Senior Year Memories Ch. 42

"It's been a while," I admitted. "Not one of my favorite movies."

"Don't watch the movie," she replied swiftly. "They mangle the ending and the tone, letting their heroes off more easily instead of making the movie the bleak fucking tragedy it is. I'll send you some good links to off-Broadway bootlegs, they'll give you a better idea of what to expect."

"Thanks," I replied.

"Of course, we're also breaking some hearts today," Olivia replied quickly, her eyes darting to the theater's entrance as if looking for an intruder. "Some people don't like hearing they're relegated to chorus, even when they normally love being in the chorus. Mikayla was heartbroken when she heard you weren't interviewing the chorus..."

Curiously, she looked me up and down. "You two probably would've had fun with each other."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Olivia raised an eyebrow back at me. "It means that you've obviously never met Mikayla Matsumoto before, because if you knew her, you'd know *exactly* what I was implying."

I shook my head, slightly frustrated. I could tell that Olivia was going to find every way she could to test my patience, and if it hadn't been for Leah vouching for her, I might have been even more annoyed than I was. Wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, I decided to try to nip this in the bud.

I said, "Look, I don't know what you think I'm doing here-"

"I believe you're here for interviews, and that as a talented writer, you'll do your interviews well," Olivia interrupted, swiftly. "But I also understand your reputation, and that such reputations come with their own set of difficulties. Not to sound ironic, but I'd really like this play to go off without any 'drama', and given your reputation, you could easily instigate all sorts of trouble, intentional or no. Don't take this as hostility, because for now, it isn't... but if you cause problems while embedded with us, I will happily reconsider offering you hostility."

She craned her neck past the curtain partition that Mrs. Harker had been setting up, then looked into my eyes earnestly.

"Until then, I will treat you with every bit of professional courtesy I have, and I have quite a bit. Can I expect the same from you?" Olivia replied.

This was a moment where I seriously considered a joke or two, and this might have shown on my face for the way it seemed Olivia was preparing for battle. Rather than engage that, I nodded understandingly.

"I'll give you everything I've got," I replied, holding out my hand. "I know I might not knock it out of the park, but I promise you that I'll try, and that if I fuck up, I'll own up to it."

Olivia considered my hand for a moment, before reaching out and grabbing it, shaking my hand with a few swift pumps. Feeling the vague roughness of her hands, I could finally understand that this girl was a builder, and a pretty no-nonsense one at that.

"Ryan, you remain a genuine curiosity of the highest order," she said before letting go of my hand.

Finally feeling comfortable enough to grin, I said, "I'm going to be hearing that a lot, aren't I?"

"Until you've done something to change my opinion," Olivia admitted.

The door at the entrance of the little theater swung open as several shadowy figures walked inside.

Olivia cocked her head toward our improvised interview area. "Come on. Let's get you in place to talk to some drama kids."

***

For the next hour and change, I interviewed more than fifteen members of the school's drama club who were front-runners for the main roles in the spring production of Little Shop of Horrors. If I were to go over all of them, no doubt this would get boring fast, as only so many of them actually wound up playing a noteworthy part in the month to come, so, in the spirit of a getting things done montage, I'll give you the most important interviews of the day, as these ones would shape the play's (and my) month to come.

***

After getting a few fun pictures taken by Leah, a curvy, 5'3" girl with shoulder-length dark hair and lively hazel eyes sat on the stool before me, her smile full of life and mischief. She straightened out her comfortable skirt as she sat down, eyeing me with amused curiosity, as if there was some great joke in which I was the punchline which she knew and I didn't. This was not an unfamiliar look on this girl's face, as I had had her in a number of classes before and seen this exact side of her, but I was curious to see what it might mean now.

Turning on my small, handheld digital recorder, I encouraged her to speak.

"My name is Doreen Bell," she explained. "I'm trying out for Audrey, but in a pinch I'm happy with being one of the backup singers, or even Audrey II. I'm not set on anything really, so it's no skin off my ass if I don't get the lead, but how cool would it be to see a girl with a little meat on her bones win the part?"

Doreen laughed, and I had to keep quiet for the sake of journalistic integrity, though I could easily see her point on this matter.

