by Five Sisters

Created on: August 08, 2009

Posed on the edge of both stage an experience, she gathered her courage in her tight little backpack and ducked back behind the red velvet curtain. Guests were trickling in now, the initial rush was over, the best seats had already been taken. She saw who she needed, her mom in the front, her father up in the back. They never sat together anymore; they never did anything together anymore. Her parents had been separated for four years, almost half her life. They were civil and always there for her, she was as all right as she could be.

All legs and elbows, she accidentally knocked into her friends waiting in the wings as she passed back, backstage. The excitement was palpable and the air was a banquet of adrenaline and nerves floating around on the sweet sweat of youth. Costumes crashed and clashed aggravating matters and summoning emergency sewing kits attached covertly to over eager mothers buzzing around like decorated Top Guns. Time sped up and voices straining with concern and fevered pitch evoked tears from the sensitive and jeers from the hardier of the bunch. Rainbows of pastels hung loosely from blossoming hips challenged all the while by a gravity that just wouldn't stop. The boys on the other hand cared only in various degrees, some readjusting their ties until their necks were swollen while others not wearing one at all tactically forgot where they had actually left it.

She cared about her attire and made a beeline for the full length mirror in the privacy of the first floor bathroom. There she analyzed her seams and securely refashioned both pins and snaps. Looking closer she scrutinized her mascara, eyeliner and the blush on her cheeks. The red painted across her lips was bright enough to blind the visitors in the last row making her teeth glow florescent.

Her composer was collected. She had practiced her lines for three and a half months; eating, drinking, and sleeping with them the last couple of weeks. She was Adeline. She was the Doll the guys were doing it all for, albeit in their simpler, much abbreviated fifth grade version. She was the lead - the head of the hot box girls.

Satisfied, she returned to the gaggle of characters and their blanket of anticipation back down in the basement. Weaving through heights, she helped pin and tuck and encourage everything that needed it. She complimented, hugged, and initiated idle chatter to break down anxiety levels typically unheard of in people her age. She cordially signed playbills always including a smiley face dancing in the center of the O in her last name.

Finally, making one last peek at her appearance in the mirror and hugging her director and stage mom, she settled down into her position where she would wait for her cue.

She was ready, ready to perform her role, ready to play her part; but this time merely in a play within her play.

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