Lia
It’s been three days since the first rehearsal. Three days of obsessing over every line, every movement, every way I could screw this whole thing up.
Mrs. Low’s been encouraging, patient even, but it doesn’t make the words any easier to get right. Whenever I think about being on stage, all I can picture is myself forgetting everything and standing there like a complete i***t in front of everyone. I’ve been practicing alone in the empty hallway for the last fifteen minutes, trying to get into character, but nothing feels natural. The words are just words, flat and hollow. I need them to feel real, but I can’t seem to find that spark that always used to come so easily.
I close my eyes, forcing myself to take slow, even breaths. It’s just nerves. That’s all. I can do this. I have to do
