Animorphs UK #1 – A Reveal
Chapter 1
"My name is Sophia."
"I don't believe a word that comes from your venomous mouth!" Carlos cried in reply, kicking back his seat so it toppled to the floor behind him. "Lying little weasel! This is the last time your spread your vile words!"
"No, please!" I begged, cowering backwards and away from his ragged old desk. "Have mercy! I've told no lies!"
"Yet another lie!" He crowed, moving proudly towards me.
He reached for the pistol carried cosily in his holster and revealed it in my direction. I ducked, planting hands to the ground and wept for my life. I shook my head regretfully and sobbed, "I've done everything for you, Bartholomew. Everything! Can't you see?"
"I see only truth." He replied coldly.
BANG!
I collapsed, thumping to the hard floor. Lifeless.
"No! Oh god, no! Sophia!"
The stomping of feet on hollow ground came closer, and arms wrapped around my torso. Mary teared up, and her hands shook.
Bartholomew huffed petulantly. I could hear him shuffling. "I did what I had to do, my dear Mary. She was not one of us! She was a spy! A filthy, villainous spy! How could you not see?"
"She was never a spy…" Mary spat, putting force back into her tone. Her grasp on me loosened. "You are blinded by terror!"
"I have removed the blindfold! I can see it all, now! Look closely, Mary. Look closely, and see who she really is!"
"She's a girl!"
"She's not just a girl," He snarled. "She is none other than Katrin Mendelberg, the supposed German traitor! I've seen her, Mary, behind the curtains at the ball and under the bridge at Fowey! Did she ever tell you how she could speak fluent German!"
"No!" Mary sobbed. "It can't be! It's not true!"
It was good. I smiled a little, but remained still as a rock, my breathing steady and cautious.
Another voice rose up from behind everybody. The voice of Edward Stone, criminal detective. "I'm afraid it is, my lady… He tells the truth."
Mary's arms detached completely from me, and she stepped back in shock. "M-Mr Stone…" She stuttered. "Please tell me I-you… Oh fuck it!"
I laughed, and all acting ceased. I rolled onto my back and looked over to her, all prettied up in her World War I nurse outfit. She was definitely angry with herself, but this was the best attempt all day.
"Bravo!" The distant voice of our director, Ms Emilia Duncan, echoed. "That was much, much better!"
"Such a shame Kiani cocked it up again." Edward Stone – or Oliver – commented with amusement. He pulled away his fake bushy moustache. He looked much better clean-shaven. It didn't look too great with his bouncy, slick black hair.
"You were so close!" Emilia said, clasping her hands together. It was supposed to be a compliment or signal of achievement, but Kiani was too proud to be drawn in. She nodded emptily and crossed her arms. It would take her no more than five minutes to forget it and move on like it never happened.
"We've got it nailed," George said, twiddling his fake pistol in his fingers. "Just iron out the creases, that's all."
Even though he'd shot me, and he was my main nemesis in the play, George was very close to me. We'd been close friends throughout the first two years of university, long before the four of us had combined our skills for the new play Ms Duncan had been writing. George and I had gotten to know Oliver and Kiani well in the short time we'd acted together. I didn't know them anywhere near as much, but we'd started to spend a lot of time together as a group lately. We acted in even when we were far from the stage.
Oliver was a little boisterous, and it was hard to get used to him at first, even though he didn't have a bad bone in his body. A bulky guy, too, he could be an intimidating presence if he'd ever stop smiling.
Kiani was stubborn but forgiving, and she had a voice so perfect for the stage. Her rendition of I Dreamed A Dream was truly stunning. She was clumsy, though, hence why she was always the one to bugger up her lines and bring everything to a halt. Her black hair was straight but she managed perfect curls at the tips around her shoulders.
George had always been the other half of my double-act since before university. At our school back in Somerset we would attend drama class after school, and somehow we'd always be each other's antagonists. Something about how we allowed knew each other's expressions, how we read each other like open books, allowed us to combine into something on stage that just worked. It was like driving the perfect car, or sipping the faultless wine.
People thought we were a couple. No. I was pretty sure he was gay. Maybe that's why he was such a good actor. Must be in their genes.
He had wonderfully masculine features: A strong chin, chiselled jaw and eyes that would make you melt. His hair was golden-blond, eyes brown.
That was them. A cluster of wannabe Broadway legends, no different to me. Since I had learned to talk I had taken on the roles of villains and goddesses, men and beasts. It was my passion, my dream.
Sometimes I would lose sense of who I really was. My real name was Amy. I kept having to remind myself. I could describe myself… but it would only be true in that moment. I was nobody, and everybody. That's who I loved to be.
