Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the play Cats or the characters of Bombalurina or Misto... All the characters in this story are fictional though, and are not in any way based on real people. Well, not much...
Author's Note: Some of the chapters of this story may seem a little short. I originally wrote it as one long piece for a class, and decided it was good enough to post here. Updates will be quick, if my internet cooperates. The whole story is written already...
Chapter 1: The Theatre
The streets were cold and covered in snow. The girl slipped through the door into the lobby, shutting it quickly behind her. She pulled her coat off and walked into the empty theatre, grateful for the warm gust of air blowing down from a vent above the door. She looked around her, taking in the sight of the immense bare stage, the velour red seats, the lights hanging from the catwalk. Looking up behind her, she saw the balcony, with the wide ledge in front of the railing.
"Looking for something?" a voice asked from behind her. She jumped and turned around. There was a man standing there grinning. He was young, not much older than she was. He was tall and had an uneven smile, larger on the right side than the left. His short red hair framed his face where his glass green eyes shone from underneath his light eyebrows.
"Yes, the read through. For Cats," she muttered, feeling short and insignificant next to his vibrant persona. She swallowed and looked down at her hands holding her coat.
"Are you our new Bombalurina?" He asked, trying to fill the sudden silence.
"Yes. You?"
"Mistoffelees."
"That's my favorite song!" she blurted. "I listen to it all the time. I'm trying to listen to the songs I have to learn, but I just end up listening to your song. It's got great harmony. I love the dance that the original cast did. I can't wait to see you do it." Then she stopped and looked down again. "I kind of ramble on sometimes. Sorry." With that, the young man burst out laughing. He had a deep, genuine laugh. The girl couldn't help but join in.
"Glad to see I have a fan already," he said. "I haven't even learned the song yet." With that he held out his hand. She took it hesitantly and slowly shook it up and down.
"I'm Cara," she said.
"James. Lets go meet the cast," he said as he led her to the dance studio, where most of the cast was already waiting.
The first few weeks of music rehearsal were difficult. Seeming to notice this, James met her at the door every morning. As they walked to the rehearsal room, James tried everything possible to lighten Cara's mood and make her chuckle.
"O-M-G, major line at Starbucks today. I almost didn't get my coffee," James commented one time with a flash of his signature smile.
"Please tell me you didn't just say O-M-G," Cara said trying to hide her amusement by rolling her eyes.
"What, only girls can say O-M-G?" he asked innocently.
"Nobody should say O-M-G. It's not even a word!" Cara retorted. By that point they were at the door to the practice room. James held the door open for Cara as she passed, bowing low and murmuring, "After you, milady." Cara put one foot behind the other and dipped her head in a modest curtsey.
"Why thanks ever so, Sir James," she replied, and entered the room laughing.
Each pulling a folding chair off of the cart, the two separated, each moving to sit with their vocal groups. Cara usually sat next to her understudy, as they had to learn the same part. The two rarely had time to say more than a simple hello, though. The musical director kept them busy with scales and warm-ups for a quarter of an hour before they even started practicing. When the slow fifteen minutes had dragged by, they left the piano altogether to work on the lyrics.
Words. That's all they did for most of the morning. Words. Sitting in their semicircle with their scripts on their laps, they stumbled through the play, trying out the words and beats. They didn't learn even one note until they could all say the words in time to the proper rhythm. Those rehearsals seemed to drag on forever. Cara absently stared at her watch for whole "songs" at a time waiting for the hands to meet at 12:00 announcing lunch break.
Lunchtime was always fun. Every day they ordered in or took out lunch, the thirty-one Cats chowing down on sandwiches or Chinese noodles. They relaxed at lunch, breaking out of the characters they had to maintain for rehearsals. The professionals joked and teased each other, reminding Cara of kindergarteners. They fought over pickles, threw wrappers, slurped noodles. At first, Cara was uncomfortable, but soon she joined in. Slowly, she dissolved into the cast like the receding tide into the sand.