Rehearsals aren’t as bad as I thought they would be. They’re worse.

“Rena and Baylee? Good, you’re here.” Miss Weller is standing at the door of the auditorium, checking off names. She clearly has no idea how upset I am about the tryouts and the parts. She’s just checking my name off her list, another one of the minor roles is here, go get your script, you’re in scenes 3, 7, and 18.

“Maid 1, Maid 2, here are your scripts.” Chaya’s brandishing two stapled booklets like trophies. We head over to the small cluster of girls sitting on the edge of the stage, legs swinging. Baylee flips through the script briefly and then settles down to read it, beginning to end, but I take out a highlighter and begin combing through each scene, highlighting my lines.

“That’s a great idea, Rena,” Shaindy says, coming over. She grabs my script and holds it up high. “See everyone? While you’re waiting, you can start highlighting your part and practicing your lines. Remember, we’ve only got a few weeks until the production, and the sooner everyone knows their parts, the sooner we can get to rehearsing for real, no scripts. It’s going to be the best play ever!”

Everyone cheers. Someone starts chanting, “We’ve got play heads like no one’s got, Chayaaaa, Shaindyyyy….”

I take my script back from Shaindy and flip back to the beginning. I’d lost count of my lines when she took it.

Where was I – 14, 15?

I go through the entire script, slowly, beginning to end. 22 lines. That’s it. I count Baylee’s — 20. She has less lines than me, but some of them are longer. We’re in four scenes. The play is 14 scenes long.

I start to count Lucia’s lines. I lose track at 163, when Chaya claps her hands for attention and the buzz of noise dies down.

“O-kaaayyy! Hi, everyone!! I just want to remind you that it’s so, so, so important to make sure that you come on time to all…”

I need air. Muttering “I’ll be a minute” to Baylee, I slide off the stage and head for the door.

Miss Weller is standing nearby, looking through some papers. She looks up sharply as I attempt to escape. “Rena? Where are you going?”

Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize this was class.

I bite back the sarcastic response and just shrug. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

She comes closer. “Rena, I’m sorry, but we can’t just have people walking in and out of practice. It makes things very difficult for the play heads. If you go, what’s stopping ten other girls from taking a break, too? Especially today, Chaya and Shaindy have lots of things to tell all of you, and they can’t repeat everything over and over.”

“It’s fine. Baylee will fill me in.”

Miss Weller shakes her head. “They’re going to start running through the script soon, we need you to do your part.”

“Yeah, totally. Like my part makes a difference.” Angry tears jump out from behind my eyeballs, and I swat them away. Ugh, this is not what I need right now.

“Every part matters,” Miss Weller says, her voice softening. “And we chose you for the play because we know you’ll do a great job. Why don’t you start learning your lines and make the most of today’s practice?”

Learning my lines. Yeah, right.

All 22 of them.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 890)