Compatible, In an Incompatible Kind of Way part 5

"You were really good!"

"Nice job."

"You'll definitely get the part."

"You didn't look nervous at all!"

"You know, you even kind of look like Mandy Moore a little bit!" I smiled as people congratulated me on my audition and thanked them. Peter walked next to me, smiling slightly. He had auditioned shortly after me, and I couldn't believe how well he had done. He had done the same scene as me, but playing Landon instead of Jamie. He did better than Quinton had. As I had watched him, it had been as if I had just accidently walked into the conversation, and was witnessing a boy's heart break right in front of me as he found out about his girlfriend's cancer. I envied him for the fact that he hadn't had to sing. Now I was really worried. What if he got in, but I didn't? What would I do with myself?

As Peter sat with me later and we quickly did our homework so that we could write, I stopped every once in a while to stare at the wall, but not in my usual way, getting distracted with all my stories. No, now I was pausing out of worried thoughts. Peter looked up at me and scrunched his eyebrows, as if to ask, "What's wrong?" I shook my head in response, as if to say, "Nothing, nothing." But as Peter eyed me as we finished our homework, I knew that we were both well aware that it wasn't nothing.

The following day was the day when things really took a turn, for better or worse I would not yet find out. We walked into the school and I lagged behing Peter as he walked through the hallways to the casting list. I almost wished the teachers at this school would take as long to choose their cast as some other teachers do. Our school, however, tries to put on three plays or musicals each year, so the whole process is hurried along faster than at other schools, including the casting. Peter walks up to the door and and I look over his shoulder at the cast list.

High School Spring Play- A Walk To Remember

Jamie Sullivan- Victoria Stephens

Understudy- Lilly Jean

Landon Carter- Peter Holland

Understudy- Tom Phillips

Reverend Sullivan- Jake Matthews

Understudy- Phil Geoffrey

Cynthia Carter- Katherine Ginger

Understudy- Kelly Maya

Belinda- Seraphina Collins

Understudy- Lauren Vincent

Dean- George Stewart

Understudy- Jeff Lewis

Eric- Jonathan Lucas

Tracie- Patricia Mia

Walker- Billy Kenneth

Clay Gephardt- Henry Lucas

Understudy- Weston Falker

Mr. Kelly- Luke Jacobs

Dr. Carter- Heath White

Understudy-

I stopped reading after that. Reading the entire cast list wasn't really going to

make a difference in the fact that I had been cast as the lead. I took a deep

breath and looked at the bottom of the paper-

First Practice

Today after school in the Theater Arts Room-312

"Wow, Peter, Victoria, good job, you guys! You guys are gonna be awesome in

those parts," a red head girl named Seraphina, who had been cast as Belinda, said

to us with a wide smile. "Especially since you guys are so compatible. The love

between you guys is gonna be unbelievably realistic. I can't wait to work with you

guys!" She smiled widely and waved to us as the bell rang, hurrying off to her first

period. I walked next to Peter to our first class, shocked and horrified.

The school day passed slowly as I worried about play practice. When we finally

walked into the theater classroom after sixth period, it was filled with the cast.

Mrs. Kimple had to stand up on a desk to announce to the group that understudy

practice and discussion would happen in an hour and a half, after cast practice. The

grumbling understudies exited the room, wondering what to do for an hour and a

half as we practiced. The room was still crowded with people once all the

understudies were gone, but at least now there was a little more room to maneuver.

Mrs. Kimple asked everyone to please find a seat, and Peter and I ended up with a

lot of other kids on the floor. Mrs. Kimple handed a pile of scripts to Jake Matthews

and he passed them on. Eventually, everyone in the room had a script. We listened

quietly as Mrs. Kimple explained the legist of what was going to happen within the

time between now and the actual putting on of the production. After she finished

over the basics, she said to us, "Now, as I suspect you all now, we like to get things

done quickly in this department, so that we can have time for more amazing

productions in every year. So, official practice will start tomorrow. I would like to

ask that only characters labeled as "main characters" on the script come tomorrow,

but I expect everyone to be working on their scripts on their own. It will not be

acceptable for the smaller parts to come to their practices next week not knowing

any of their lines and not having practiced. Is that clear?" Everyone mumbled their

agreement and Mrs. Kimple nodded. "Good. Then I'll see all of you at your next

practice." She excused us to leave and called in the understudies. Peter and I

walked home and got straight to our homework. We finished quickly and I felt

like maybe we should start going over our lines, but Peter pulled out his notebook

and started writing, so I imitated him. I guess our first practice would be tomorrow.

