camden has a reality check... {primadonna au}
[Part 1]
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Camden lifted her rose gold sunglasses, squinting to get a better view of the school in front of her.
It looked fairly small, as far as schools went. The orange-red coloured bricks unlocked a very specific memory of childhood that Camden had long buried.
Her heeled boots clacked against the pavement as she made her way to the entrance. She went to grab a guest pass and meet with the students participating in the musical and their teacher, Miss Angeria Van Micheals.
Once she arrived at the joint gym and auditorium, it was pure, unadulterated, drama-class chaos.
The kids were all bouncing around the gym floor as if they’d all eaten pixie sticks for lunch. Camden gathered that they were trying to interpret some sort of animal - a kangaroo, perhaps? or maybe a pack of gazelles, she wasn’t exactly clear on that.
A few of the students stopped and broke out into whispers when they noticed her presence.
“Let’s settle, now.”
A warm yet firm voice made the students reassemble and take a seat on the floor together, revealing a woman standing behind them.
She was tall and slender, with a strong presence that commanded attention but was equally as inviting. Her gray shirt was tucked into dark wash jeans, with a burgundy cardigan on top that dramatically swished as she gestured to the kids. Her lips were painted a red that matched and were curled into a bright smile.
“As you know, this is the biggest production our school has ever put on. The art department has decided to look for some support, which is why-”
“-Is it true you were on Broadway?!”
A young girl eagerly blurted the question, unable to contain it any longer.
“Yes,” Camden replied with a diplomatic nod, “I was in the ensemble of Anastasia, and was able to tour with them before moving on to a few Off-Broadway roles.”
This spurred even more excited whispering amongst the group. Camden would be lying if she said it didn’t fuel her ego at least a little bit.
“Are you really here to help us?” Another student asked. He stared into Camden’s soul with intensely hopeful puppy-dog eyes.
“Well-” Camden faltered.
In retrospect, she should not have been caught off-guard by the candidness of these kids. Especially considering they were theatre kids.
“I’d certainly like to observe for a little while-”
“-Whatever happened to raising our hand before speaking?”
Miss Van Micheals gave her students a disapproving click of her tongue, stirring laughter in all of them. She seemed like the type of teacher who had playful rapport with her class, the kind who knew how to keep things lighthearted. In Camden’s own experience, those were pretty rare to find, which made her all the more impressive.
“I see you’re all warmed up, so why don’t we show our guest what we’ve worked on so far?”
The kids all scrambled for the door that Camden presumed led into the wings, the sports flags on the wall flaring out as they ran past.
Now, she was alone with the teacher. Luckily, Camden had plenty of experience turning on the charm: this introduction should be a cakewalk.
“Miss Van Michaels! I’m so happy I could be here today, it’s lovely to meet you.”
She extended her arm for the woman to shake, who did so with much more gentle poise than she was used to from stringent casting directors.
“Likewise,” She replied in an accent that rivaled Camden in its charm. “The kids call me Miss Angie, though, so I’d use that around them. Makes things less formal that way.”
“Of course.” Camden agreed, fighting the instinct to rock on her heels.
She was no stranger to audition nerves, but she didn’t know why she was getting them here, considering this wasn’t an audition.
The teacher led the way to a set of fold-out chairs behind a rickety table in front of the stage.
“I’m sure this isn’t as glamorous as what you’re used to, but we make due here.”
“It’s certainly - unique, but it’s sort of quaint, you know? In a hodge-podge, eclectic sort of way.”
This was certainly the first auditorium Camden had been in that had basket ball nets attached to the walls.
She slowly took a seat, unconvinced that the chair wouldn’t snap out of place and send her tumbling to the floor.
Angeria pulled out a pristine copy of the script, setting it between the two of them. She also grabbed a notepad which made Camden realize she probably should’ve brought something to take notes.
Using her phone did not seem like the right course of action.
So, she (cautiously) leaned back in her chair, ready to absorb whatever the students were about the showcase.
They started from the beginning of the show, with its opening number: Miracle.
There was no music yet, so the kids spoke the lines instead of singing them. The only set piece was another shaky folding table with a measly dollar store tablecloth thrown on top. The choreography consisted of simple touch-step moves, most of which were out of sync.
Actually, a lot of it was out of sync. The chorus where everyone had to overlap was an off-beat nightmare of children screaming their words, the formations were so clunky that Camden couldn’t tell who was supposed to be playing a child or a parent, and the two poor ensemble members tasked with carrying the table to the back of the stage struggled with it even as Mrs. Wormwood went into her sad lament of being stuck in the hospital.
Ah yes, the most common hospital decor. Balloon tablecloths.
Camden was thankful when the actress playing Matilda popped out from underneath the table, because it meant everyone else had to freeze while she delivered her sad-and-therefore-much-quieter solo part.
Everyone broke out of their characters directly after the last line. To Camden’s surprise, the woman next to her burst into thunderous applause.
“You’ve made so much progress!” She beamed.
If that was the case, Camden felt lucky to have been absent from the last practice.
All of the kids shifted their gazes to Camden, their eyes expectantly waiting for feedback.
How was she supposed to approach this? Lie and say that it was Sondheim levels of masterful?
“It… it’s an alright foundation,” She forced her face into a gentle smile, though it was hard when she was still recoiling from the piercing noise. “You all have so much… passion, it was… explosive.”
A few of the kids scrunched their noses, forcing Camden to elaborate.
