Free Finding June by Shannen Crane Camp Page A

names for things,” Benjamin
said, looking confused at the mere mention of these supposedly odd
nicknames.
    “Like what?” I asked. I was actually pretty
interested in what new vocabulary I’d pick up on set. That, and I
really wanted something to distract me from my nerves.
    “Well, like clothespins. They call them . . .
what is it, Benjamin?” Ryan asked, snapping his fingers as if that
might help him remember.
    “C47s . . . or C42s . . . I'm not sure. I
know it has the letter C in it though.”
    “Right! Why not just call them clothespins?
Is it really that much easier to say C47?” Ryan asked, to which I
just shrugged. Benjamin looked like he had thought of a clever
response for Ryan, but he was silenced when Mr. Hill stood up at
the table to indicate we’d be starting the table read.
    “Okay, so today we’ll read the script for
episode ten in season six, titled ‘Vaudeville Vice’,” he said
stiffly, looking like he’d done this so many times that it now
bored him to have to be here. “We’ve got a new face with us today,”
he said, instantly making my stomach churn. “Give a little wave,
June.”
    I waved nervously at the room full of faces
I’d seen every Thursday night for years. Joseph and I watched the
show every week, never missing an episode. And now we’d be watching
me. This was all so weird. As I looked at the people surrounding
me, I started to feel like maybe I could do this. Everyone seemed
to be smiling, except for Joann—she just wore an expression of
pained boredom. I couldn’t tell if she had spaced and didn’t hear
Mr. Hill ask me to say hello, or if she just didn’t care and
therefore didn’t acknowledge my existence. Whatever the answer was,
I was glad that everyone else seemed happy to see me. This might
not be too bad after all.
    After my brief introduction, we began the
table read. I didn’t have a single line until halfway through the
script, so I let myself get lost in everyone else saying their
lines. It was so bizarre to see all of the characters around me,
acting like they were in character, but not actually moving around
and doing the things they were talking about. It took me a few
pages to get used to the actors saying lines like their characters
would, but then breaking character to look at one another, laugh at
a line they had said wrong, or ask a question about how a scene
should be played. It didn’t feel like watching actors playing a
character; it felt more like the people I had seen on TV all these
years suddenly stepping out of their typical personalities.
    The first half of the script seemed like a
normal episode of Forensic Faculty . I was actually in the
very first scene, but all I did was scream. I was supposed to be
onstage during a performance; the "lovely assistant" to my magician
co-star. In the scene, he steps into our disappearing man trick (a
large painted box on the stage) and instructs me to close the box.
I wait and make a few grand gestures before reopening the box, only
to have my co-star’s body fall out—dead as a doornail. Then I
scream and the opening credit sequence rolls.
    There was someone sitting near Mr. Hill
saying all of the non-speaking parts of the script. He was a mousy
little man with thinning hair and thick-rimmed glasses, but he
spoke his part with gusto. He read the descriptions, actions, and
settings between dialogue to give the cast some exposition for the
scenes.
    After my mostly silent opening scene, the
cast fell comfortably into reading their lines. The case of Edward,
my dead co-star, made its way to the detectives, where Rich and
John (played by Ryan and Benjamin) made a few cracks about
vaudeville being dead. I had to stifle a laugh at the easy way they
said their quick back-and-forth remarks across my seat between
them, but was quickly silenced by Anna’s terrifyingly powerful
voice as she read in character as Captain Juliana Ryder. Her
British accent had vanished completely. The captain was, of