9. The Drama Club

Chapter nine

The Drama Club

T he excitement of joining the drama club infuses new energy into my day. Back in L.A., drama was my escape, my creative outlet. I loved every aspect of it – acting, singing, costume design. It was where I felt most alive. Now, standing in front of the double doors of what I assume is the school’s entertainment hall, I feel a familiar flutter of anticipation in my stomach.

Taking a deep breath, I knock and step into the room. It’s bustling with activity. At least thirty students are scattered around, rehearsing, chatting, or working on various projects. At the center of it all is the teacher, a tall man with a slight plumpness to his frame, his hair dyed an unnatural shade of black, betraying his age.

“Hello,” he greets warmly. “And who might you be?”

I approach him, noticing his keen, observant eyes behind his glasses. “I’m Amelia. I was wondering if the drama club is still accepting new members?”

The room falls silent for a moment as everyone’s attention shifts to me. I can feel their curious eyes assessing me, the new face amidst their familiar crowd.

“We’re always happy to welcome anyone with a passion for the arts,” the teacher replies with a smile.

“So, I don’t need to audition?” I ask, surprised by the open-door policy.

“No need for auditions here,” he chuckles. “The theatre has a role for everyone, whether you’re front stage or behind the scenes. But tell me, what are your talents?”

I think back to my experiences in the drama club in L.A. “I’ve done a bit of everything – acting, singing, designing costumes. I’d like to think I’m decent at all of them.”

A girl in the front row, with striking red hair and a confident demeanor, pipes up, “Just decent? Or are you great?”

Her face seems familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve seen her. Maybe around campus? Her question, though challenging, is tinged with a playful curiosity. The girl’s challenging question lingers in the air, her playful smirk indicating a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “I’ve been singing for a while, so maybe somewhere in between,” I respond, trying to strike a balance between confidence and modesty.

She seems intrigued but quickly returns to her conversation, leaving me standing there with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

The teacher’s voice cuts through the chatter. “We have new members this term, so we’re holding auditions for the upcoming play – a modern twist on Snow White.” The mention of Snow White stirs a memory in me, an ironic parallel to my current life where I’m aware that some housemates have contemplated my demise. “Now, before our new addition to the club arrived, we were discussing our Prince Charming.”

As the teacher discusses the role of Prince Charming, a familiar voice catches my attention. “Not doing it.” My eyes scan the room, landing on a figure slouched in his chair, phone in hand – Oliver. The room’s focus shifts to him.

“Oliver, you’re perfect for the role,” the teacher insists, met with nods of agreement from others.

Oliver remains steadfast. “I’m here for sound and music, not for performing.”

The teacher pleads, emphasizing the time crunch for the play’s preparation. “Voices and faces like yours shouldn’t be hidden. Please, do it for the team.”

The room erupts with encouragement for Oliver to take the role. I’m puzzled by the intensity of their reactions – what’s so special about Oliver’s past performances? Sure, he’s undeniably attractive, but I’ve yet to hear him sing.

“Shut up,” he finally says, silencing the room. “I’ll do it, but on two conditions.” Everyone leans in, eager to hear his terms. “I write the ending duet, and she plays Snow White,” he declares, pointing directly at me.

My jaw drops in shock. Why would Oliver want me, a newcomer, to play such a pivotal role opposite him? Is this his way of reaching out, or does he have another motive? The teacher’s quick acceptance of Oliver’s conditions sends a ripple of surprise through the room. The students, clearly unsettled by his decision, voice their concerns.

“Why does she get to be Snow White? We don’t even know if she can sing,” a student protests.

Peter Fasoli, our teacher, addresses the class with a firm yet fair tone. “You all respect Oliver’s talent and have enjoyed his performances. If he believes Amelia is the right choice for Snow White, then we should trust his judgment.”

The room falls into a reluctant silence, and I feel a mix of gratitude and apprehension. Mr. Fasoli then directs the others to choose their roles while asking Oliver and me to work on the final duet in a separate area. I sit next to Oliver, flipping through the modernized script of Snow White set in a high school.

As I read, I can’t help but feel a spark of excitement. This isn’t just any role; it’s a chance to step into a character in a story I’ve known since childhood, yet with a fresh perspective. I glance at Oliver, who’s absorbed in his script, his expression focused yet unreadable.

I stop at a scene towards the end, realizing why Oliver might have chosen me. “Did you want me as Snow White because our characters touch a lot in the script?”

Oliver responds without looking up. “Yeah. And kiss, apparently.”

My surprise is evident. “What?”

He points to the script. “It’s Snow White. The kiss is crucial to the story.”

I flip to the page, finding the scene he mentioned. “I just thought, being a modern version, it wouldn’t rely on the old trope of the girl needing the guy to save her.”

Oliver chuckles lightly. “Mr. Fasoli is quite the romantic. He loves the classic elements.”

Oliver’s revelation about the script’s deviation from the traditional Snow White tale catches me off guard. “You’re telling me it says ‘she wakes up and continues to kiss him passionately’? I always thought Snow White was a children’s fairy tale.”

“The original story was much darker and not really meant for kids. In fact, I don’t think there’s even a kiss in the original version,” Oliver explains, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

I consider challenging the script. “Why don’t we suggest that change to Mr. Fasoli?”

Oliver shrugs. “Given how hard it was to avoid playing Prince Charming, I doubt he’d budge on the script.”

I can’t hide my frustration. “This doesn’t seem fair. Why did you push for me to play this role?”

Oliver leans back, choosing his words carefully. “You know what I am. It’s different with you. Any other girl in this role wouldn’t understand why I might hesitate or need to practice touching.”

“Practice touching ‘often’?” I ask, a mix of surprise and curiosity in my voice.

“Feeling squeamish?” he teases.

I shake my head, though I’m visibly uneasy. “No, I mean, I just... I don’t even know how to start with this. I thought Nolan told you I was afraid of vampires.”

“He did. I just don’t care.” Wow, that was blunt. “The fact is, at the moment when you look at me, all you see is a vampire. And although I’m not encouraging you to see otherwise, because as a matter of fact, vampires are deadly, it would be nicer to know that you dislike me for me and not because of what I am. So can you try and do me a favor and stop picking at your cuticles while you’re around me and fidgeting so aggressively?” I look down on my hands and realize that not only am I picking my cuticles, I’m also starting to tear the edges of the paper. What is wrong with me?

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it.” He looks out towards everybody else just to make sure that they’re not too close before he leans in towards me.

“Look, I’m not trying to be a dick here. But the fact is, I just can’t touch anyone. It’s been a long time since I’ve attempted to perform on stage, but I remember enjoying it. I really don’t want to hurt anyone, and I need your help. So please will you just help me?” His earnest request leaves me slightly stunned. Nodding, I agree, seeing this as an opportunity for both of us. For Oliver, it’s a chance to reconnect with something he enjoys, and for me, perhaps a way to confront and overcome my fears. As his eyes meet mine, the green in them shining more intensely than the brown, I can’t help but wonder if this is the right decision. But in this moment, it feels like a step toward understanding him better, beyond the vampire facade.