The stories lie behind the red curtain, and these ones never end...
The bell rang, ending the argument between two friends. Drama class was over...
for the last time.
I wiped down the last of the blush brushes, left it in it's assigned box, and packed up all of our stage make up. Von, Zack, Keegan, Shane, Taylor, Ekolu, Katara, Alex, and all now former members of this class all slowly, eventually filed out of the room.
I stayed, the last one left in the cafe.
Rickety wheels of the cart rolled along as I pushed it into the girl's dressing room. I waited as Harvey eventually left as well, as I assured her I could finish packing up the make up alone. The door closed...
and solitude came.
Solitude. Sometimes the present and future overwhelm you to the point where solitude is a sanctuary. My mind was worn and weary, and solitude was my haven. I had just been broken up with by my boyfriend of nearly 8 months, discovered that I'm leaving in 18 days, and had been overworked by homework and theater. I had no sleep the night before... I was very tired.
I walked up the scuffed black steps to our stage, our dirty historical stage, and threw back the stained dusty curtain. Florescent lights exposed giant blocks stacked together, along with benches, chairs, and a handpainted backdrop of candy. Here... was our home.
I pushed back the side of the back drop, revealing our "backstage". I had decided that I was going to skip the last day of Biology to practice my Oratory performance in 7th Period English Graham. The backstage was my favorite place to practice to work on important homework when skipping. (I promise you, finishing important homework or projects are the only reason I would skip a class).
I dropped my bag on a bench lying to the side, and pulled out my paper. With my back to spare back-drop covered wall, I began reading the first line. "We are a generation technologically more advanced than any other..." I felt that my paper was excellent, but I needed to have it memorized by 7th period. Discouraged, I tried to memorize what I had just read. Silence had left, for it was Intermediate lunch time, and all of the walls echoed with the laughter and screams of the children outside the curtain. I couldn't focus. Not in this environment. In the back of my head I knew- this would be the last time I would be backstage.
If walls could speak... oh the stories these walls would tell.
Kahuku prizes itself in it's Football and Speech and Debate. It honors it's sports and funds everything else very little. Kahuku Drama is often left in the shadows, with poor funding and a tiny shabby stage. Yet students faithfully gather on this stage to release the creativity and expression inside of them. They come to be with fellow weirdies, to draw the attention they've always wanted, and/or to have that moment where the spotlight is on them. It's a club that has been my home all my time in Kahuku High.
The stories do not happen on the stage when the curtain is up and the spot light is on. The emotions are never portrayed as well as when the curtains are closed. The three hour show you will receive will never credit the stories and tears that brought this moment. For drama is family, yet the bonds that bind us are as weak as yarn. We have set up rules to keep us together, only to step on them in new situations. We all promised not to date inside the club, but in a year we were all paired up in our couples. Strange attracts strange, weird attracts weird. Our yarn braided into ropes.
But even rope can be cut.
After ten minutes of strained memorization, I gave myself a mental break. Sitting on the shabby bench next to my backpack, I noticed the words scribbled in pencil in large letters on the back-drop in front of me.
"Ceagan <3's Saren"
Maybe an intermediate scribbled it after a long day of practice. What would inspire one to write that, I'm not quite sure. It had appeared about a week ago, during the last play I would perform. Yes, things were good back then... we hadn't broken up yet. I don't know who wrote it, and the mispelling of keegan's name was naively adorable. Though our glass is now shattered and broken, it's nice to know that it looked beautiful when it stood.
I stared at the words for a while.
Then a strange idea came to me. I wanted to expose a little history to the future thespians that would have their own stories back here as well. I wanted to make a mark... and show what has happened.
The great stories happen behind the curtain and in the dark.
With no sharpie or pen, I used a lipstick I kept in my bag. With gentle strokes I first corrected Keegan's name, drawing a "K" over the "C" and fixing the "a" to an "e". Then with more emotion I crossed out the <3 and drew an arrow to it. Connected to that arrow were the words written with the dark lipgloss he hated.
"Keegan is just friends with Saren".
Whether the <3 was true or not shouldn't matter anymore.
Relationships have blossomed and wilted as Drama continued. Friendships have burned and sizzled. Life continued as fiercely as Spring and Winter. The things that have happened, the pain these bonds have caused, and the frustrations felt are more theatrical than any other production on this stage.
If walls could talk, they'd tell of the high school stories that keep us up at night. I've loved Drama, and have no regrets being in it. It's been an adventure, but yet it's been my safe place. It's been the most accepting retreat in the whole school. I will always remember the moments that have emerged because of it, just as all of us will with the stories of your own.
High School Never Ends... (mentally, that is)
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