"And *you*," she said dramatically, turning her attention completely to me, "You're the one who's slept with half the school?"

I choked, slightly, "I-"

"Far fewer than half," Olivia corrected. "Not even close to half our class, but still not an insignificant amount."

Doreen laughed loudly, clapping her hands. "That's what I'm talking about! So, you've finally decided to sow your wild oats among us drama bitches, huh?"

Trying to stay noncommittal, I replied, "...no?"

"Why not? Pickings around here are slim, guys are either timid, pigs, or gay and off the table; we could use some fresh blood. I mean, preferably other bodily fluids, but..."

Standing over my shoulder, Olivia cleared her throat and said, "The interview, Doreen?"

Doreen rolled her eyes dramatically. "So on task, this one... work, work, work... you're lucky I love you, Liv, or I'd so be ready to ask someone to throw down with you in my place."

She turned back to me, "I'm terrible at fighting, but despite my modest heft, I'm surprisingly fast! Better at hiding, though."

Straightening out her skirt again, Doreen smiled a pretty smile, fluttered her eyelashes cutely and said, "So, what does the Puma Press want to know about little-but-not-so-little ol' Doreen Bell?"

***

The next girl took her time with Leah, making sure that she got all of her best angles down and, well, holding up pretty much everyone else who was waiting to get interviewed.

When she was finally finished (after demanding that she get final call on whatever picture we wound up using for her), the girl walked over to me like a force of nature, which, to be fair, she had somewhat earned for her beauty.

The 5'9" Latina had the face of a model, with expressive, soulful dark eyes, pouty lips, and just enough makeup to accentuate every element of her beauty. Long, silky black hair cascaded down her shoulders, over a stylish blouse that molded well to her full breasts. When she sat on the stool before me, she crossed one leg over the other, perhaps in an effort to show off that her jeans were both tight and from a designer brand.

"My name is Faith Serrano, and I will be playing Audrey," she said, her voice calm and confident and filled with an arrogance that she made sure translated to her face.

"So, you're confident you're getting the lead?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Faith replied. "No offense to any of the others, but I *am* the best. I'm the best singer, the best dancer, the best actress... and it goes without saying that I am the most beautiful. And I am willing to do whatever it takes to win the part. Honestly, no one here even compares, so why shouldn't the part be mine?"

If she was putting on a front, she hid it well. Faith said these things as if reciting a list of facts, not opinions based on her own inflated view of herself, eyeing Olivia and me as if we were simply lucky to be in her presence.

I looked to Olivia. She shrugged, confirming this seemed about normal.

***

A tall and leggy lighter-skinned black girl sat before Olivia and me, looking perfectly relaxed. With her long hair hanging loose behind her in a mix of braids and casual dreadlocks and dyed blonde, it was clear she had a style all her own, and one that I rather liked at a glance. Her pretty face held a wisdom beyond her years, while her dark violet lipstick and septum piercing continued to add to her distinct look. Combined with a pair of loose, distressed jeans and a button-up, sleeveless top that looked tight over her ample chest, and I was ready to admit that I was deeply curious to get to know Cecilia Dunwich.

"You guys got any weed? I could go for a little weed after all this... set up a mellow afternoon with some tunes and friends..." Cecilia said, stretching her arms above her head.

Perhaps a little overly dramatic, I reached into my pockets before saying, "Sorry, fresh out."

"It's all good," she responded with a pleasantly casual tone. "I can probably scrounge some edibles from my older brother when I get home, but thanks for thinking about it."

Being this close to Cecilia's unconventional beauty had me surprisingly uncomfortable, so I tried to steer things back on course. "So, the play?"

"What about the play?" she asked, before grinning in amusement. "Is it still the thing?"

I sat there confused for a moment (it would take some time before I understood the Shakespearean undertones of her wit), before replying, "We're here to-"

"I know why we're here, I'm just messing with you," Cecilia replied, chuckling softly before leaning in the direction of my recorder. "My name's Cecilia Dunwich, and I'm trying out for one of the backup singers. Chiffon, Crystal, Ronette, doesn't matter which one... they may not be the flashiest characters, but they get the best songs, and they'll let me shine in my own way..."

Blushing slightly, I spoke before I thought when I said, "I doubt it takes much for you to shine."

