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Tricks of the Trade

I sighed and locked up my locker for the day. The hallway had finally emptied enough for me to leave, so I began the daily routine of slowly wheeling myself down to the theater. Upon reaching it, I sped down the back way ramp to reach the backstage door. I'm the only person allowed to use this entrance, and that's only because of my chair, which I've affectionately named Carl.

"Emilie!" my best friend Liz shouted, racing up onto the stage to hide behind me, followed closely by my other besties Jess and Emmy, "They've gone crazy! Jess is trying to kill me, and Emmy is trying to force me to eat raisins!"

"You're all crazy," I laughed. This kind of behavior is totally normal for my friends, they're just extremely high-energy people. I used to have as much energy as them, but that was pre-cancer. "Care to put Carl in his corner? And sign me in?" I got up and took a few shaky steps down the stairs at the front of the stage and plopped myself down in a front-row seat. I absolutely hate asking for help, I really do, but life would be impossible if I didn't. So I just suck it up and ask.

Liz, Jess, and Emmy sit down next to me just as our director takes the stage to begin rehearsal. "One, two, three," Mrs. Grindahl shouts out, and we all clap immediately. It's a sign of how great of a director she is- she can silence 50 middle schoolers with three words and a responsive clap. "Thank you. Alrighty, today's announcements... Mr. K is out sick today, so Mrs. Lake, the crew manager, will be stepping in for him until he returns. Marissa, have you finished checking who's not here?"
"Yep!" Marissa said form over by the sign-in wall.
"Who are we missing?"
"Jill Collins?" Jill is another close friend of mine, and I raised my hand to say that Jill was with a teacher. "Lori Flint?" This time it was Liz who informed us that Lori was with Jill. "Ok, that's it," Marissa said, heading back to her seat next to Emmy.
"Thanks, Marissa. Ok, today we're running Act One off book, which means absolutely no scripts on stage. You should have memorized your lines by now, but if you forget just call out 'line' and Mrs. Lake will prompt you on what your. One last thing before we begin. My father-in-law's friend, Mr. Fellowes," Mrs. G gestured to a fattish bald man sitting next to her 'director's chair', and he gave a slight wave and smile, "Is going to be watching our rehearsal today. Places for Act One, Scene One."

Liz rolled Carl over from his corner to the top of the steps to meet me, "Did you get a good look at Mrs. G's friend?" I ask her before sitting down in Carl.
"No, why?"
"His first name is Julian."
"So?"
"Put his first name and last name together."
"Um, ok... Julian Fellowes. I don't get it," She gave me a look like I was crazy, but I didn't say anything, letting her work it out for herself. "Wait. Julian Fellowes as in the Julian Fellowes? As in the creator of Downton Abbey, as in God's personal gift to television?!"
"The one and only," Liz and I had been worshipping Julian Fellowes for about seven months, after seeing our first episode of Downton (which also happened to be the day of my last chemotherapy treatment (hopefully) ever).
"What do you think he's doing here?"
"I don't know," I wheel Carl and I into my place, "But I'm glad I stayed up last night memorizing, because I am not calling for line in front of Julian Fellowes."
"Crap. Where's my script? I'm not on until scene two, so I better get my lines down fast," And with that, Liz rushed off, leaving me to wait for my cue line in solitude.

The show we're doing is a modern adaptation of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. I play Vanessa, the 21st Century's version of Valentine, one of Orsino's (now Oliver's) assistants. Jess is Curio (now Cassie) another assistant, Liz is Viola/Cesario (now Violet/Zach), and Emmy and Marissa are both Lady Olivia's palace guards, with the funniest lines in the entire story. I hear my cue line, stand up out of Carl, and stride onto the stage with confidence.


My osteosarcoma is kind of tricky. Thanks to chemo and multiple surgeries, I've been cancer free for about a month, which isn't really cancer free. You're not actually cancer free until five years after initially being proclaimed cancer free. Most people are really confused when I stand up to walk on stage, but I negotiated four hours of time out of Carl with my doctors as part of physical therapy. Two hours are spent on theater, the other two on actual physical therapy. Technically, rehearsal is two and a half hours long, so I'm required to use Carl every single second I'm off stage. I hate Carl. I just want to walk like a normal person. I want to have not spent most of sixth and seventh grade in the hospital. I want to not have to take a total of 36 pills a day. It's all just wants and wishes that will never come true. I need to stop living in the pre-cancer past, but that's hard when the past was so much better than the present.


Rehearsal goes great. I don't call for my line once, and neither does Liz. I can feel Julian's eyes on me more often than not, even when I'm not on stage, but I can't blame him. It's hard not to stare at me. During break, I'm backstage and overhear his conversation with Mrs. G. They don't know I'm listening, and I feel bad for listening, but the conversation is about me and the curtain hides me from sight...

"Who's the girl with the wheelchair?" Julian asks bluntly.

"That's Emilie Christianson," Mrs. G tells him.

"What's her story? I'm not meaning to sound rude, but I'm curious."

"She has osteosarcoma in her right leg, just below the knee... Or she had it, she was declared cancer free last month, but there's still a chance of relapse. Her doctors allow her minimal time out of her chair, which she's named Carl, and she uses about half of the time here."

