"Rehearsals start at five. Be there, no excuses. We only have a week for this." Ruthie's message was clearly posted on the classroom board. Damn.. I wish I didn't have to do this but I'll fail freshman English if I don't. Why should "participation" form a big part of our grading system. I can't imagine myself acting in front of an audience... let alone in front of my schoolmates. Worse yet, I'm playing a secondary role with much speaking lines. My guts are all in knots and I feel sick... I have a feeling this will not be a good memory...

Although I'm not at all thrilled about this, I know that I have to do my best not to mess this up. My rep needs a lot of boosting already. I had all my lines memorized and I'm all psyched up to play a convincing antagonist. I'm gonna blow 'em all away.

8:00 pm. Ruthie's eyes are red and I can understand why. Any saint tasked with helping me learn to "act" would die of frustration. Ruthie is no saint. Soon, I find myself in the receiving end of a vicious tongue-lashing from our diminutive class leader. I can't help it. Even in this small group, raising my voice to barely audible is a herculean task. I am too conscious of every set of eyes and ears in the room. I have awkward movements that make walking seem like a strange dance. I blew them away alright... laughing. I made a fool of myself today... again... I fear for the fate of Ruthie's play...
I'm reading: Somber Concessions in the Short Life of Gary Gray: Ruthie's Theatre projectTweet this!
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