The Ivy League

The Ivy League Part 15

"All right everyone, well nature calls, so take a bio break yourselves for five minutes. After I get back, we'll start at scene six, all right?"

Ms. Williamson hurried off to relieve herself, following the call of nature... and of her bladder.

Everyone made cheerful noises of assent, milling around together and chatting. I swallowed nervously. Scene six would be the kissing scene and for the past hour, while we had been working on scene five, my stomach had been in knots.

I couldn't understand it - usually I was the one completely relaxed and okay with kissing a guy if I had to and the poor guy was in a state of nervous apoplexy. This was backwards. Everything concerning Nate was backwards! What is this world coming to, when Courtney Elizabeth Meyers knows the meaning of nervous?

I stood awkwardly in the group of four we had left been left in, at the end of scene five. I was surrounded by Nate, who was the soldier, Kyle, who was one of the unimportant soldiers but happened to think the costume armor made him look hot, and Eric played Quasimodo, the hunchback. Definitely not because he thought he looked hot as a hunchback, but from what I'd gathered, he had put a mousetrap in Mr. P's desk drawer, resulting in Mr. P's embarrassment in front of a school inspector and Eric's punishment being Quasimodo.

Eric made the dumbest Quasimodo I could've ever imagined, and I have an extensive imagination that surpasses most of the human population. He was also obsessed with Sharon, Auburn, who played the other gypsy girl as the mother at the beginning of the play.

The whole play consisted of Ivy Leaguers and they were everywhere. Figured.

We stood there for a few more awkward moments after Williamson declared break, and then I just needed to get away.

"Yup, well as much as I love awkward silences, I think I'm gonna go," I announced, swishing away in my gypsy Esmeralda skirt, aware that all three boys watched me leave. Gracious, but this costume shirt was low-cut.

I sniggered as I remembered seeing Ellen in the audience, giving Nate occasional glares because once in a while, when Ms. Williamson yelled at us to stand closer on stage, he would glance at my chest area, then back up at me, looking highly uncomfortable. And I thought I had it bad, with Jake and Grace in the audience.

I made my way over to those two now, and they looked far too gleeful for my liking. They had sat in the back row, snickering at my mistakes and whispering together through all of scene five, not paying attention when Williamson aimed 'shh's in their direction. They were good friends and it pissed me off that I was missing out. I should've been back there with them, mocking and laughing my hindparts off with Ellen in my place as Esmeralda. But thanks to her petty soup episode, both of us were miserable.

I was halfway across the theater where Grace and Jake were waiting for me to come up, when I bumped into someone. I looked up to see Mark's impish handsome face, grinning down at me with evil glee.

"Hello there, my pretty," he whispered into my ear, drawing out the 'o' in hello.

I scowled, tipping my head back to make sure he got a good look. "We're offstage, Mark."

He chuckled, flipping his cape over his shoulder with a dramatic flair. "Practice makes perfect," he said in such a good imitation of Williamson that it was creepy.

Despite myself, I grinned. He was actually really funny, and kept cracking one joke after the other that kept me laughing all the time. He did it for the pure enjoyment of it, not caring if people laughed or not.

The 'hello my pretty' was his version of another line he was supposed to say. Since he played the evil Lord Frollo, who happened to be obsessed with Esmeralda, he tended to modify his lines once in a while, either giving it a stalker or sociopathic quality. He had also enjoyed chucking the plastic baby down the well far too much, ignoring the fact that he wasn't supposed to drop it. I worry about him sometimes.