The last time I acted for the stage was back in sixth grade as Jesus for the traditional Last Supper play. I didn’t know my lines and had the script on the table with me the whole time. The only highlight was eating the food afterwards, unleavened bread and grape juice. My picture even got in two local newspapers.
Flash forward nearly a decade later. Everyone had to audition for both plays. I went in with my audition sheet and asked for the role of Brandon. Merely a day later, the results were posted and I was very excited that I got what I wanted. My classmates agreed that I could perform the role really well when the night came. I practiced alone by walking around our screening room with this music playing.
Then, last night. After nearly a month of rehearsal, I knew my lines for the most part. I was prepared to improvise if necessary. I had my props all set and I’m waiting backstage. All of my peers are backstage as people start to fill the house.
The volume began to increase backstage. I tried my best to shut out the sound by sitting in an alcove, blankly staring at some wood panels. I reach in my pocket and take out two empty spools, given to me by a good friend of mine who is on the spectrum. I start rotating them in my left hand, trying to clear my mind. Nobody really noticed. It wasn’t long before the show began to start and things started to quiet down. I still played with them, stashing them back into my pocket when my cue came.
After the play, I mingled with the crowd. I saw some faculty members and received positive feedback from them. I never got praise for my role in the sixth grade, but then again I didn’t do a good job. Here, it was genuine and I knew it. I got handshakes and pats on the back; this was good.
I went home, wet from what happened to Brandon in Check, Please, relieved that it was over, and proud because of what I did. I had fun and feel more confident in my skills. True, I can always improve but that’s all part of acting.