Bridgette (Contest entry)

I was standing there on stage. The bright lights of auditorium shone down on me and I just stood there staring into the audience. I was terrified, but not terrified of being on stage. I was terrified because I couldn’t pronounce my name. Here I was nine years old, trying out for the ‘Sound of music’ and I couldn’t even remember how to say my character’s name. I stood there listening to the bustle of the other performers and stage crew, smelling the dust and old food and I started to cry. Hot, salty tears coursed down my freckled cheek and I buried my hands in my tightly braided strawberry blond hair, waiting for the laughter I just knew would come.

I had soared high when I had sung the songs they had me sing. My voice hit every note just right. I hit that high note without cracking, but I couldn’t remember how to say ‘Bridgette’. How humiliated I was.

I ran off stage and out into the lined seats, to finish running in the hall of the high school. My face now buried in my hands and a steady stream of tears dripping off my chin. My childish sobs echoed down the halls, past pictures of retired teachers and trophies. My mother came out and consoled me. I was safe there from the ridicule of the other kids that had shown up to perform.

We left and for a week I nervously waited by the phone. And when the call came I had a part in the children’s chorus, and I was the understudy for ‘Bridgette’.

I learned to say that cursed name and to dance. And it was one of the most magically times of my childhood.