Chapter Four: A New Stage
The decision to leave Chicago hadn't come lightly.
One spring evening, James overheard his parents at the kitchen table. Bills were stacked in a neat pile, and his father rubbed his temples.
"Michael, this is a real opportunity," Helen said, her voice firm but hopeful. "St. John's in Los Angeles is offering me nearly double my current salary. Better hours, too. We wouldn't have to stretch every paycheck just to get by."
Michael adjusted his glasses, frowning at the numbers in front of him. "I know. It's just—Chicago is home. And what about my job?"
Helen hesitated, then said gently, "You've been teaching for twenty years. You love your students, but… lately you've seemed so tired. You keep saying you don't have the energy for another round of grading essays until midnight."
Michael exhaled slowly. "You're not wrong. I always wanted to do more with words than just red-ink them on papers. Maybe… maybe it's time for something different."
That "something different" came in the form of a letter a week later: a small publishing house in Los Angeles was looking for an editor with a background in literature and education. The salary wasn't extravagant, but it was steady—and it meant Michael could still work with words, without the endless classroom fatigue.
Helen's eyes lit up as she held the letter. "It's perfect. You'll still be surrounded by books. And we'll both have stable jobs."
James, listening from the stairs, nearly trembled with excitement. Both of them in L.A. That's it. That's the door opening.
---
A New Beginning
By late summer, the Williams family was unpacking boxes under the California sun. Their new neighborhood was lined with palm trees swaying in the warm breeze. The air smelled of salt from the ocean carried inland.
James carried in a box of books, sweat running down his temple. His black hair stuck to his forehead, but his green eyes sparkled as he looked out the window at the distant skyline. This was more than a move. This was fate pushing him closer to the stage he'd always dreamed of.
"Jamie, grab that box from the car, will you?" Helen called, her scrubs already folded neatly into a drawer.
"On it, Mom."
Michael joined him by the car, adjusting his glasses. "Well, son, here we are. The City of Angels. Your mom gets her hospital, and I get my mountain of manuscripts to edit. No more late-night essays for me."
James grinned. "Sounds like a win for everyone."
Michael chuckled. "Let's hope so."
---
First Days at a New School
The high school campus looked more like a college compared to what James had left behind. The buildings were pale stucco, the hallways buzzing with hundreds of students who looked like they'd stepped out of magazines—sun-kissed, confident, effortlessly stylish.
James walked through the crowd, clutching a map of the school. He felt like an outsider, though his sharp green eyes made some students glance twice.
In his first class, the teacher introduced him quickly. "Class, this is James Williams, transfer from Chicago. Make him feel welcome."
A boy in the back muttered, "Chicago, huh? Hope you can survive L.A." Laughter rippled, but James only smirked. "I'll manage," he said coolly, earning a few surprised looks.
At lunch, he sat alone at first, observing. Then his eyes landed on a booth decorated with colorful posters: Drama Club – Auditions Coming Soon.
His chest tightened with excitement. Without thinking, he stood and walked over.
"You interested?" asked a girl with curly hair, handing him a flyer.
James signed his name immediately. "More than interested."
She smirked. "Confident,I like that. We'll see if you can back it up."
---
The auditorium was larger and brighter than his old one in Chicago. During auditions, James stood center stage and let Puck's mischievous words spill from his lips with playful charm.
When he finished, the faculty director leaned back, impressed. "Well, well. Looks like the new kid has talent."
From the wings, Lisa—the curly-haired girl—crossed her arms and smirked. "Not bad, Chicago. Not bad at all."
James shrugged with a grin. "Guess I'll take that as a compliment."
---
Moving to Los Angeles gave James a new determination. If he wanted to survive here—competing with hundreds of kids chasing the same dream—he needed to be ready.
Every morning before school, he laced up his sneakers and jogged through the neighborhood, palm trees swaying overhead. At home, he pushed himself with sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups on the doorframe until sweat soaked his shirt. His body, once lanky, was slowly gaining definition.
"Since when are you an athlete?" Michael teased one evening, leaning on the doorframe.
"Since I realized roles don't always go to the guy who just talks well," James said, breathless but smiling.
Helen handed him a glass of water. "Don't overdo it, Jamie. You're still growing."
"I know," James said between gulps, determination flashing in his green eyes. "But I want to be ready."
---
That night, James sat by his window, muscles sore but heart alive. Beyond the houses, the skyline glowed faintly against the dark. Somewhere out there, scripts were being read, cameras were rolling, and lives were changing.
I'm here now, he thought. No excuses. This time, I'll reach it.
—