Cecilia's smile broadened. "And I'll bet you get a lot of practice with that sweet tongue you got there."

We might have sat like this for a while, because before I knew it, Olivia was clearing her throat behind me.

"Right," I said, straightening myself up. "Moving on..."

***

"I know a lot of people don't think I can do this part, but I can. I'm ready, I just need someone to believe in me. I need Mrs. Harker to understand that I am ready, and if she gives me a shot, I won't let her down," the petite blonde girl sitting before me said.

She was a nervous thing, conservatively dressed and with eyes that darted easily behind her glasses. She licked her lips hesitantly as if compelled to make sure they couldn't go dry, while one finger toyed with a lock of her long blonde hair unconsciously. She was cute, yet like many of my classmates, I couldn't help but hold a little annoyance for know-it-all overachiever Chloe Marcus, who was always too eager to prove to everyone how much she knew. Standing behind me, Olivia seemed barely able to hold back her vague contempt, but was staying on her best behavior.

And since Chloe also seemed to be trying to put her best foot forward, I kept my quiet as well.

"You see... I get Audrey," Chloe said. "I know what it's like to be in a rut and to want something more. Everyone thinks they know who and what I am because I've done everything I can to make them think this one thing about me... but I can be more. I can be so much more if I'm given a chance. I don't ask for much. I'd *like* the lead, but if I don't get it, I'll be happy with anything, really, so long as I can be seen, and acknowledged, and is that really so much to ask for?"

Well, this had certainly gotten interesting for a preliminary interview.

I leaned in, smiling, "Not at all..."

***

The girl of Middle-Eastern descent sitting before me now was cute, with her long-sleeved shirt and loose pants giving her a more modest look than some. Her brown eyes, looking from behind a pair of glasses, were simultaneously lively and a little nervous, matching her broad smile as she toyed with her long black braid.

"I mean, I know I'm not exactly perfect for Audrey," Zahra Dashti admitted, looking down at herself before turning her attention back to me. "The part doesn't exactly scream for a Kuwaiti girl with big boobs who LARPs on weekends, but wouldn't it be cool if the lead of the play got to be someone that no one expected? I mean, that would be so fun, wouldn't it? And, yeah, I know, I don't got a shot really next to those other girls, but if I could get it... wouldn't that be a fucking adventure?"

Her eyes widened. "I shouldn't have said fuck, should I? And I certainly shouldn't have said it again like that! Fuck!"

Zahra clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles, which I couldn't help but laugh along with.

"I can bleep you out, or, just, you know, lie about what you said. It's not journalistically sound, but I don't have to say you said fuck if you don't want me to," I said, turning to Olivia for emphasis.

She was impassive as ever, which seemed to calm Zahra. "That's cool... it's not like my folks would kill me or anything, but they'd be pretty worked up, and I really like to have fun and adventure and..."

Zahra continued on for some time, but with an attitude as lively as hers, I wasn't going to stop her anytime soon.

***

Olivia excused herself from one of my final interviews, and when she did, I understood why. The boy who entered our little interview alcove was tall and muscular in a lean sort of way, with gloriously blonde and wavy hair that went to his shoulders. He was dressed in a stylish, collared shirt and jeans that probably cost about as much as a new bicycle (a good one, at that). Everything about him was cultivated to make him look like a handsome, easygoing surfer type, but the lack of life behind his broad, toothy smile, still kept me uneasy about Micah Burke.

Especially when he slapped a hand on my shoulder, gripping it slightly too tightly, before he sat down on the stool.

"We all know I'm gonna get the lead... I mean, Seymour's mine, so it's not like we need to linger on that when we can talk about everything else," he said, laughing. "And we still gotta do lunch! I keep telling myself I gotta do lunch with Ryan so we can, ya know, shoot the breeze, understand each other, divvy up territories around school and things like that!"

"Ummm... territories?" I said, confused.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, as if what he was talking about were obvious. "I mean, you're my hero! I told you you're my hero, right?"

He had mentioned this once before. "Uhhh..."

"Well, it's true! Guys like us who weren't all popular at the beginning of the year got something to hope for now after you opened the legs of nearly every girl in class, and a guy like me can clean up now. I mean, I don't wanna brag about my numbers, but, I've been with a bunch of girls..."

