caused me to slump against a wall in the wings backstage. Usually by that point, I would be shaking and giggling myself silly. There was something incredibly raw about his voice, and yet it was rich and operatic, not to mention so, so manly. He became someone different when he was singing... Someone beautiful, passionate, and sexy. I wasn't strange in my thinking this. Everyone thought so. My strangeness came from the fact that I was the only one to think that he actually retained these qualities when he wasn't singing.

"You're an idiot," I replied shakily, pushing him away from me.

"So, what'd you think of auditions, eh?" His voice made a sudden change from suave and sexy to his normal self, which I admit I liked a little better. "If I don't get a lead, I'll know it's fixed. I don't get who they're going to give Sky to. I mean, Nathan's completely fixed-- That'll be Raymond Webber. He's perfect for the part, even if his voice is a little weak. But Sky?"

"Raymond Webber?" I repeated, my curiosity piqued. "Do you think so?"

"Duh."

"What about the... uh... the girl leads?" I glanced up at him hopefully.

"Adelaide will obviously go to Ashley Glaub, only because she would only need to act like herself to play that part well," he said seriously.

"That's so mean!" I cried, stunned that he could speak about her in such a way. I knew that he thought her to be very pretty, and yet he could openly call her stupid?

"Listen, you know it's true. Have you ever heard two words of sense come out of Ashley's mouth?"

I admitted I hadn't.

"Yeah, well, that makes her perfect for Adelaide. But Sarah..." He paused, and my heart leapt hopefully. "I don't know who they'll put there. Maybe Jessica Klein. She's a senior."

My heart sank as quickly as it had risen. Jessica Klein? She didn't have the voice. Yes, she had the acting, but she definitely didn't have the voice. I mean, the girl could hardly reach a high G cleanly. How did they expect her to play Sarah Brown?

"It's not definite," he added, seeing the look on my face. "God, I'm not Miss Lazerth. You take me too seriously, sweetie."

He cupped my chin in his mouth. I let him for a second, then jerked my head away. He sighed deeply.

"One of these days, you're going to enjoy me. But right now, I've got to go. My parents are going to kill me for taking so long."

"I'll see you, then," I squeaked, my chest suddenly tight.

As he began to walk away, I felt something rising within me that shouldn't ever be allowed to escape from a girl. It was a natural sort of longing, but at the same time, it was indecent and improper. Maybe a boy could allow himself to feel such emotions, but as a girl, especially a girl who revered Jane Austen, could not let such feelings to dictate her actions. But I didn't care. I really didn't anymore.

"Sean!" I yelled.

He turned to face me, a puzzled smile on his face. I moved forward a few paces. His face was very close to mine. I found that I could no longer look in his eyes. He didn't take his eyes off my face, though, and before I could react, I felt his chapped lips brush against mine. It was quick and clean-- Nothing dirty about it at all. But I suddenly felt very indecent. Was kissing a boy for less than a second considered cheating? Probably. But I knew Sean wouldn't tell. He was the greasiest, sleaziest guy in school, but he was respectable to some degree.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

"Aw, sweetie, don't be such a drama queen," he chuckled. He swooped down upon me and we kissed again. "See you tomorrow."

"'Bye," I called after him.

It wasn't right, but I didn't care. Every atom in me tingled with happiness. I watched him walk down the hall until I couldn't see him anymore, then turned and ran down the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears.