PLOT

[olive monroe]

What a beautiful space... Olive thought to herself as she entered through the large double doors that sealed the Penelope Ward Memorial Theatre. It was one of the newer parts of the school, and Olive really wasn't certain if she was allowed to be there or not, but she decided that she'd take a chance. Her small grey eyes grew wide as she took in her new surroundings. She looked towards the back of the theatre, and noticed the number of brand new seats, all fully cushioned in a red material that ressembled velvet. She resisted the urge to go sit in one of the chairs, even though they looked incredibly inviting.

A chill came through the room, causing Olive to hug herself, rubbing her own arms to try to warm herself up. She turned and looked to the stage. It was lovely, really. She had heard that the dressing room spaces were just as nice as well. As she looked, she imagined a dancer up onstage. She knew that the dancers were eager to dance in the space-with the newly sprung floors and all. She glanced down at her feet, or her shoes rather-red vans. They were new, and she was just a little bit in love with them. She bent over, making her upper-body have to deal with the cold as her arms fell down to her sides, her hands quickly finding their way to her shoes to untie the little white laces. She was planning to go up onto the stage, and figured that it would be best to take her shoes off. She didn't want to be the student responsible for messing up the brand new flooring. Flooring that probably costed thousands of dollars, which she knew she couldn't repay.

She set her shoes in front of one of the brand new chairs, and walked along the front of the stage until she reached the small staircase leading up to the stage on the left hand side of the theatre. The reason that she was there in the first place wasn't just to take in the addition to the building, but to practice a monolouge for her acting class. She was a senior now, a second year by school standards, and the material was becoming much more heavy. Therefor she wanted to practice in a space worthy of a monolouge such as the one she was doing. She was asigned to present a monolouge from the play And They Dance Real Slow in Jackson, which she, along with the rest of her classmates had never heard of. She was portraying a young girl, Elizabeth, who was at her best friends funeral.

She walked up onto the stage and hit center. The house lights were on, so there was no spotlight-but she honestly preferred it that way. She took a deep breath, and began from about a third of the way into her speech, "Zelda...I dreamt it could be me that was gone and not you at all..." she started, trying to reach deep down for something that could really make her feel what was going on. But for some reason, she was getting nothing. She ran her fingers threw her hair, mainly out of frustration. She didn't understand. She'd been working on this piece over a week, and still, she felt nothing.

[callum james]

Callum rubbed his eyes. Partly out of tiredness, but mainly in awe. This could not be real. The stage was so clean, he felt bad being near it at all, as if his presence was soiling its beauty. Everything in the theatre was brand new. It was hard to imagine it had been this way for anything more than a day.

He ran his fingers across the tops of the seat closest to him, which so happened to be located at the very back of the room. The material felt as soft as pillows. He debated whether to lie down on them and continue his nap or not. Better not. Not like he would sleep well anyway, what with the draft and anything. Callum was one of those who needed absolute perfect conditions to sleep well. Total darkness, complete silence, and the right amount of warmth was always needed for him to drift off into his forgettable dreams. Over the past few days his dreams always had the same running theme - that of back home, and all the people that were back there. Sofia would always turn up there too, in some way or another, and to be honest it was pissing him off royally. Never letting him be. Funny, the dream girl and the real Sofia seemed to match perfectly. Clingy little bitch.

The breeze flew in through the various open windows in the theatre, whipping Callum’s surprisingly un-styled hair into his eyes and face irritatingly, and making his pyjama bottoms(which so happened to be an old pair of pants he found to baggy for his liking) fly up and expose his bare feet and ankles. He walked further down the aisles, and his pants and hair settled again, sort of. His fringe was still flopping down in front of his eyes, his left one in particular. Damn, he bet he looked like a real girl now.

He was busying himself with attempting to comb through he strands of black when he was distracted by the sound of another. He looked up, the voice coming from the stage. There she was, standing kind of awkwardly, but that may just have been the lighting (or rather, lack of) that portrayed her that way. What the hell? How hadn’t he noticed anyone else in here?
"Zelda...I dreamt it could be me that was gone and not you at all..."
It took a few minutes for Callum to recognise the words she was reciting, he’d never been the fastest of people, which annoyed him to no end. He turned his attention back to the girl, whose voice seemed to have trailed off. He couldn’t pinpoint any obvious emotion in the words she spoke. This was his competition? Ha. This year was going to be easy.

“Well.” He began, talking slowly out of sleep deprivation.
“If I’m honest love, I’d fail you on that little speech. Granted, we can’t all be perfect, but I was expecting more of my classmates and co-workers… y’know?”
He jumped up to join her on stage, because entering from the stairs just didn’t have the same effect. Walking in tall strides, he realised that the stage wasn’t as big as he’d first thought. He outstretched a pale hand, hints of a smirk playing on his lips.
“Name’s Callum. Callum James. You’ve probably heard of me. I mean, who hasn’t?”

[olive monroe]

To preoccupied by trying to deconstruct just about every part of this monolouge, a monolouge that should have been much easier for her than she was making it, she didn't even notice another student enter the brand new theatre. "Why am I not getting this?" she asked herself under her breath. It was an upsetting piece, for sure, but Olive just wasn't connecting to it. Maybe I should have done more research on it. she thought, trying to convince herself that was the problem.