At practice the next day, Mrs. Kimple did what she was best at doing- got straight to

the point. She had us spend the entire session memorizing our lines, because she

said she "didn't trust us to do it on our own time." She vowed that we would all

have our scripts memorized by the end of the week, which scared me deeply. Peter

and I sat in silence that night, reading the entire script over and over. When we

finally went to sleep that night, I already had a vague remembrance of all the main

scenes.

© 2010

I'm Flipping Out

One of my favorite books, (I still love it, even if it's a little out of my age range now,) Flipped, by Wendelin Van Draanen, is coming into theaters as a major motion picture in August! I didn't know anything about it and then I turned on my computer and WHAMMO! there was an advertisement for it! So I watched the trailer and it looks absolutely amazing. I cannot wait for it come out! (Ok, yea, I can, considering the wait will be part of my summer vacation, which I will be enjoying.) But anywho, I'm super excited!!! YAY!

© 2010

OHMYGOODNESSOHMYGOODNESSOHMYGOODNESS

I HAVE TO CHANGE MY SUMMARY OF MOI TO SAY THAT I AM AN ASPIRING AUTHOR IN HIGH SCHOOL OH MY GOODNESS I'M IN HIGH SCHOOL OH MY GOODNESS OH MY GOODNESS OH MY GOODNESS.

Dude, I'm starving. I'm gonna go get something to eat.

Ooh! I have Oreos! I looooooove Oreos!

© 2010

Compatible, In an Incompatible Kind of Way part 4

Dialogue for audition courtesy of movie A Walk To Remember, script

written by Karen Janszen

The theater was filled. Completely. I shook my head as Peter and I searched for a pair of empty seats. At any other school, this would never happen. At other schools, most guys who audition for plays are made fun of. Here, though, and for this particular play, you were made fun of if you didn't audition. Peter had seemed shocked when I had responded to Kelly Maya's inquiry of whether or not I was auditioning positively. I could tell he wanted to ask me the same questions I wanted to ask him, but he got an advantage over me as Kelly asked, "Oh really? I didn't think you would. What changed your mind?" I shrugged, "I don't know. I really like the movie. I don't think I'll get in anyway, so there's no reason not to audition. Besides, Peter's auditioning." Kelly nodded, "Ohhh, Ok. That's why." I frowned at her as she walked away and turned to Peter. His eyes had softened and his lips had curved upward just slightly in the corners. I wanted to say, "What?" but instead I looked at the floor, wondering why I was blushing.

There was one singing part in the play, and that was the part of Jamie Sullivan. I didn't really want to get into the play, and seeing as pretty much every girl in the junior and senior classes was trying put for the part, I figured auditioning for her would be my safest bet. Peter, too, auditioned for a main character, Landon Carter. I figured neither of us would get in and we could just go on with our lives. But as girls started auditioning, I felt myself wincing. I didn't have the voice of Mariah Carey or Alicia Keyes, but, according to visitors who heard my shower singing, I did have "a beautiful voice". I wasn't sure that it was exactly opera-singer material or anything, but it was certainly better than the singing spilling out of these girls. I was relieved when a few girls finally sang reasonably well, and one even better than Ms. Carey, but then they started acting. Apparently, at this school, it's one or the other, because none of them could act for the life of the, especially better-than-Mariah-girl. There were five of them, and two of them stood up there with their scripts, reciting the word emotionlessly, one recited the words emotionlessly memorized, one talked like she sang- with a beautiful, convincing voice but a completely blank expression, and the fifth, better-than-Mariah-girl, threw her arms about, widened her eyes to the size of golf balls, and practically screamed her lines into the audience. Everyone jumped back in their seats. When it finally came to my turn, my heart had dropped and my hands were shaking-not because I was scared of not getting in, but the opposite. I didn't exactly think the part of Jamie was pinned down to be mine, but I had a feeling that, with these options, I would definitely get a part somewhere in the play. I hadn't done a lot of acting outside of in-class productions and an acting camp I attended one summer before making an oath to never return, so I was hoping my lack of experience would work to my advantage. But, unfortunately, it was not my lack of skills in acting that inspired my hatred for acting camp, but the other campers. I was now horrified to remember that acting had almost came naturally to me. I had thought at the time that it made sense that I could act, since I was always pretending to be my characters and "acting" as them. Now, as I stepped onto the stage, I swallowed hard. "I'm Victoria Stephens," I said into the microphone, reciting the required introductory for everyone auditioning, "and I will be singing Only Hope by Mandy Moore." I moved slightly away from the microphone as I cleared my throat and nodded to the pianist. She played the first notes and I stepped back towards the mike, softening my eyes and raising my eyebrows slightly as I sang the first words, "There's a song that inside of my soul...It's the one that I've tried to write over, and over again...I'm awake in the infinite cold, but you sing to me over and over and over again, so I lay my head back down... and I lift my hands and pray, to be only yours, I pray, to be only yours, I know now, you're my only hope." I paused as the pianist ran her fingers quickly and skillfully down the keys, and I felt myself getting lost in the song I grew up listening to, "Sing to me the song of the stars, of your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again, when it feels like my dreams are so far... sing to me of the plans that you have for me over again. So I lay my head back down, and I lift my hands and pray, to be only yours, I pray, to be only yours, I know now, you're my only hope. I give you my destiny, I'm giving you all of-"

