Scene 8

The next day, I take a huge breath before we start our small group rehearsals. I guess I’ll find out how I can be Maya the Assistant Director when we split into our groups.

I’m trying to remember what Irene Brown told me about directing and all the things I read in the book. How I have to be less . . . directive. Which still seems super weird. But as we’re slowly working on scenes, even though all the other campers have memorized their lines, something just seems a bit off. Like there’s something missing, or a prop isn’t in the right place. I can’t figure it out.

I decide to focus on one thing I know isn’t working; Gio’s entrance. How do I tell him to change what he’s doing without . . . telling him? This assistant directing stuff is hard! I think about Irene Brown, and how she usually starts our chats by asking me a question.

“Gio, how are you feeling about your entrance?”

Gio shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“Could you make it bigger? More dramatic?” I suggest. I don’t think that’s the real problem, but maybe it will make whatever the problem is more obvious. We’ve already run the scene a couple times and everyone seems ready to move on, but I just can’t. The scene doesn’t feel right.

Gio sighs. “Okay, fine, but I’m pretty sure I did it more dramatic last time.”

We start the scene from the beginning. I imagine the lights coming on, the curtains parting, each character coming onto the stage for the audience. I watch as each camper enters the scene. Then Gio moves into the scene and I see it—right there, Carine is just out of character for the briefest moment as she shifts around on the stage, trying to find where she has to stand. She flips her hair off her shoulder as she gets into position.

“Hey, uh, Carine?”

“Yeah?” She turns to me, her brown hair swirling around her.

“You need to stay in character when you’re moving to your spot.”

“I am,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“No, you—” I stop for a moment, thinking about how to explain it to her without being rude, without breaking my own rules. In a way that would be more like a director. Irene Brown said every detail doesn’t need to be perfect, but this one feels important. “You flip your hair. Like this. Your character, uh, Trix, she wouldn’t do that. She has a hat on.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice.” She pulls a scrunchie off her arm and puts her hair up in a bun. “There, is that better?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect!” I say, bringing out my biggest smile.

We run the scene again from the top, and Carine doesn’t flip her hair this time. Gio’s entrance is bigger, more obvious. Everyone else remembers their lines and their spots on the imaginary stage. I smile, thinking about how the scene looks. It feels perfect.

“Five . . . four . . . three . . . please . . . two . . . one . . .”

“Hello?”

“J-Jules! Oh! Finally!”

“Maya, hi.”

“It’s been so long since we talked, I just couldn’t believe it. That was super weird, right?”

“. . .”

“Jules?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, what’s up?”

“Oh, I—I just . . . I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, I have to go in a minute.”

“Go? But we just started talking. This is always when I call. We used to talk for hours.”

“I have to take care of Bà Linh tonight, Maya. I don’t have time to listen to you.”

“Did I do something wrong? Are you . . . are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m—look, I have to go now, okay? I’ll talk to you later.”