In…out. In…out. I repeat this breathing exercise over and over. “Are you alright?” she asks while adding the finishing touches to my outfit. Hesitating, I nod my head and continue with my hyperventilating. The only thing anybody around me can hear is my incessant breathing. Brandon, my older brother, walks up to me while struggling to put his costume on correctly. I think he is here to comfort me; but no. “What are you? Chicken? There's only thirty people out there, wuss.” Older brothers tend to get satisfaction from their younger sister's pain. I bare my teeth towards him.
I hold my paper in my hands with all of the strength that I can manage. If I let it a little bit out of my grasp, my beloved highlighted pages will fly everywhere all over the wood floor. It looks as if I am having a drug overdose of some kind, and I feel as if I cannot even comprehend anything anybody is saying. I hear my heart beating loudly in my ears and it causes my whole body to move even more. Well, whatever a real heart attack feels like, this must be something like it. I am six and I know what a heart attack feels like. This cannot be good.
Everybody is looking up to me. Everybody will be let down if I do not go on. It is not the fact that I am scared. It really is way too much pressure for my kindergarten self. However, I do know all of my lines and all my cues. Maybe I am meant for this. Maybe I should not be having a panic attack, repeating my lines in the corner, freaking myself out. I should be doing what the other kids are doing, not taking this so seriously. I am SIX. I should be having fun and relaxing. Maybe I really am just thinking too much.
The lights are dimming and I hear the shuffling of the people rushing to their seats. I try to peak out from behind the curtain to see if I find any familiar faces. I realize there is no use; it is pitch black. The director grabs me by my shoulder and pulls me back with a hint of aggression. “Keep quiet. Don't move. Act dead.” she says to me in a barely audible voice. Thinking she is taking this more serious than I am, I chuckle to myself a little. I only see her frizzy haired outline and she does not notice my smirk. I release myself from her clutches and using the cement wall as my guide, I manage to find myself a way to get to the other side of the stage. When the stage lights cut on, I am reminded of a blind man able to see for the first time. I stand for a few seconds waiting for my eyes to adjust to the shock. I hear my friends speaking the all too familiar lines that I have heard one too many times. I am literally mouthing them all, trying to get distracted from the fact that I am supposed to step on stage in less than one minute.
The ones on stage are doing well, helping with my anxiety. My breathing starts to slow but my head aches from the wet paint fumes and wood shavings. The pungent smell of popcorn attempts to disguise it, but fails, leaving me in pain. I do not think too much of this because it is almost time. It is a matter of seconds before all eyes will be on me. I hear a fellow cast mate whisper “break a leg”, but I do not show much appreciation.
I hear them. They just said them. They said the words. That was my cue. Why aren’t my legs moving? It’s easy, Powers; right, left, right, left. I feel completely paralyzed until somebody pushes me from behind. I stumble out on the stage in front of everybody and am blinded by the dozens of lights glaring down on me, their star character. The laughter starts, and it is inevitable because of my outfit and the gender of my character. I am the smallest girl in the class, and I was chosen to play an older man in a business suit. Sweat starts beading on my face from the lights, but I immediately get in character. All of the nervousness and shaking subsides, and I start naturally giving my lines. I forget Powers. I am Evan, a world famous director.
Everything is going so well, and I feel exhilarated. This is until I see them. Through the bright stage lights, I see the familiar faces of my mother and father. They wave and fidget in their seats when they realize I recognize them. I am Powers, once again and forget my line. They notice something is wrong, and I can see the helplessness in their eyes. Tears start falling down my cheek and ruining my makeup, as the awkward silence falls upon the room. Nobody knows what to do and how to help until the older brother comes to the rescue with a little improvisation. He gives me hints about my lines until I remember them and forget that my parents are sitting right in front of me. But they aren’t my parents; they are Powers’ parents. I am Evan. I continue repeating this in my mind over and over until I believe it.
I make the decision right here and now, acting will always be a part of my life. No matter if I am eighty five and in a wheel chair, I will pursue it. I do not necessarily need to be a movie star and famous, I just have a need for this exhilaration. This exhilaration of being anybody you want to be, from being a rugged pirate to a egotistical rock star. The feelings are never the same. When a person steps onto a stage, there should be no fear of judgment. There is a reason that they call it 'acting'. It is my passion. In every show, I plan to show dedication and hard work, but maybe not take it as seriously. I need a little more fun in my life. Everybody needs fun; especially a six year old.
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