"You all did brilliantly today," Ms Duncan congratulated, standing up tall from among the empty red theatre seats surrounding her. "We shall continue on Saturday, my little superstars!"
"Thank god," Oliver sighed, removing his big grey detective overcoat. "I'm sweating my bollocks off in this thing."
"I'm freezing." Kiani replied. She already looked like she'd gotten over her mistake, taking off her hairband with careful fingers.
I dusted myself off. The stitches of my skirt had trapped a lot of the dirt that had settled onto the stage. The place hadn't been used for a long time, having just been reopened for practises such as ours by the Arts School. Nobody had bothered to clean it. It had the horrible smell of old everywhere. It came as no surprise that there was no heating.
I didn't plan on a full change of clothing, so I dropped down from the stage and grabbed my coat from one of the many empty seats in the front row. I put it on and pulled my brunette hair from the collar.
"You both coming to The Riser?" Oliver asked, still taking off his excess clothing. It was a question directed at me and George.
George looked at me, as if I had to make the decision for him. Of course, that's how it always ended up going.
The Riser was a small pub just south of the Arts School, barely half a mile from the terrible theatre. Its full name was The Rising Sun. Every town had one. Oliver delighted in telling us last time we went there that it was the most common pub name in Britain. Oh, that's very interesting, I remembered saying to him. That took a lot of my acting ability. But whatever the name, it was a cosy little place not very different to the places my mum and dad used to take me back in my home county. There were old antiques covering as much of the white walls as possible, and the ceiling was a mosaic of old beer pump badges. A huge fireplace was a delight on cold evenings. And Douglas the old sheep dog… Yes, I wanted to go.
"Yeah, we'll come." I said with a smile.
Kiani went backstage for a more thorough change of clothing, meaning we'd have to wait around a little while longer. When Oliver and George found rugby to be the best source of conversation, I simply sat back in one of the creaky old seats and stared off into the distance, studying the rest of the scene that we'd failed to perform in my head. I could feel the words and the emotions I would need to portray for my secondary character when she returned. I would feel every hand movement and sweep across the stage. Her revenge on the character Bartholomew would be bittersweet, but a triumph of eloquent storytelling…
I became aware in the midst of daydreaming that Ms Duncan had not yet left. She was approaching me with that innocent, aged smile on her slender face. Outside of her frequent dramatization, she was just a sweet old lady with the biggest passion.
"Hey, Ms Duncan," I greeted. "Staying for the deleted scenes?"
"This is Behind the Scenes material, my dear," She said with a chuckle. She took a seat and the scent of lavender fragrance washed over me. "I just wanted to say how fantastic you were up there tonight."
I couldn't help but grin. Praise was like a succulent chocolate dessert after a mouth-watering main course. "Thank you so much! It's going so well, isn't it?"
"I can just feel it all," She said, illustrating power with her hands, eyes clenched shut. "The emotion and the loss. It's so beautiful! It's like I'm at Broadway sometimes. I just want to get lost in awe, the sweeping, swooping…" She helpfully demonstrated the motions with her hands. "I just feel it. My characters truly have come to life."
"It's a great story," I commented. "It's just so easy to be Sophia. She's so… secretive! I love it. I know she's meant to be one of the bad guys, but I can really sense part of myself in her. And George plays Bartholomew so well, that just makes it easier."
She opened her eyes again and looked right at me. "George is lovely, my dear, but you're something special."
Her voice had been lowered, quiet enough that it didn't invade the boys' conversation about the Ireland-France game.
"I am?"
She nodded. "I've watched you since you started in the Arts School. You're one of those… one of those bright sparks!" She said, again using her hands to further her point. "You're a natural. You're a superstar in the making. I picture…" She gazed off, up to the stage and beyond. "Mamma Rose. Velma Kelly. Mrs Lovett. Your range of styles is without limit."
"I don't think I'd do a good Mrs Lovett…" I giggled. "But thank you so much. It means a lot."
She placed a dainty hand on my arm and looked deeply into my eyes. "My dear, the world is yours for the taking."
"Thanks Ms Duncan!" Kiani called. She and the boys were heading for the exit, ready to leave.
"Run along now," She said to me. "I'll see you on Saturday. Have fun with your friends."
I said goodbye and chased after the others. Within me was a swell of great satisfaction. I'd been told time and time again what could be in store for me in the future, but with each new encouragement my hopes grew higher.
Yes, I would make it. The world would be mine for the taking.
But after that night at The Rising Sun, the world would become an entirely new stage, and I an actress far beyond poor old Sophia. This would be my last play, and the stage was finally set.