No Rules To Love

Chapter Six - Part Two

It was halfway through the day, and none of us had done much at all. It was past lunchtime, and we’d had no break, so the entire cast was restless, ratty and ravenous. Needless to say, we put little effort into our performance. Hunter pushed us to our limit, wanting nothing other than perfection, and probably establishing his unearned authority. Even after the tech team had given us the ‘ok’ to move on to the next scene, Hunter made us perform again to implement the notes he’d given us. This was going to be a long day, and Hunter loved every moment of it.

I finished singing "I Feel Pretty," and although I sang it well, I put little effort into it since it was the third time I had performed it. My lack of effort was a conscious choice. I wanted to rest my voice as much as possible, knowing the show loomed at the end of the week, so I intentionally held back. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best performance, but it was only a tech rehearsal, and no one judged me.

Or so I thought.

“What was that?” Hunter asked me once I had finished singing. His voice cut like ice. He was in the seating area, in the middle of the front row, looking up at the stage. He had an intense gaze and a look of distaste smeared across his face.

“Excuse me?” I asked, panting from the exertion, not quite understanding his question.

“That performance. What was it?” He asked me once again, his smirk deepened into something almost cruel. “I hope you’re not planning on performing it like that when we get to the show. Because if you are, you can kiss your career goodbye.”

Everyone in the room seemed to take an intake of breath, all in unison at this point. The tension in the air was palpable, almost suffocating. I stood frozen on the spot; the only movement was my eyes popping out of my skull. No one had ever spoken to me like that before, especially about my performance. No-one. Not even the strictest teachers at this school.

“What are you implying?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I am ‘implying’,” he mocked, “that it was not a very good performance. To be honest, I am wondering why they cast you as Maria in the first place.”

“You have got to be joking!” I exclaimed, finally coming out of my shocked state and into a furious one. Who the hell did he think he was, belittling me like that in front of everyone? He wasn’t some theatre guru! He wasn’t on the audition panel! What did he know? He had only been out of university for a year, and he was still learning! He did one stint in a Broadway show — in the ensemble, no less — and now he’s suddenly an expert! “If you haven’t noticed,” I told him. “This is a tech rehearsal. This rehearsal isn’t for us to put our all in; we can wait for the dress rehearsal for that.”

'Well, you know nothing about the world of theatre then.' Hunter retorted as quickly as a flash, and his words sent a jolt of fury through my chest. Hunter’s motivation was clear - he wanted to instil a professional standard in us, maybe to prove something to himself or assert his expertise, but it manifested at the completely wrong time. We gathered quite an audience now. Even the cast members in the wings were sneaking their way on stage to glimpse the catfight. 'If you did, you would be aware that any rehearsal is a chance to improve. So, you put all your efforts into every single rehearsal.'

Okay, so he did have a point there, but I wouldn't admit it. Especially not to his face.

“I don’t see why you’re having a go at only me!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms about the place as if to emphasise my point. My frustration stemmed from a sense of unfairness; I wanted Hunter to see that I wasn’t the only one marking the entire show. “No one else is putting any effort into what they are doing; you’ve been watching them all day! And yet, you mention it to no one else in this cast!”

“Because you’re the lead!” He shouted. “You need to set an example for everyone!”

Hunter's focus on me was intentional, motivated by the belief that the lead must inspire the cast. His expectations were higher because of the responsibilities of my role.

But now I knew, with a flash of cold certainty, he was talking utter bullshit. This was a performing arts school; no one was setting any examples for anyone. We were all there for one reason and one reason alone: we had talent. We were past taking tips from our classmates and needed to learn from the experts.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, attempting to calm myself down. I took one look at Hunter’s smug face - knowing that he didn’t get an answer out of me - and my anger flared up again. The injustice of it all made my hands tremble. He was so sure he’d broken me, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“You know what?” I muttered as I stomped down the steps at the side of the stage. Each step was fuelled by my resentment. “I cannot be dealing with you and your ego this close to the show.”

Hunter raised his eyebrows at my accusation. His eyebrows rose further when I grabbed my bag from one of the seats at the front of the auditorium, where everyone had dumped their belongings for easy access.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Hunter asked my retreating back as I made my way to the auditorium doors. I noticed his tone tried to mimic a teacher’s, and I rolled my eyes at how pathetic he sounded.

“Lunch.” I merely replied. In fear of my anger resurfacing, I avoided eye contact with Hunter when I looked over my shoulder. “I think everyone deserves a break, don’t you?”