"That's enough, Miss Stephens," Mrs. Kimple, the drama teacher, cut me off. I blushed and nodded, hurrying towards the stairs that lead off the stage. "No, no, Victoria! You still have to recite your lines with Mr. Longway." I blushed brighter and nodded, "Oh, right, of course." I hurried back to the middle of the stage as Quinton Longway came out from backstage to go over my lines with me. He held out a script and I shook my head. He put it down beside him and turned to me, "I'll take you home, you'll be better to-" I cut him off, as Mandy had in the movie, "No, no, Landon! I'm sick." I paused. "I have leucemia." He laughed quietly, nervously, "No. You're-you're eighteen, you're-you're perfect."

"No, no. I found out two years ago and I've stopped responding to treatments." He looked down and paused. He looked up at me and I made my face appear as if I was trying to keep myself calm. "So why didn't you tell me?" I took a shaky breath in, "The doctor said I should go on, and live life normally," I motioned slightly with my arm, "as best I could, I-" I paused, "I didn't want anyone to be weird around me." I shrugged slightly, my eyes tearing. "Including me?" he asked, with slight anger. "Especially you!" I exclaimed in a shaky voice. I took a deep breath in, "You know, I was getting along with everything fine, I accepted it, and then you happened!" I looked up, tilting my head toward the ceiling, taking another deep, shaky breath in. "I do not need a reason to be angry with God," I said, my voice filled with tears. He brought his hand up to his hair in an expression of stress and I took another shaky breath before turning from him and running toward offstage, pretending to cry. I stopped running and turned to the audience, taking a breath in that was also shaky, but for different reasons. The audience broke out into applause and Mrs. Kimple nodded, releasing me to exit the stage. I hurried down the stairs and took my seat next to Peter.

© 2010

Compatible, In an Incompatible Kind of Way part 3

There was a light so bright there, I was almost afraid of becoming blind. It spilled over the rocks and reflected itself on the water, so that in front of us lay a spectacle so completely breathtaking, I had not the ability to think of anything other than the beauty of it. A gust of wind pulled my hair off my back and stirred my oxygen so that the breaths that came out of me were staccato and forced. Peter took my sweater off out of our bag and cast it over my shoulders, and I pulled my arms through the sleeves as Peter walked ahead of me, the straightness of his shoulders not effected by the bite of the wind that was as cold as the river. I could almost feel the presence of the people who had stood here before me. There words ran through my veins and there steps pounded in my mind. Peter sat down, pulled out his note pad, and clicked his pen.

Sunday I took Peter with my family down to visit my cousins, who lived a couple hours

away. The first time I brought Peter with me to visit relatives, they asked me over and over if

he was my boyfriend, even after I assured them multiple times that he was not. They kept this

up for a few more trips until they finally got the picture. Peter, like me, was always very polite

to my relatives, and responded to whatever questions they asked him as thoroughly as was

necessary in the situation, but he never engaged himself into conversation. Usually we just

ended up sitting next to each other on the couch in silence and listening to the chatter of the

family, creating our stories. Sunday was no different.

It was monday that changed things.

Peter drove me to school and nothing was different about the school from the outside. But

when we walked into the courtyard, we were shocked. There were life size cardboard cutouts of

of Shane West and Mandy Moore in the middle of the quad, movie posters of A Walk to

Remember, and flyers for play auditions taped to every locker and all over the empty wall space

between the lockers. "Hey, Victoria! You should audition!" Peri, a short girl with short hair,

called to me from across the hallway. I shrugged and smiled at her, and Peter grabbed a flyer

off the wall. I watched as he looked over it. He looked up at me and folded the flyer, sticking it

in his bag. I walked next to him to our first period and was surprised by his reply when Samuel

Gordon called out to him, "Peter! You gonna audition?" Sam was smiling widely and sappily

and I was about to roll my eyes when Peter said, "I think so." Sam nodded, smile still present,

"You definitely should! You'll nail Landon." I blinked at Sam. For some reason, 98% of the

student population recently decided that they love the movie A Walk to Remember. Why

they're discovering this now, a number of years after the movie was released, I shall never

know, but somehow they managed to convince the theater department to allow the junior and

senior classes to put on the play. The deal was, we write the script, we get the play. The kids

asked if they could get the movie script and use that, but the drama teacher teamed up with the

