Currently, I am curled up on the burgundy velvet sofa in my room. A calming cup of chamomile sits next to me, as my mind over-analyses my audition. Just a week ’till I find out if I got the part. It’s just a week…
A chill ran up my spine as the door shut behind me. The audition room was roomy. The only pieces of furniture were the rectangular mahogany table which had three chairs behind it. Two men occupied the chairs on the side. A woman sat between them. She had obviously teased her hair. It looked so voluminous, yet flawlessly shiny.
“Dylan Marvil, auditioning for Camillia Brown. You may start.” said the woman in a perfectly steady voice.
One of the men glanced at the script in front of him. “It’s been five years,” he said, “Five years I sought your forgiveness; five years I’ve spent looking for you.”
I carried all the emotion I could in my voice, “Ten years I’ve been alone.” I allowed my voice to shake at the end, conveying the pain Camillia would have felt.
The three of them glanced at me, obviously impressed. The man remembered he had a script to read after appreciating my acting skills.
He sighed. “I hate myself fo–“
“I think we’ve seen enough, Joe,” interrupted the woman. She glared at me directly with her piercing eyes, “You can go now.”
And with that, I turned around and opened the door with somewhat shaky hands.
“I like your coat, by the way,” added the woman before I left.
“Thank you,” I replied, then proceeded to walk out as gracefully as I possibly could.
The Pretty Committee crowded around me the moment I walked out, bombarding me with questions.
“Let the girl breathe!”ordered Massie. Kristen let out one of her famous cackles as Alicia just stood there, looking fabulous.
“I’ll tell you everything,” I assured them.
“Over hot chocolate, of course–this requires celebration,” added Kristen.
” I second that! ” Alicia said.
We walked into The Chocolate Bar. The comforting smell of chocolate and marshmallows filled the room, making the atmosphere all-the-more cosy. We sat by a wide window which overlooked the streets of Westchester. It allowed enough light in to give us a soft, angelic glow, yet blocked off enough light that it it wasn’t blinding.
“Okay, spill!” demanded Massie eagerly. I told them every little detail, as we sipped our cups of comforting magic.
“She said she liked your jacket?” gasped Alicia.
“I’m sure you’ll get the part, you can do any part perfectly!” jolted Kristen.
“Even a unicorn?” I asked, my voice filled with (sarcastic) hope.
“Even a unicorn.” Kristen said in a tone similar to that of which parents use when they tell their kids they’ll be president one day. She winked at me before smiling into her cup and taking another sip of hot chocolate.