The Auditions
Suppose all ya ever had for breakfast was onion rolls. Now, all of a sudden, one morning, in walks a bagel. You take a look at it and you say 'What is that?' Until you tried it! That's my trouble! I'm a bagel on a plate full of onion rolls! Nobody recognizes me! Listen, I got 36 expressions. Sweet as pie and tough as leather. And that's six expressions more than all those… Barrymores put together. Instead of just kicking me, why don't they give me a lift? Well, it must be a plot, 'cause they're scared that I got… such a gift! 'Cause I'm the greatest star, I am by far, but no one knows it. Wait! They're gonna hear a voice, a silver flute. They'll cheer each toot, hey, she's terrific! When I expose it. Now can't you see to look at me that I'm a natural Camille, and as Camille, I just feel, I've so much to offer. Kid, I know I'd be divine because I'm a natural cougher—ugh egh ugh—some ain't got it, not a lump. I'm a great big clump of talent! Laugh! They'll bend in half. Did you ever hear the story about the travelling salesman? A thousand jokes, stick around for the jokes. A thousand faces. I reiterate. When you're gifted, then you're gifted. These are facts, I've got no axe to grind. Ay! What are ya, blind! In all of the world so far, I'm the greatest star! No autographs, please. What? You think beautiful girls are gonna stay in style forever? I should say not! Any minute now they're gonna be out! Finished! Then it'll be my turn!...
"Who is the pip—"
"Thank you! Miss…" A man sits at a table in front of a small stage, where a short, brunette girl is standing, head held high. Another man and a woman are also sat at the table, going through several pages of paper and making marks.
"Berry," the girl answers. "Rachel Berry. I wasn't finished. I was just about to break into song."
"Yes, yes," the man says. "But this is the drama department. You don't have to sing for us."
"Of course," Rachel forces a smile on her face. "I have a great singing voice though. And I have some training in ballet, as well. I think it's very important for an actor—especially one of musical theater—to be trained in all disciplines of the performing arts—"
"Yes, Miss Berry, thank you," the man interrupts again. "If you'd like, you can audition for the music and dance departments. But again, this is the drama department."
"Right…" Rachel begins to walk off the stage and towards the classroom door, disheartened. "I hope I'll be hearing from you again. It's been my dream to attend the High School of Performing Arts since I was two weeks old."
"Miss Berry," the man calls. As Rachel opens the door to leave, she turns around expectantly. "You're very talented. I'm sure you will be hearing from us," he adds with a kind smile.
/ /
"5, 6, 7, 8!"
A group of adolescent dancers, with numbers pinned to their shirts, stand in formation in the center of the studio. When the lead dance instructor gives her signal, they begin to move in a synchronized routine. Their bodies twirl, and their legs kick into the air. A few students stare straight ahead at their reflections in the mirrors, determined looks on their faces, while others fail to keep up and are quickly weeded out from the group. Lining the edges of the room, are other young teens, waiting for their turn to dance. Some keep to themselves—either immersed in their own world as they warm-up their body, or watching the others, quietly judging who is good enough to continue and who is not.
A girl sits in a split position on the floor with her blonde hair held up in a tight bun. As she stretches her legs, she examines the other dance studio candidates. Her focus moves towards the three dance teachers at the front of the classroom. She watches as they observe each person currently on the dance floor, their eyes moving from student to student, occasionally looking down at their clipboards to take notes.
"Nervous?" the blonde dancer looks up to see a tall, Asian boy looking down at her.
"No. A little. Yes," she replies, brows furrowed. "I don't know."
The boy chuckles and sits down in front of her. "I'm Mike."
"Brittany."
"I'm nervous, too, if that makes you feel better," Mike says.
"Those teachers do look kind of intimidating," they look over at the teachers who all have stern looks on their faces, completely void of any other emotion.
"Okay, that's enough," one of the women say. "Next group up please."
Mike stands and holds a hand out to help Brittany up. "Good luck."
"Yeah, you too," Brittany replies.
As they both walk to their spots on the dance floor, a girl who was having a hard time in the previous group brushes past Brittany, tears streaming down her face.
/ /
Several students are lined up outside one of the drama classrooms. A boy sits with his legs crossed. He has one hand gripping his monologue book tightly, tapping his knee, with the other hand nervously patting his already well-kept hair.
"You know," a girl next to him says. "If you let your nerves get to you, it'll show."
"I'm not nervous," he says quickly.
"Sure, you're not," she laughs. "Seriously, just breathe. I'm sure you'll do fine." The boy nods his head with a small smile.
"Next!" They hear someone call out.
"Wish me luck," the boy stands up and straightens out his clothes. "Mercedes, was it?"
"Yeah," the girl answers. "Good luck, Kurt."
/ /
In the music room, a boy sporting a mohawk plays the guitar.
A girl with black hair and blue highlights concentrates on playing a classical piano piece.
Brittany and Mike dance through their audition, sweat dripping down their foreheads, but with the looks of quiet resolve.
Outside of the dance studio, a boy in a wheelchair watches them in longing as he passes the room, on his way to his drama audition.
A fast, loud beat can be heard as a largely built boy shows off his drumming skills.
A tan skinned girl warms up her voice, waiting for her turn.
"I know it's terrible, trying to have any faith, when people are doing such horrible things…" a young girl with blonde hair and hazel-green eyes recites her monologue. "But I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart."
/ /
"Santana!" At the sound of her name, the tan skinned girl turns around to find Brittany running down the front steps of Performing Arts. "How'd you do?"
Santana rolls her eyes and flips her hair. "I kicked that song square in the balls. How about you?"
"I think I did okay," Brittany looks down and plays with the hem of her jacket.
"Please, I bet you did great!" Santana says, making Brittany smile. "We're both gonna get in. Don't worry about it."
"Promise?"
Santana holds out her pinky finger. "Pinky promise." As they leave, Santana walks into the hazel-eyed girl hailing a taxi cab. "Watch it, Princess."
The girl just scoffs and holds her chin up high as she climbs into a cab.
Kurt exits the building with a huff, the drummer boy following closely behind. "Kurt, it couldn't have been that bad."
"You weren't there, Finn. It was terrible. I completely choked."
"I think you're just over-exaggerating. Come on, let's go. Mom and Burt are waiting at the restaurant."
/ /
Rachel sits in front of the telephone, staring at it intently. She's been sitting there for almost two hours, waiting for the call. Her fingers tap against the table and she begins to think the phone will never ring.
"Sometimes I wonder where I've been…" she sings quietly to herself. She lowers her head and rests her chin on forearms. "We're always proving who we are…"
When the phone rings, she jolts upright, surprised by the sudden noise. She hesitates before she reaches for the phone. She clears her throat as she answers.
"Hello, you've reached the Berry residence… This is she… Mhmm… Yes… Okay… Thank you… I understand… Thank you… Bye…" Her hand shakes as she places the phone back on the receiver.
"Honey, who was it?" One of her dads asks as he walks into the kitchen. He stops when he just sees Rachel sitting by the telephone, her shoulders sagging and an unreadable expression on her face.
She's quiet for a few more moments before she slowly lifts her head towards him, tears brimming her eyelids. "Daddy, I got in… I got in, Daddy…" She says twice. "I'm going to be a star."