Nothing is Perfect

0:1

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏ
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Dahlia Jenkins walked around backstage, getting everyone ready for the play that was going to start in five minutes as her job as the stage manager she took it very seriously. She wanted everything to go perfect; they had been working on it for weeks.

Most of the students didn't take it very seriously like she did.

She looked around, gazing over the students looking for someone in particular, but she couldn't find him.

"Breath, Dahlia," Cassandra said, walking up to her with a bright smile on her face noticing how her friend was stressed. Cassandra placed her hand on her back in a reassuring manner; Dahlia looked at Cassandra, who was still smiling at her; for some reason, it calmed her down. She smiled back at Cassandra, her smile didn't reach from ear to ear, but it was something.

Dahlia and Cassandra have been friends for over eight years; they knew each other like the palm of their hands. Both girls were similar; they were smart, responsible, and loyal, which might be why they hit it off as soon as Cassandra defended Dahlia back when they were younger. Campbell was making fun of Dahlia after he had broken her favorite crayons. She was devastated those crayons were her favorites, the way that they colored on the piece of paper made her feel like a true artist. But Campbell, seeing how happy she was, couldn't stand it and walked up to her and broke every single one of them. Little Cassandra, with one arm on her hip, walked up to where her cousin was and told him how rude he was behaving and to apologize right away; Campbell simply chuckled.

With tears in her eyes, Dahlia got up from her chair and hit him as hard as she could below his knee. He held his leg in pain and went back to his seat not before giving her a look that could kill.

Campbell didn't apologize to her, but Cassandra did, and she even let her borrow her crayons; they weren't as colorful as the ones she had, but it was the first time someone was nice to her, and that's how they became best friends in a weird way thanks to Campbell.

"I can't find Harry," she said desperately. Harry was one of the main characters of the play; she didn't want to admit it, but they could literally not start without him. "Hey, don't worry, I'll look for him," Cassandra said, placing her hands on either side of Dahlia's shoulders. "Thank you," she said, relieved. Not wasting any more time, Cassandra left looking for Harry.

Dahlia took a deep breath, "ok, everyone, get in positions we are on in less than five minutes," Dahlia said loudly, getting the attention of the students. "Let's go," Allie, the assistant stage manager said as she moved her arms around slowly the students started to move. Dahlia looked at Allie with a smile on her face "thank you." Allie held her clipboard smile back at her "no problem."

Everyone started to move and get in position; Dahlia fixed any minor details she saw in the customs "everything looks amazing, it's going to go great," Will said, walking up to her, "is it though" she looked at Will. "Is it too late to change a few things," she said mostly to herself. He chuckled lightly "hey, it looks great, and look, Harry is here," Will said, pointing ahead, and there he was walking behind Cassandra with an annoyed expression on his face.

"There you are," Dahlia said irritated, walking up to Harry and pulling on his sleeve "calm down, flower, I'm here," Harry said, raising his hands in surrender.

Flower was a nickname that Harry called her as long as they knew each other back in kindergarten; he said it was easier for him to remember her name that way. Time and time again, she had reminded him that flower wasn't her real name. He clearly didn't care, and it seemed that he wasn't going to change that. Dahlia was sure that Harry now believed her name had always been flower.

"Whatever, just go and act" Dahlia pointed to the stage and lightly pushed him; he smiled back at her and walked to the stage where Cassandra was already ready on the mark.

The play began, and Dahlia watched from the side of the stage, hugging herself holding her breath as everything unfold in front of her. She felt proud of what she had done, and she was happy with how everything turned out.

After almost two hours, the play was done, Dahlia clapped proudly as the cast bowed in front of the audience, which were mostly parents and siblings.

"Come on, it's our turn," Allie said and hugged Dahlia's arm. The rest of the crew walked to the front of the stage. The lights were blinding; she squinted her eyes as she saw the audience in the second row was her younger sister. She was standing up and clapping like a lunatic when she saw Dahlia on the stage; she couldn't help but smile as she saw her sister.

The crew bowed as well; Dahlia waved goodbye as the curtains closed. "Great job, everyone," Dahlia said enthusiastically with a bright smile on her face looking at the crowd of students. Now that the play was done, she was no longer stressed, and she felt truly proud of the whole cast and crew.

A handful of people smile at her like Allie, Cassandra, Will, Kelly, and Becca the rest just continue walking, wanting to take the custom off and go home. "Ok then," Dahlia said with a clap of her hands and started to walk off the stage as well. She walked behind a few students who were laughing among themselves.

"Can I have your autograph stage manager of the year," Dahlia's sister said loudly, running up to her pushing a few people out of the way.

Deborah Jenkins Dahlia's younger sister. They were almost the same height even though Dahlia was older; some people assumed that Deborah was the oldest because of their similar heights. Deborah was truly the one that got the looks from both of them. She had nice long soft flaming reddish hair, nice symmetrical eyebrows, naturally plump lips, and beautiful freckles decorating her face.

Deborah's personality was something that Dahlia wished she had. Deborah was loud, funny, spontaneous; she didn't care what others thought of her. Dahlia wanted to be just a little like her little sisters.

Since Deborah was four years old, she hated her name; she didn't care that she was named after her great grandmother. If you ever dare call her Deborah, you better hope you have your funeral planned. She would much rather prefer being called Debby.

Dahlia's eyebrows raised "be careful, Debby," she told her as a few people looked back at them. "Sorry about her," Dahlia apologized to the parents that Debby had bumped into on her way to her.

Debby crashed into her and hugged her "that was amazing and surprisingly not boring at all," Debby said, breaking the hug. Dahlia tilted her head to the side and smiled "that's very nice of you."

"I know, right, I thought I was going to sleep through the whole thing, but I didn't," Debby said proudly.

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