"I see," I thought he was going to continue on the subject of me, but he instead switched topics to the production we had just given him a glimpse of. "I must say Kelsey, this is quite an impressive set up you've got here. There are quite a few of your actors and actresses that interest me. Who would you say is your most talented?"

"Well, for this particular show, it's Liz. For the last one, it was Jess. But I'd say, for what you're looking for, it's Emilie. And that has nothing to do with the cancer. Emilie is a genuinely talented actress. She can make you feel the emotion of a scene the second time she reads it. She's a hard worker, too. Last year, she was in and out of the hospital a lot, but she continued to work on her lines and skyped herself into rehearsals she wasn't able to attend. We gave her an understudy, but that show, Emilie starred."

"Impressive. When's her next scene? I'd like a word with her without taking her away from the stage," I heard him stand, "You truly believe her to be what I'm looking for? I'm taking your word on this, Kelsey."

"She's the one, Julian. Her next scene is in about 20 minutes, but if you need more time, we'll just read out her lines until she's back."

"Thank you."

"Emilie," Mrs. G then called out to me.

"Yeah, Mrs. G?" Dang it, my voice is shakey. I couldn't believe the things Mrs. G said about my acting to Julian Fellowes. I'm also a bit starstruck that Julian Fellowes is here, in my theater.

"Mr. Fellowes wants a word with you, why don't you lead him to the back hallway and you two can talk out there?"

"Ok," I reply in a strange, overly sweet way, as Julian mounts the stage to follow me.

I wheel myself through the maze of backstage, making tight turns around various pieces of yet-to-be-assembled set, Julian following close behind. Thank god I don't get stuck on anything, just imagining the embarrassment turns my cheeks red.

"I don't suppose you know who I am," he begins, once seated comfortably on a folding chair, "Other than Mrs. Grindahl introducing me as Mr. Fellowes, friend of old Mr. Grindahl."

"Actually, I do," I say, slightly embarrassed, "I'm assuming that your first name is Julian and that you are responsible, along with Gareth Neame for Downton Abbey?"

"Responsible for? You make it sound like an awful thing. I created the show, my dear. Does this mean you're familiar with my work?"

"Just with Downton Abbey, but I consider myself to be highly familiar with that."

"How familiar?"

"Familiar enough to write one of 's most successful Downton Abbey fanfictions."

"I'd say that is pretty familiar, what's it called?"

"Reaching Highclere."

"A funny title that has nothing to do with the plot."

"The title symbolizes what I would consider to be the pinnacle of my acting career. Wait, how do you know it has nothing to do with the plot?"

"I've read it. In fact, I'm dying to know what happens in the next chapter."

"Wow, you've read it. I'm afraid I won't tell you what happens, you'll just have to find out yourself on Saturday, like all of my other readers," This whole situation is amazing, but I've somehow managed to avoid portraying my awe, and this easy banter is a result. "You didn't know I wrote RH until just now, right?"

"Oh, well, it was worth a shot. And no, I didn't know. I'd never had associated the pen name DowntonMakesMeHollaHunnyBooB oo with a Minnesotan named Emilie," he sighs and shifts in his chair. "Now, we should probably spend some time discussing my initial reason for pulling you aside."

"I've actually been dying to know the answer to that question since you sat down," I say lightly.

"I'm on a casting trip."

"A casting trip? Mr. Fellowes, I hate to break it to you, but your show is British, and this is America," I surprise myself by not fainting when he says casting trip.

"Yes, I'm aware, but Cora has American relatives in series four."

"I see," I'm not really sure where I fit in to all of this.

"You remember Rose?" He pauses and then continues onward after my slight nod of confirmation, "She was going to live at Downton, but things change. Then Cora's brother, Harold's family comes for a visit. It just so happens that Cora's fourteen year old niece has become quite the troublemaker in the states. Near the end of their visit, Harold and his wife decide to have their daughter stay on with her aunt and cousins for a couple of months in hopes that she changes her ways."

"I see," I say again, although I'm beginning to get where I fit into all of this.

"I've spent the last month and a half traveling around the US looking for the perfect actress. Today was my last stop, and lucky for me, I've found the perfect actress."

"Me?" Wow. Holy cow. "How do you know I'm the perfect actress? Mr. Fellowes, you've only seen me in three scenes. How do you know?"

"Call it one of the tricks of the trade if you wish, but I can just tell."


Author's Note: Alright, I would prefer to just leave this first chapter as it is, but unfortunately, it needs a disclaimer.

1)I do not have osteosarcoma, I got the idea from The Fault In Our Stars by John Green.

2)My name is not Emilie Christianson.

3)All of the characters in this fic are based on real people, I have their consent, but I have changed their names.

4)This excludes Julian Fellowes, Gareth Neame, and the other extremely famous people coming up.

5)The events in this chapter are set in my middle school's theater.

6)I do not expect this fic to become this websites most successful Downton fic, but I needed a plausible circumstance under which Julian could have read Emilie's fic.

7)Emilie is based on myself.

8)I am not as talented an actress as Emilie.

9)This whole fic is a highly improbable situation, but it's fun to dream.

10)I also write Crossing The Bridge, Taking The Fence.

11)I was having writers' block with it, so I started this. Depending on the response, I may only start it again when this one is done.

Sorry for the length, I felt like I had some explaining to do. Oh, and I changed my pen name from Downtonite to what you see now.