She ran her fingers back through her hair again, before hugging herself while another cold front swept through the large, and to her knowledge, empty space. "Shit..." she muttered, again under her breath, before stepping back in surprise, when she realized another student had been in the room to observe her train reck of a monolouge. She was incredibly embarrassed now, especially because it wasn't as if what she had just done was her finished product by anymeans.

“If I’m honest love, I’d fail you on that little speech. Granted, we can’t all be perfect, but I was expecting more of my classmates and co-workers… y’know?”

Olive was shocked that this boy that she barely even knew would be so rude-or, blunt really. She needed the reality check, it would push her to work harder, but she couldn't help but be the slightest bit offended. She took a deep breath, and cleared her throat, "Yeah well, ever heard of having an off day? Or even of having to process through something?" she asked him, a tinge of defensiveness in her voice. Truth was, she'd already gone through her steps to nailing a monolouge such as this. Reading it, re-reading and taking notes, reading the full play it came from, trying to find something to connect it to, and acting it out. Except step number five, the finding something to connect whats going on in the monolouge to something she'd experienced in her own life, well, that was lacking a little bit. Truth be told, she'd never been through anything as traumatic as Elizabeth, the character she was supposed to be portraying.

She bit on the inside of her cheek again, listening to the boy as he introduced himself, quite smugly in her opinion. In fact, she'd never heard of him, but she figured she'd humor him. She stretched out her hand, shaking his. "Olive, Olive Monroe." she told him, not bothering to smile and be polite. She was frustrated already, and he was not helping at all.

[callum james]

He repeated her name quietly as they shook hands loosely. It seems his presence wasn’t welcome from the way she acted. She made no attempt to smile back at him, and instead Callum caught the air of anger and annoyance from her. That made him smile even more, his teeth just peeking from outside of his lips. A grin of satisfaction.

“Of course I’ve heard of off days, I just don’t believe in them.” That much was true, he hated it when actors, or anyone for that matter, would excuse their shoddy performances on nothing more than an ‘off day’. If you knew you weren’t going to perform well, then don’t bother turning up at all, as his old drama teacher used to say. It was that simple. It was his motto. Well, it was one of many mottos.

“Now, if we’re going to stop making pathetic excuses for ourselves, maybe we can start getting somewhere.” He turned out to face the rows of empty seats in front of the pair of them, sighing inwardly, if that was possible. It was an unnerving sight, slightly depressing. Callum had never been a fan of open spaces, far preferring to be within a large group of others, or rather, being adored by a large group of others. A feeling of abandonment seemed to creep into the empty theatre, but he pushed it into the back of his mind.
He wasn’t completely alone, there was still this Olive kid beside him. Not that he much favoured her companionship. Her defensive attitude didn’t set right with him. He’d offered her criticism, albeit snarky in nature, but criticism all the same, and she’d answered him back with lame excuses. What was she wanting? Yes men who would throw roses at her every word? No one would improve with that.

It was understandable that she would be having trouble with her monologue - Elizabeth was a complex character to portray. An outcast, something most of the pampered spoilt brats at good ole’ Milestone academy would have no clue of in their entire lifetimes, Callum himself included among them. Despite his frequent attempts to push everyone away and piss them off, he was in no means isolated from people. Yet, he could still get the character Elizabeth in some ways, some ways that Olive might not have noticed. In a similar fashion, Olive might've picked up some aspects of the character that he would miss.
That was the magic of acting. Becoming a new character, taking on all of their problems and knowing their stories, it in turn gives the actor a better understanding of his fellow men.
That is, if they wanted to understand - something Callum would rather not.

[olive monroe]

Olive sighed, her hands coming up to her face, rubbing her temples. She was starting to get a head ache. She got them a lot when she was stressed-and she was definitely beginning to get stressed. The last thing she wanted was to fail this assignment. It meant a lot to her that she presented herself well... she needed to keep her scholarship. She brought her arms back down to her sides and took a deep breath, trying to take in what Callum had said. In a way-despite the fact he seemed just a tad full of himself, she saw that he may have been trying to help. Olive was desperate. She'd take any help she could get.

"You know...you're right." she told him. Surprisingly, it wasn't as hard for her to admitt as she thought it would be. Once she took a step back, and actually took the time to think before she started talking, she didn't feel as offended as she was initially. "I'm just really stressed out over this. It's never been so hard for me to grasp a character before. This is just freaking me out-cause it's so early into the semester..." she started. She knew that it would only get harder from here, and she was a little worried. She was talented, sure, but if you couldn't meet deadlines for assignments, it didn't really matter. After admitting how stressed out she was, she realized that the boy probably could care less. This was a competitive place... but on the other hand, she didn't think that the fact that it was so competitive would cause people to deliberatley try to screw you up. At least, she hoped that wasn't the case.

She muttered a quick "Sorry." for her initial coldness towards him, before too glancing out into the empty theatre. Or at least, a theatre she assumed to be empty. She thought it was before, and she was wrong. "So, uhh, what do you suggest?" she asked him, hoping that he was actually going to lend her a hand, and not just stand there giving her criticism that wasn't going to be constructive. She hated that.