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"POSITIONS! LIGHTS! AND ACTION!" Peter yelled into the mic as the two of us sat in the lighting room for our school theatre.
"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." The girl on stage spoke loudly as her voice echoed throughout the theatre.
"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou lest faith turn to despair." Her Romeo told her, his hand holding hers.
"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." She spoke again and waited for him to answer.
The exciting part was approaching, I thought.
"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take." With that her Romeo leaned in and kissed her.
Cheers from the front chair traveled across the room as the drama teacher praised the two on stage.
Me and peter in the meanwhile, turned the knobs and pressed the buttons that were displayed in front of us, each one of a different colour and a different function to make the stage glow up in its glory.
The two of us were working on the lighting team for the school play that was this Saturday.
Working behind the curtains really wasn't my thing, I preferred to act. To be on stage. To entertain the audience through my words, not the purple blue lights that were far from the lens.
I wanted to please the people, I wanted to be the rose, not the stem.
I had auditioned countless times, but girls who seemed to have a higher status in the school seemed to get all the parts.
Just like every year, Liz had gotten the lead role and I returned to my chair on the top of the theatre, that looked down upon where the magic happened.
It was all bullshit.
But on the bright side, I got to meet Peter.
We had been decorating the stage, making props and handling the lights for every play that had happened in the last two years and our friendship had strengthened tremendously.
He had always been a sweetheart and the only reason why I felt like going to rehearsals for any play was his entertaining company.
The lighting room was our own little space where we munched on Cheetos and deliberately spread out the puff to make a mess.
The floor had cans of soda and the buttons were oily from the amount of times we touched them with our Cheeto fingers. (Everyone with terrible OCD cringe)