Micah smiled smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Eleven girls. Pretty damn sweet, right? Maybe even knocks you out of the water."

I was too polite to indicate that I'd recently crossed fifty, and explained, "It's not about numbers."

"Oh, yeah, definitely! Quality over quantity, I get it, man, no shame in that!" he said, leaning in close to me. "But, if you could do a guy a solid, I'd like to ask it if you could respect me and not touch the drama girls, alright? There's still some names I gotta fill out for my list, and if I gotta compete with you, well... look, I don't want things to get ugly, you don't want things to get ugly, so, don't mess with any of the bitches here, leave 'em for me, and we'll be golden!"

As if we had an understanding, he leaned forward and clapped me on the shoulder again, laughing. "And we still gotta do lunch! I'm sure I got some stories I can tell you that you wouldn't believe!"

He kept laughing, but I felt no need to join him. I'd been threatened enough in my life to not like how it felt, no matter how big the person threatening me smiled afterward.

***

It took a little over an hour to get through everyone who had come in for interviews, and looking over the list of names I'd been given, I had to admit that I was a little confused. With Leah already gone and Mrs. Harker packing up, I drew this to Olivia's attention.

"Hey... where's Amy Temple?" I asked. "She's on the list, in the running for one of the main roles, and she's not here?"

Olivia sighed, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I told her what time this was. I was really hoping she'd be here. But she wasn't."

She sighed again, disappointed. "That girl... she's got talent. *Raw* talent. To spare. But she's always got this need to show off and prove herself to a point where she's always getting in her own damn way... misses her obligations because she forgets, or she didn't forget and just decided to have fun instead, or got hurt doing some stupid, foolish thing and..."

I thought about this, at first for the sake of completing my list of interviews, but more for Olivia. While she may not have been someone who was easy to "click" with, I felt for her, and understood what it was like having friends who found their ways of disappointing you, even if they didn't mean to.

I pocketed my recorder and slung my backpack over my shoulder. "You know where she might be right now?"

"Probably across town at Prescott Paintball getting shot," Olivia said bitterly, before she turned her eyes to me and asked, "Why?"

Walking away from Olivia, I explained, "I'm gonna get the last name on my interview list."

***

Wedged in a small, semi-wooded area between Regan Hills and Blair Valley was a small stretch of land that had, for a while anyway, been sort of a half-assed dump. After World War II, disused aircraft had been left to rot on it for decades, stripped of parts until nothing but rusting metal remained. At some point in the 1980s, most of the more dangerous airplane husks had been carted off to be properly disposed of in the hopes of making this stretch of green into something resembling a park, but a loss of funding dashed those dreams, leaving it now only *partially* filled with wreckage.

However, from this disused chaos, someone found opportunity, and Prescott Paintball was born. By merely adding some additional, intentional obstacles around the stripped airplane hulks, and having everyone who went inside sign a hefty liability waiver saying that they couldn't be held responsible for anything that might happen while people were dodging and shooting each other around said rickety airplane hulks, they had turned the place into a semi-popular hangout for local youths whose after school activities tended toward the violent. Dad had taken me there a few times, but since he's basically John Wick with a paintball gun and I decidedly am not, I didn't find a lot of point in the place.

But, I had my interview list, and damn it if I wasn't going to get that last name. And, maybe, with a little luck, I could try to appeal to Amy's better angels and talk her into staying out of trouble. She really seemed to be upsetting Olivia, and with how much work Mrs. Harker had put into getting this play off the ground, I really wanted to help prevent any foul-ups if I could.

I'd made it to Prescott Paintball by mid-afternoon, and with some luck, I identified Amy's car in the small parking lot by the facility's entry building.

This was about where my feeling of accomplishment ran out, for that was also the same time I saw the first of the victims.

A handful of teenaged boys I didn't recognize stumbled out looking haunted and a little worse for wear, those who had custom armor and helmets they carried out with them being nearly completely covered in paint.

"I didn't see her... came out of nowhere... and Jimmy! It was like the forest came alive and took him..." one of them bemoaned, shaking his head as he limped toward me.