Little Do We Know(26)
“Emory Kern.”
I dropped my phone in my backpack as quickly as I could and stepped into the aisle. I threw my shoulders back as I walked to the stage, hoping I looked confident and prepared, because I didn’t entirely feel it. Before I left the theater, I stole a quick glance at Hannah’s doppelg?nger.
Inside the audition room, Mr. Waterman was seated in the center of a long table, with two women on either side of him. He thanked me for coming as I took my spot on the big black X directly in front of them.
“Thank you. My name is Emory Kern and my first piece is from The Blair Witch Project.”
I took my gray wool cap from my back pocket and pulled it over my head, down low, until it brushed my eyebrows. I began breathing, fast and hard, making my hands tremble and my shoulders heave, so when I spoke the first words my voice would already be clipped and shaking.
I began speaking slowly and evenly, delivering each word exactly the way I’d practiced, but soon, I was no longer standing in a room on the UCLA campus. I was gone, completely absorbed into the world of the Blair Witch, where I’d spent days walking a path that led back to the exact same spot. My nose was running and tears were sliding down my cheeks as I delivered my final line: “I’m going to die out here.”
I let the silence build in the room. And then I stood up straight and looked all three of them in the eyes, one at a time. “Thank you.” And then I smiled much larger than I’d intended to. Because inhabiting Heather’s body and mind like that had been nothing short of exhilarating. And because I knew I’d nailed it. I returned to the theater feeling pumped with adrenaline and slightly sick to my stomach.
“Meredith Pierce,” a woman’s voice said, and the next person walked past me.
Back at my seat, I reached into my backpack for my water bottle, my fingers still trembling as I worked the cap and brought it to my mouth. I took giant gulps, feeling the cold water slide down the back of my throat.
“What did you read?” the guy next to me asked, and I told him between sips of water. “Ah, great flick. I’ve seen it, like, twenty times.”
“Me too.”
I’d watched it twice in the last two days alone, first on Wednesday, in bed on my iPhone, and then on Thursday, when Mom mentioned at dinner that she’d never seen it before. I forced her to sit on the couch with me with a bag of microwave popcorn between us. She thought it was terrifying, but I’d seen it so many times, I barely flinched.
I was feeling good, but nervous, watching people continually leave the room and return a few minutes later. And once everyone was finished with their first pieces, Tess started calling everyone’s name a second time.
“Megan Kuppur,” she began. “Carin Lim,” she said a few minutes later. And she went on while my heart pounded. I took deep, slow breaths, listening for my name to be called again. When I felt my phone vibrate, I jumped in my seat. I dug it out of my bag and read the screen.
Addison: Call me as soon as you can.
Addison: It’s important.
I did a quick scan of the room, now that I knew the order, and tried to estimate how much time I had to sneak away and make a quick call. I decided I couldn’t chance it. There were only six people in front of me.
A few minutes later, I heard, “Emory Kern.” I wasn’t ready, but I shook it off and walked toward Tess anyway, saying my first lines in my head, over and over again.
Think not I love him. Think not I love him. Think not I love him.
I scanned the theater for Hannah’s double again, but she must have already performed her second piece, because she was gone.
Inside the audition room, I threw my shoulders back and smiled wide. “I’m Emory Kern. For my second piece, I’ll be reading from William Shakespeare’s As You Like It.”
The woman sitting next to Mr. Waterman had a kind smile. “We’re ready whenever you are, Ms. Kern.”
I shook out my hands. I rocked my neck to each side. I let out a slow, even breath. And then I stood there quietly, inhaled, and began. “Think not I love him, though I ask for him. ’Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well. But what care I for words?”
I kept going, my voice loud and clear and exactly the way I’d practiced. When I got to the last few lines, I turned it up, projecting my voice, feeling each word leave my body. I was almost done, and I was nailing it. I said the last line, “Wilt thou, Silvius?” and I let it linger in the air before I gave the admissions team a small smile, bowed, and said, “Thank you.”
I fell into my seat and reached for my water bottle and my phone at the same time. I called Addison. She picked up on the first ring. “Hey. How did it go?” she asked.
“Good. Is everything okay there?”
“Sort of. Luke got hit and he went down hard. He didn’t get up for a full minute. But he seems to be okay now. Dad thinks it’s a broken rib from the way he was holding his side when the coach led him off the field.”
“Are you with him? Can I talk to him?”
“The team doctor is checking him out. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing.”
I checked the time. Charlotte, Tyler, and I had planned to go shopping at a nearby mall and get dinner while we waited out the traffic. “I can come straight home, but it will still take me a couple hours to get there.”
Addison didn’t sound concerned. “Really, he told me to tell you not to rush back. He’s planning to go home on the team bus, so he won’t be home any earlier anyway.”