I stood backstage, shivering like I’d just eaten a slushie, and peeked through the curtain to look out at the crowd. I felt my hands get clammy and I fidgeted in my shoes, rocking back and forth as I held on to the curtain. Parents and kids were starting to take their seats, chatting and greeting each other as they filled the auditorium. This was it. My acting debut.
I’d texted Nia once more that afternoon during our dress rehearsal to see if she would be there tonight. I hadn’t heard back. I’d also asked Mom again if she thought Dad would be there, and she hadn’t gotten back to me, either. She simply texted back, “Good luck!”
Then my phone vibrated one more time:
I needed that note of encouragement. I stopped fidgeting for a few moments.
“June, wardrobe!” Mrs. Stevens called for me. I shut the curtain and turned back toward the right side of the backstage area, where the costumes were hanging. I had my hair pulled back behind a headband, with two high bunches that were round and full, similar to Diana Ross’s short Afro in the movie. My costume, a pale lavender dress, was pretty and moved with me for every turn. “Look at you,” Mrs. Stevens said. “Looking like a real Dorothy.”
I looked over and saw a kid wearing oversized shoes and baggy brown shorts. Patches of straw trailed him when he walked over. “How do I look?” Alvin said.
“OMG, I didn’t recognize you,” I said. “You look…kinda itchy. But amazing!”
“You look great,” Alvin said. “This costume is a bit warm, though. Hope I don’t slip on my own sweat.”
Inside, I swooned. Alvin thought I looked great! I hoped I would perform as good as I apparently looked. I glanced around at the entire production. Kids were dressed up like Munchkins or various animals. The Tinman walked by stiffly, wrapped in aluminum foil and wearing a silver pyramid-shaped hat. I even saw Lee dashing out from behind the scenes, helping put the finishing touches on parts of the background scrim. It felt like marbles were rolling around in my stomach. I was going to be onstage in less than ten minutes!
I looked for my book bag and reached for my phone again. I texted Nia.
Still no answer.
My stomach continued to flip-flop. I was now pacing around the backstage area, trying to get out some of the preshow jitters. Mrs. Stevens caught me talking to myself. “You okay, June?”
“Yeah, fine,” I said. Then I felt a sneeze coming on. Achoo!
Mrs. Stevens put a hand on my shoulder. “Relax, June. You got this. Deep breaths.”
I took a big inhale in, and let the air slowly seep out of my mouth. I tried to think about other things: the weather, key lime pie. And then a vision came to my head—I remembered the time during Christmas break when Alvin and I danced around my living room rehearsing, no one watching us, no Mrs. Stevens, no parents. I smiled to myself. I looked at Alvin across the backstage area. He gave me another thumbs-up.
I peeked outside through the curtains one last time to see if I could see anyone of note. And then I held my breath. There, in the front row, was my dad, sitting next to my mom. I smiled big and wide, thrilled that he had made it. I scanned the crowd in the rows behind him, wondering if I could recognize any other faces. Three rows above my parents, I saw Kevin Thomas’s mom and dad sitting together. I still didn’t see Nia. But the show had to go on.
At least my mom and my dad were there to support me. I started to relax in my shoes, and the house lights flashed once, then twice. I took a deep breath, and the music began. It was time to hit the stage.
I barely remember what happened during the first half of the musical—it felt like a blur. I know I danced and sang and I knew my lines and recited them just like I’d rehearsed. But I don’t remember feeling anxious when I was onstage. Instead, it felt like I had drifted to another world, like I had transformed into another person. I kind of felt like Victoria probably does—after all, she’s this ghostlike creature that transforms into a human and walks among us when she needs to flex her superpower. I was doing the very same thing—flexing my superpower to transform into an actress.
Time seemed to have stood still but also pass by in a flash, so I couldn’t believe it when I hit my last line of the first act. The cast shuffled backstage as the house lights came up and the crowd applauded. Intermission.
My heart was racing. I looked around and got caught up in the rush of the production—the change of set, the change of costume for the dancers before act two. Students were whizzing by to get to their next mark, or change clothes, or grab a sip of water before the curtain went back up.
A few minutes later, the house lights started to fade again, a signal to everyone to take their seats again as the show was about to restart. I took my place in the wings and got ready for our next number, the opening of act two. I took a peek from behind the curtain to check the audience once more. The music began and the curtain drew upward. Showtime.
We greeted the huge fire-breathing head Wizard, killed Evillene, and performed our big dance numbers to celebrate a brand-new day. We met the true wizard and discovered the heart for the Tinman and a brain for the Scarecrow were within them all along. I clicked my heels and I brought myself back home. And like that, the curtain dropped and the show was over. The thunderous applause filled the auditorium. I could hear every sound in the seats—my mom calling out my name, Mr. Thomas’s enthusiastic clapping. The curtain raised up again and the house lights turned on, so I could see the other students smiling at their parents. This felt like graduation—the joy, the hope, the pride—but it was a celebration of singing and dancing. My body had a wonderful tingly feeling, like excitement and happiness and clouds and sparkles and cotton candy all wrapped up around me. I’d done it—I’d gotten through the performance, and I’d loved every second of it!
“All right, back to the stage to take your bow!” Mrs. Stevens shouted to the cast.
The cast and crew rushed onstage and grabbed each other’s hands to bow. I looked around and took in the cheers and the happy faces of the rest of the cast. I spotted Alvin in the group—he gave me a thumbs-up and grabbed my hand to take our separate bow as the leads.
“Wooo-hooo!” the crowd bellowed. I heard a recognizable holler from the front row, a man in a suit alternating pumping his fists in the air and clapping. My dad was screaming over most of the crowd and pointing at me. “That’s my girl!” he said. “That’s my girl!” Mom stood next to him, her smile as big as her face. She gave me a wink.
I hadn’t felt this type of joy in a long time, not even after winning our last field hockey match. We came off the stage cheering and high-fiving, excited and proud. Mrs. Stevens gathered us over to one side. “That was excellent!” she declared. “I’m so proud of all of you. All that hard work during rehearsals really paid off. I could not have asked for a better performance.” We all cheered and nodded at each other. “Now go out and get your mamas and daddies and let’s celebrate opening night!”