“Maybe there’s a way of…. controlling the explosion a little more, so to speak? I’m not sure if you’ve learned the core principles of counting in time with the beat, of cheating out to the audience-”
“Miss Angie’s taught us all about those things.” The student playing the party entertainer piped up matter-of-factly.
“Right,” Camden’s jaw tightened, “All I meant was that… maybe some more practice is in order.”
The kids didn’t seem satisfied with this. They fidgeted in their places on stage. Which was another fundamental of theatre they hadn’t quite grasped, might Camden add.
“Can we set up the stage for the Wormwood’s house? I’d like to start blocking the next scene. If you aren’t in it, please find a partner and go over your lines together.”
The teacher’s directions broke through the tension coating the air, which Camden was thankful for.
Little did Camden know, Angeria had been stewing in a tension of her own.
The stern expression that settled on Angeria’s face startled Camden to the point of wanting to go and hide under the table with Matilda.
“Listen, I don’t know what PR company sent you here, and frankly, I couldn’t care less.”
“I’m sorry…?”
Camden failed to see what had earned her this reaction: it’s not like she was the one who sang in the chorus of screeching banshees.
“From the moment you walked through the door, you’ve made it abundantly clear you have no respect for what we’re trying to accomplish. If you think you can just waltz in, get on your high horse about technique, and use that to get on the media’s good side, then you can leave right now.”
Was she not here to be another set of eyes? To, you know, help?
Why were her valid notes being painted as a bad thing?!
“These kids don’t need criticism from some disgraced broadway performer who doesn’t care enough to learn their names. They need support. Not to be robbed of their confidence just so you can feed your own self-importance.”
It’d been a long time since Camden had been treated this way. Angeria’s brown eyes cracked in a fury that cut Camden to the core.
“That’s - that’s not what I was trying to do,” Camden stuttered, though she hadn’t pondered the possibility for long enough to know if that really had been her goal.
“I understand that they need support - that’s why I got into theatre, too.”
Angeria didn’t respond: she just stuck her nose higher in the air and turned her attention back to her students. She started blocking the next scene, leaving Camden to fester in her shame.
Shockingly, shame is not a fun emotion to experience. Without Angeria glaring daggers at her, it was easier for Camden to stave it off. To let it morph into something else.
Rage.
Who did this teacher think she was to hurl such awful insults at her? Camden was donating her own time to this production, and instead of being grateful, she was being condemned for it.
News flash: this show was a complete mess so far, and was on course to become the laughingstock of the city.
Maybe the news articles about the headache-inducing Matilda show would eclipse the ones slandering Camden. That was fine by her, let this ship sink for all she cares!
Camden did not speak two complete sentences the rest of the rehearsal. She saved her choice words for when she got back to her apartment, and furiously swiped into Deja’s contact.
“Hey Cam,” Deja greeted cheerily, “How’d it go today?”
“Deja!! Why would you do that to me, why the hell did you-”
And then she choked the rest of her words back.
Here she was, screaming at her agent over the phone. No, her friend. But with how terrible she’d been treating Deja lately, could she even call her that?
Deja was only trying to help. It’s not like she could have possibly known what the teacher would say to her.
And this tantrum over the phone was clear proof that Angeria’s words had some truth to them.
“I’ve…” Camden’s voice lowered to a whisper as realization set in, “I’ve been a bitch, haven’t I?”
Despite the prior yelling, despite deserving a harsher retort, Deja only responded with a gentle: “That bad?”
Camden collapsed onto her bed, groaning into her pillow.
“I’m sorry,” She tried to say, but it ended up coming out all muffled against the fabric.
Somehow, Deja seemed to understand.
“Hey, I don’t want you to get down on yourself. Just because you’ve been all tunnel-vision lately does not make you a bad person. You aren’t.”
Camden didn’t know what to believe anymore. All she knew was that she couldn’t trust herself, not after this downwards spiral she’d been blind to up until now.
“I know you said it wasn’t all rosy, but I still think this experience will be good for you, even if the first day was a little… trying.” Deja offered.
“I’ll be banned if I set foot in there ever again,” Camden let out a self-deprecating laugh, “I’m surprised they didn’t have me thrown out when I so ignorantly decided to call their auditorium a ‘unique hodge-podge’.”
Camden was so out of touch, that she literally thought that had been a compliment.
“It can’t hurt to try, right? If I know anything about you, Cam, it’s that once you set your mind to something, you’re unstoppable.”
Angeria’s earlier words echoed in Camden’s mind.
They need support.
Camden made about a million fatal flaws during that first rehearsal, but the biggest was that she failed to gain anyone’s trust. Why shouldn’t they think she was just there for her own benefit?
“I don’t want to bog them down… can I really help them while I’m also trying to dig myself out of this hole?”
“It doesn’t have to be a one-way street: the production can help you, and if you keep an open mind, you can do the same for it.”
Deja’s peptalk managed to draw out one emotion from the neverending vortex of feelings Camden had endured today.
Motivation.
“I think you’re right.”
Though Camden couldn’t see her, she was sure that Deja’s lips had contorted into a large Cheshire smile.
“Finally!” She joked.
Camden laughed along, but it was restrained.
“Are… we good?”
“Of course we are,” Deja reassured her, “I’m here for you, Cam. Even more so now that you’re ready to listen.”
Now that she’d had a reality check, Camden was willing to heed Deja’s advice.
She just hoped it wasn’t too late.
