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THE NEXT WEEKS passed easily, and before Emerson knew it he was standing in the lobby of Hollywood Arts as different crowds of laughing, monologuing, dancing students. He checked his watch to see, of course, Briar was late. She promised to meet him six minutes ago, and walk him to his first acting class.
A bell rang and the students jostled, moving in herds in different directions. He took a few steps backwards until he heard a medley of piano notes. Emerson startled and looked over his shoulder to see a locker with a keyboard as its door. He laughed out breathily and pushed his glasses up his nose. Emerson checked his watch again with a sigh. He looked up to see Beck with a beanie on his head and a wide smile on his face.
"Cool, right?" He said, pointing to the locker.
Emerson wanted to hug him. The relief of seeing someone he knew, if only barely, balmed his nerves. "Yeah, and loud." Emerson replied, grinning back at Beck.
"Well, I don't mean to say I told you so... but..." Beck trailed off, gesturing to Emerson and then to the general area around him.
Emerson laughed and fiddled with the strap of his bookbag, "Can you brag after you take me to 4th period? Briar was supposed to meet me but never did."
Beck grinned, "Let's go Little Bear!"
Emerson giggled, and fell in line beside Beck, "Little Bear?"
Beck threw an arm around Emerson's shoulder, "Yeah," He started, and in a poor Australian accent he proclaimed, "You're like a little bear cub in the wild."
"Too many nature documentaries?" Emerson asked, side eyeing Beck as he raised an eyebrow.
Beck sighed "Too many nature documentaries." He confirmed.
***
CLASSROOM 109 WENT silent as Emerson and Beck giggled into the room. He recognized no one, except for a head of cardinal red hair. Emerson made to sit in an open chair in the back, but Beck grabbed his arm and pointed him towards two empty spots in the front row next to a boy with brown, shoulder length braids in a ponytail. Emerson took the aisle seat and Beck sat down by the boy and they bumped fists.
The class still hadn't started speaking again, and at the front of a room on a stage slightly elevated off the floor stood a man in multiple different patterns that Emerson remembered from his audition. He sipped from a coconut with a loud slurping noise. Emerson shifted through his memories to recall the man's name. Emerson leaned over to Beck, through the silence and whispered, "Does he have a coconut, or am I losing my mind?"
Beck only laughed, and sat back in his chair as the boy next to him passed him a coffee from a holder on the floor in front of him. This man was psychotic... psycho... Sikowitz! Mr. Sikowitz. Emerson sighed inwardly and thought that would be all before he was directly addressed.
