Free Take The Stage By Storm: A Tina Storm Short Story (2) by Lissa Bilyk Page A

emotion
with my face and my voice.
    The first
rehearsal was OK. A gathering, a little get-together so we could
learn everyone’s name. Normally it doesn’t bother me when people
think I’m strange or aloof or hard to get along with. At my high
school, people thought I was a lonely nerdy bookworm. Mostly
because I spent a lot of time in the library researching the demons
I was hunting.
    This time
it bothered me. As
though I wanted to be a part of this group talking about harmonies
and method acting and other stuff I had no idea about, and other
things I did – like breath control and stretching.
    I was in
awe of the principal actors. They were all so confident and
beautiful and charismatic. The girls in my dancing group were all lithe and little,
the singing girls were loud and likeable - except for one sullen
brunette, hiding behind her vociferous personality and mediocre
voice. Not good enough to dance, she was put in the singing chorus.
Clearly she thought herself better than chorus material, and tried
to boss the other singers around. I tried not to judge.
    Then strange
things started happening.
    It was
almost like it was straight out of Phantom of the Opera . Things started to go missing – scripts
disappeared, bus passes mysteriously vanished from wallets with
cash left in tact. Accidents onstage were narrowly avoided. A light
fell off the rig and smashed into the stage floor, where a few
moments before, one of the chorus girls had been pirouetting. The
other girls freaked, and not just because she was Sarah’s
understudy. There wasn’t a backstage techie up there playing with
the lights, nor had they even been adjusted recently.
    Then, one
fateful day, S arah, our
beautiful blonde lead was hit by a car as she was leaving
rehearsal. It was speeding through the school zone, and she ended
up in hospital with a broken leg, broken ribs, and a smashed
face.
    Needless
to say, after a suitable period of mourning, we all expected her
understudy to take her place. But no.
    I wasn’t
the only one surprised to see the sullen brunette strut into the
auditorium one day, dressed in knee-high boots, a black leather miniskirt, and a
tight white t-shirt. Her hair swung brilliantly around her waist
and glittered with copper highlights. Her eyes shone piercing blue
as she took her place next to Nick, who seemed as surprised as
anyone to see her there. Her skin, previously suffering from mild
acne, was completely clear and glowing with its own luminescence.
She was beautiful and confident of her own place in the
world.
    The
director cleared his throat. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, the
role of Belle will be played by Julia Hathaway. We are all thinking
of Sarah and we hope she makes a speedy recovery. In the meantime,
let’s get to work!”
    Something
about Julia made my
spine tingle in a horrendously familiar way. While I had no doubt
she herself was human, I suspected foul play behind her
uber-makeover and Sarah’s hospitalisation. My suspicion increased
when she opened her mouth to sing: Suddenly she wasn’t simply loud
and airy, but controlled and strong with vibrato, a magnificent
range and beautiful timbre. It wasn’t her voice any more. It was
superb.
    T he problem was
her ego. I know decent singers can get up themselves, but this was
taking the piss. She seemed to think her sudden promotion to lead
actress made her some sort of demi-goddess. She assumed she was
entitled to applause after her solos (there weren’t many, but there
is only so many times one can listen to ‘A Change In Me’ without
going insane) and if she didn’t get that attention, she’d get
shirty and stomp offstage to sulk. The director spent most of his
time soothing her. It was ridiculous.
    But as
all this was playing out behind the scenes, I was researching in
the library, trying to figure out what kind of a demon would give
her a makeover and send Sarah to hospital (for I was sure there was
a link). A vengeance
demon or some sort of