"Sm!! I haven't marked my attendance," one of my group members said as he walked up to me.
"Twenty-three."
"Alright, it's marked."
He thanked me before going to sit among the rest of the group, and I walked toward my director and his assistant on stage.
"Kindness, you called for me?" I said—more a statement than a question.
"Yeah," he replied, glancing up from his notes. "I wanted to tell you that our artistic director will be coming from Saturday to assist us with our project… if that's cool with you."
"Which artistic director?… Ezekiel?" I asked.
Okay, pause.
This is where it all starts.
Hi. My name is Amelia, I'm twenty, and a student at Valley View University. I'm in my second year (a proud sophomore, thank you very much), and right now, I'm having rehearsals for a production—or let's say, our performance exam.
You must be confused by what I mean by "performance exam." Well, I'm a Theatre Arts student. That explains it… I think.
Anyway, let's rewind to what made me start this whole conversation.
*****
I was a freshman a year ago. After three weeks, we started induction—a tradition that's apparently been passed down for generations in our department (so they say).
It was fun… and a little crazy.
We were trained like soldiers. I'm serious. Soldiers.
Our inductors were mostly fourth-years, with a few third-years sprinkled in. They were chosen by the student union or something. (I'm not great with remembering details. I think I have short-term memory loss or maybe selective memory—either way, don't quote me on it.)
During the induction process, I didn't really notice him—my artistic director—but I loved his directing style.
I actually liked the assistant artistic director more at the time… though I can't remember his name now. (Don't blame me; he was fine.)
Oh, and I also had a tiny bitty crush on my then dance coordinator, stage name Marvin lee.
And maybe the music instructor too.
Look, it's not my fault! Our inductors were all hot and talented.
We had female inductors too, though, for balance… I guess.
Anyway. One day during induction, my dad drove me back to school after I visited home for a while, and that's when I learned that he—the artistic director—had been one of my dad's students back when Dad did his master's in Theatre Arts here.
My dad was like, "Ah, Ezekiel? That boy was one of my brightest."
I was supposed to get close to him, but I didn't have the nerve. I don't know how to talk to people. I'm an introvert to the core. So… I stayed in my corner, admired from afar, and pretended it didn't bother me.(Also, it's kinda his fault too. He could've taken me in as his school daughter or something, tch.)
We did the induction and it was wonderful. It was tagged the best induction ceremony in the last five years.
******
Fast forward to second semester of year2.
Two weeks into the semester, we were grouped into four different groups by the lecturer in charge of our course THA208.
Furthermore, I was put into group 4 whereby English students are part of the group (because the English students will be divided in year3 into 2 departments, literature and whatever the second one is. for this reason, they are borrowing this course for experience which is required for them).
After we were grouped. The lecturer inquired if anyone wants to volunteer to be the Director of the group which no one came up then I raised up my hand to volunteer. I know, I know. I am crazy!!
However, the current director for my group (kindness) raised his hands too after I did and he got picked as the director for the group project while I was made the stage manager.
During three weeks of starting the rehearsal for the play we are going to perform. Kindness and I noticed our group members were unserious.
They were acting like literal babies. Like, we needed to count our fingers to give them the answer to a simple math question.
My role as stage manager suddenly felt less about counting heads and more about managing a ticking time bomb of apathy.
Kindness, bless his patient heart, had done his best. He'd tried coaxing, cajoling, even a little light bribery with promises of better roles in future productions. But our group members remained stubbornly… unfocused. They'd show up late, glued to their phones, offering creative suggestions like "Can we just do a dance challenge instead?" It was demoralizing.
Conclusively, we invited some of our seniors who were still in school over to help with the directing and see their own perspective of the play and stuff but there is still no progress!!! Who am I to blame though? My group members are one of the notorious people in my class. I wish I hadn't missed the first class and grouping for this course, maybe then I wouldn't be grouped with these people.
****
"which artistic director?... Ezekiel green?" I asked again. Don't blame me. I need to confirm, you know...
"Yeah," Kindness nodded, "I talked to him about our group's situation, and he said he's willing to help. So I told him when we'd be available for a full-day rehearsal."
"Alright, that's fine by me". I said, pretending to be chill while my stomach did a mini drum roll.
By late afternoon we finished the rehearsal as we round up and some people stayed to clean the stage while I took attendance of everyone again [lecturer's order because of those that leave after taking the first attendance].
Then I walked home with a few group members toward the school gate.
(I didn't get a hostel inside campus. Sad life.)
By the time I got home, I was very exhausted. I went straight to the bathroom to shower.
When I came out, I saw my cousin lounging on her bed.
We live together—because our parents thought it was a good idea since we attend the same university. Also, a family friend's daughter stays with us "to watch over us," since she's older and apparently more responsible.
"What's up? You just got home?" I asked.
"Nah, I've been home since noon," she said.
"By the way, I cooked pasta. You must be starving." she added.
I didn't need a second invitation.
I thanked her, dashed to the kitchen, grabbed my portion, ate, and passed out on my bed after doing some paperwork.