English teachers to refuse this proposal, insisting that script was in "movie format" and would

not work on stage. Which was somewhat true, but everyone knows it could have been edited

and the English teachers just really wanted us to write. I think most of the teachers didn't think

we would actually write it, but some kids sat down in front of their TV screens one night and

typed out all the dialogue of all the characters, and soon after that, some other kids sat down

and in between all the dialogue wrote all the actions the actors made as they spoke. Once the

whole movie had been typed out, some other kids took the typed-out-movie and formatted it

into "play format". The teachers then had no choice but to allow us to put on the play. I wasn't

shocked that the juniors and seniors were actually going through with it, or that they were so

excited about it, but I was surprised that Peter was going to audition. We walked into our class

and for the first time since I had met Peter, I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to ask him why he

was going to audition, since when did he act? I had so many questions, but now, I didn't want to

say them out loud. And it wasn't so much because I felt like I would be ruining something by

breaking the silence, but more that I wasn't quite sure how to format the questions. As we

walked into our homeroom and found play audition flyers on every desk, I picked one up and

looked it over. I glanced at Peter, then back at the paper, and decided that I wanted to audition

too. After all, what would I do if he got in? I knew I couldn't live a minute without him.

Maybe this could be interesting.

© 2010

Compatible, In an Incompatible Kind of Way part 2

WOW, I haven't written in this in a LONG time. As Russel would say, "No time like now to change that!" (I'm such a dork.)

Peter's room was dimly lit and always smelled like cinnamon and apples. Clothes littered the floor and Peter always played old Nirvana and Pink Floyd songs through his Mac lap top, which was always on his bed, plugged into charger. Every once in a while, a pop-up would come onto the screen that said, "You need to restart your computer," and the music would stop so that whatever note has been playing would repeat over and over until he pressed the restart button. I usually sprawled myself out on his bed, and he sat next to me as he kept the lap top by his feet so he could change the music every once in a while. We both preferred free hand, so we would just stay their together for hours, holding our notebooks, staring out in front of us and clicking our pens to write down any ideas we got that were worth saving.

I sat on Peter's bed and ran my brush through my long blonde hair. I used to have dark hair, but it bleaches with the sun and I decided not to dye it back, seeing as so many people in the world seem to long for natural blonde hair. As I run the brush through my hair, a million different scenarios play through my head of girls brushing their hair- modern stories, stories from the 80's, stories from the 1800's, stories from all different parts of the world. I caught Peter looking over from the corner of my eye and could almost see the same stories I was imagining reflecting back at me in his eyes. We both sat in our usual silence, watching as long strands of hair broke free from my scalp and knotted themselves with the brussels of my hairbrush.

Peter had a tendency of walking toward the door and pushing it open for me before leaving the room. He did this now, and I walked in front of him until we reached the end of the hallway, at which point I moved so that he could lead the way to whatever room he wanted to go to. He took me into the kitchen, and I sat down at the counter and closed my eyes, putting my head down on the marble countertop. It was cold and I listened to my breaths as Peter walked around the kitchen, making us food of some sort. After about ten minutes, he pushed a plate underneath my arm and I sat up and looked down at a sandwich. I smiled at him and took a bite, and he kept his same solemn expression as he sat down next to me and ate.

The following day was Saturday. Peter came to my bedroom door at 7 am and

knocked, and I jumped up in bed, startled. For whatever reasons, I had barely slept that

night, and when he came I was sitting in bed, staring at the wall and thinking about a girl

with long, black hair and a large amount of money on her name. I looked at Peter and he

held up his backpack. I got out of bed and realized I was wearing my silk pajamas. The lights

had been off in my room when I changed into them the night before, and Peter had been

showering in his bathroom. When he came out, I had already gotten under the covers, safely

out of his view. I felt like I should blush as I jumped out of bed in the pink silk short shorts and

lacy pink silk tank top, but Peter didn't even glance away from his backpack, which he was

searching through, as I hurried over to my closet. Peter wasn't like a brother to me at all. But

he was as close to me as I can imagine my brother and I would be if i had one. Maybe even

closer. ...In a distant sort of way.

© 2010

Frappuccinos Are My Life

I am a Starbucks addict. I don't go there that much, I wish I could go more. I believe that place is like the brand name of coffee shops. Makes sense, it's expensive and amazing. So I bought a frap, sipped it on my way home, came in the house, did some stuff, and then POOF! it was gone. I walked around the house searching for it and singing about it in a French opera voice. I did not find it. I was sad. Then, when my sister came home from somewhere unbeknownst to moi, she found it and gave it to me. I was very excited. Then I drank the rest. It was super yummy. And now I want another one.

© 2010