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Authors: Linas Alsenas
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person to go is . . . Maria Kilkenny.”
A big girl wearing bright orange socks hurried over to the piano. She gave Christy her music and climbed up onto the stage. I breathed a sigh of relief that they were going in order—how many names were ahead of mine? Thirty-five or so? God, that seemed like a long time—sitting and waiting, feeling like this . . .
“Hi, um, I’m Maria Kilkenny. I’m a freshman here, and I’m going to sing ‘There’s a Fine, Fine Line’ from the musical
Avenue Q
.” Ooh, excellent choice, I thought to myself. And then she opened her mouth—and I almost died.
She was amazing. She was, like,
professional
amazing.
I got chills listening to her. Then her monologue, something from
Sophie’s Choice
, was friggin’ perfect. I mean, oneminute we were watching a stocky Oaks girl in orange socks, and the next thing we knew, Meryl Streep was standing on our stage, remembering the Holocaust.
Then I just felt sick. Was everyone going to be this good? Suddenly this whole audition thing seemed like a really dumb idea.
But that sinking feeling was buoyed by the next person to audition, a little guy wearing a St. Augustine’s Prep letter jacket. He basically croaked his way through “Music of the Night” . . . or at least I think that’s what it was supposed to be. And his monologue, taken from one of the court scenes from
A Few Good Men
—well, let’s just say it wasn’t
convincing
. Halfway through, Xiang put on earphones and took her algebra problem set out of her green bag.
Fortunately for those of us still watching through our fingers, none of the following people were that bad. Also fortunately, they weren’t nearly as good as that Maria Kilkenny girl. There were some funny monologues and some pretty decent singers, and the choices weren’t bad—well, except for a Disney song or two. A few people missed cues and forgot lines, but I was impressed (or
de
pressed, I should say) by how good everyone was.
There was this one senior, Kate O’Day, who really stood out. Tall, skinny, and blessed with long, straight auburn hair, she could have been a supermodel, and she carried herself like one. She sang “Popular” from
Wicked
, a song she was perfect for, since it’s all about being pretty and, well, popular. Her monologue was from the montage at the end ofthe movie
Clueless
, when Alicia Silverstone realizes that she loves her stepbrother. Side note: No matter how much I love that movie (with all my heart and soul), or how cute Paul Rudd is in it (very extremely), the quasi-incest still creeps me out.
Kate did a good job, but I could tell she was angling for the Cinderella role, and I found that annoying. Anyway, her clique of friends cheered her in an obnoxious way—not so much to praise her performance but to intimidate everyone else.
And then, eventually, Jenny called my name.
My stomach did some gold-medal gymnastics as I clumped down the steps to the stage. I got up there but then realized I was still holding the sheet music. (Note to self: Follow self-evident instructions.) I heard Jenny heave an exaggerated sigh, and I didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. Christy smiled sympathetically as I hustled to get her the music, and I tried to pretend that I still had a scrap of dignity as I remounted the stage.
Big breath, big breath.
“Hi, I’m Marty—Martha—Sullivan. Uh, I’m a freshman here. And I’m going to sing ‘I Can Hear the Bells’ from the musical
Hairspray
.” Sister Mary Alice watched me impassively. I cleared my throat, and Christy started to play. (A little slow for my taste, but, hey, what could I do?)
It went OK, I guess. Could have been worse.
When I finished, Mrs. Murray scratched furiously at her clipboard with her pen, her lips pursed. Sister Mary Alicekept her eyes on me, her face a complete blank. Then I realized that Xiang and the boys were clapping and cheering at the back of the theater, and a hiccup of a smile made
A big girl wearing bright orange socks hurried over to the piano. She gave Christy her music and climbed up onto the stage. I breathed a sigh of relief that they were going in order—how many names were ahead of mine? Thirty-five or so? God, that seemed like a long time—sitting and waiting, feeling like this . . .
“Hi, um, I’m Maria Kilkenny. I’m a freshman here, and I’m going to sing ‘There’s a Fine, Fine Line’ from the musical
Avenue Q
.” Ooh, excellent choice, I thought to myself. And then she opened her mouth—and I almost died.
She was amazing. She was, like,
professional
amazing.
I got chills listening to her. Then her monologue, something from
Sophie’s Choice
, was friggin’ perfect. I mean, oneminute we were watching a stocky Oaks girl in orange socks, and the next thing we knew, Meryl Streep was standing on our stage, remembering the Holocaust.
Then I just felt sick. Was everyone going to be this good? Suddenly this whole audition thing seemed like a really dumb idea.
But that sinking feeling was buoyed by the next person to audition, a little guy wearing a St. Augustine’s Prep letter jacket. He basically croaked his way through “Music of the Night” . . . or at least I think that’s what it was supposed to be. And his monologue, taken from one of the court scenes from
A Few Good Men
—well, let’s just say it wasn’t
convincing
. Halfway through, Xiang put on earphones and took her algebra problem set out of her green bag.
Fortunately for those of us still watching through our fingers, none of the following people were that bad. Also fortunately, they weren’t nearly as good as that Maria Kilkenny girl. There were some funny monologues and some pretty decent singers, and the choices weren’t bad—well, except for a Disney song or two. A few people missed cues and forgot lines, but I was impressed (or
de
pressed, I should say) by how good everyone was.
There was this one senior, Kate O’Day, who really stood out. Tall, skinny, and blessed with long, straight auburn hair, she could have been a supermodel, and she carried herself like one. She sang “Popular” from
Wicked
, a song she was perfect for, since it’s all about being pretty and, well, popular. Her monologue was from the montage at the end ofthe movie
Clueless
, when Alicia Silverstone realizes that she loves her stepbrother. Side note: No matter how much I love that movie (with all my heart and soul), or how cute Paul Rudd is in it (very extremely), the quasi-incest still creeps me out.
Kate did a good job, but I could tell she was angling for the Cinderella role, and I found that annoying. Anyway, her clique of friends cheered her in an obnoxious way—not so much to praise her performance but to intimidate everyone else.
And then, eventually, Jenny called my name.
My stomach did some gold-medal gymnastics as I clumped down the steps to the stage. I got up there but then realized I was still holding the sheet music. (Note to self: Follow self-evident instructions.) I heard Jenny heave an exaggerated sigh, and I didn’t have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. Christy smiled sympathetically as I hustled to get her the music, and I tried to pretend that I still had a scrap of dignity as I remounted the stage.
Big breath, big breath.
“Hi, I’m Marty—Martha—Sullivan. Uh, I’m a freshman here. And I’m going to sing ‘I Can Hear the Bells’ from the musical
Hairspray
.” Sister Mary Alice watched me impassively. I cleared my throat, and Christy started to play. (A little slow for my taste, but, hey, what could I do?)
It went OK, I guess. Could have been worse.
When I finished, Mrs. Murray scratched furiously at her clipboard with her pen, her lips pursed. Sister Mary Alicekept her eyes on me, her face a complete blank. Then I realized that Xiang and the boys were clapping and cheering at the back of the theater, and a hiccup of a smile made
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