Practice Doesn't Always Make Perfect

Cautiously, Hanna picked her way through the crowded hallways of her high school. Keeping her head down and her eyes trained firmly on the floor, she mumbled barely audible excuses to her peers as she crept past. None of them seemed to notice her, but at least with her head bowed she couldn’t see how they stared at her with their haughty expressions. 

Above her head, the school speakers crackled to life with the overly-enthusiastic voice of Carol Reems. “Fellow Lincoln High students! Remember that the cast list for the spring musical was posted this morning. Let’s break a leg!”

Drawn to the far end of the hallway, Hanna continued sliding past people, brushing her elbow against a few thick backpacks stuffed with textbooks. Wincing in pain as she collided head on with one such bag, she stumbled back a pace, blinking in surprise. “S-Sorry,” she managed, pushing past the tall boy who blocked her way. 

Finally reaching her destination, Hanna faltered. Nothing would make her happier in life than to be part of the spring production. It was her senior year and she wanted to take a few risks, make herself gain a little confidence before college. Though, truth be told, it was all her mother’s idea. She worried about Hanna going off to college without learning how to look people in the eye, without being able to tell people what she wanted to say.

Hesitantly, Hanna raised her eyes a few centimeters and stared at the corked bulletin board.

Few things in life were fair, Hanna knew, but she had been so looking forward to seeing her name in black flowing script on the cast list pinned up on the wall. Hanna swiped at her face, the scratchy wool of her sweater causing her eyes to water in irritation. Salty tears beaded on her eyelashes. How could she not have made the list, even as an extra? 

She had studied for days! Every afternoon once school let out, she took a shuttle bus to the local library. Until 6pm when her dad picked her up in his beat-up minivan, she devoured every book the library had on acting. She knew the techniques inside and out. Surely that counted for something!

Swallowing down her tears, Hanna backed away from the board, shaking her head in disbelief. 

She recalled her audition perfectly. For weeks, she had practiced in the mirror in her bedroom, mouthing the words until they felt natural coming from her mouth. When no one else was home, she even practiced her delivery. Her diction and pronunciation were perfect!

But the audition…

Hanna shuddered just to think of that horrid day. Sitting in the rows of theater seats in the auditorium, she tried to ignore all the students talking around her. Each one of them was positive they would land a starring role in the musical. They held scene scripts loosely in their hands, smiling carefree at one another. She wondered to herself then if some of them even knew what the production was about. They certainly didn’t seem as prepared as she was.

One by one, Hanna watched her classmates go up on stage and fumble through the lines, eyes darting down to the scripts every five seconds. As if they had never read the material before. 

Grinning to herself, Hanna tried to make herself relax. She had this in the bag. 

“Hanna Reems,” the director called out, scratching his head with the end of his pen. He glanced sadly at his empty coffee mug sitting on the table. These auditions always took too much time.

Squaring her shoulders, Hanna climbed the steps onto the blacked out stage. “This is my castle,” she muttered to herself, practicing one last time the opening line, “and you were not invited to the ball!” 

“Are you ready, Hanna?” The director, her science teacher Mr. Hob asked. “You can begin when you take your place center stage.” 

Nodding, Hanna lowered her hand to her side, knowing she wouldn’t need to glance at the script. “This -” she muttered, her voice soft inside the huge auditorium. Bashful, she cleared her throat, trying to play her sudden nervousness off as a warm up exercise. 

“This is my -” Hanna tried again. Her voice faded off. Mr Hob glanced up from his notes, a furrow of tiredness creasing his brow. Shaking her head, Hanna giggled, a high noise rising from deep in her lungs. “I’m okay,” she squeaked. 

“It’s alright, Hanna,” Mr. Hob replied after a few more failed attempts at delivering the lines. “Thank you for coming.” Waving his hand in the direction of the stage stairs, he nodded, giving her a chance to clear the stage for the next student. 

Slowly, Hanna felt her feet follow the path, going heavily down each step. 

Now, backing away from the judgemental bulletin board, Hanna found herself blinking in disbelief. Surely there had been a mistake! She knew the lines better than anyone. With a jolt of decisiveness, she turned on her heel, pushing more forcefully through the crowded hallways. It was simple, she thought, she just had to prove to Mr. Hob that she should be in the show.

Why should it matter if sometimes she couldn’t get the words she planned so carefully in her mind to come out of her mouth? She would practice harder, that was all. Every problem could be solved through practice and sheer determination.

Those few friends who knew Hanna well would have described her as ‘quiet’. Never likely to be outspoken. Too afraid to tell others what she really thought for fear she’d be judged. They also had told her, many times, that she overthought every situation, dreaming up the worst possible conclusions until she was too tied up in knots to find a way out.

Suffice to say, if they hadn’t been in classes of their own at the moment Hanna strode through the halls of Lincoln High, they would stare at Hanna as she passed by, wondering where their shy friend disappeared to. 

Coming to Mr. Hob’s classroom, Hanna took a deep breath. Knocking softly on the wooden door to announce her presence, she opened the door another few inches until she could peek her head through. “Mr. Hob,” she began softly, noting that he was sitting alone at his desk, bent over a stack of papers. 

I’d like to talk to you, she thought, the words stuck in her throat. If you have a moment. I know I didn’t showcase myself well at my audition, but I’d really appreciate it if you could give me another chance. You see, I’ve spent the past month researching and practicing the script. I really think I could be a useful addition to the cast. Please, if you could try to find a place for me, even a small role, I’d be grateful.

Hanna breathed out, waiting for a response that would never come. She stood in the doorway another moment, trying to get up the courage to present her well-prepared speech. She knew Mr. Hob was nice, and if he could, he’d give her a role. Maybe a job helping with the set at least. All she had to do was say the words.

But some words are easier thought than said aloud.