Arcadia High School Drama Department

Grease Cast List

Sandy… Clarke Griffin

Danny… Bellamy Blake

Rizzo… Lexa Trikru

Kenickie… Jasper Jordan

Frenchy… Harper McIntyre

Roger… Wells Jaha

"You've got to be shitting me." Bellamy said in disbelief as he checked the cast list during lunch.

"Isn't that like, the biggest part?" his friend Nathan asked him pointing to 'Danny.'

Bellamy nodded and Nathan laughed. "You are screwed."

Bellamy shoved Nathan off and let his new reality sink in: he was cast as Danny. This seemingly easy punishment was turning into an encompassing task. He had no idea why he was cast, he had never done drama before. Wells should have gotten the part, and he grimaced thinking of Clarke's reaction. She was going to be pissed.

"Later," Bellamy said to Nathan and headed to the theater. He threw open the doors and climbed onstage to try and find Mrs. Green to talk her out of this insane choice. The theater was creepy without students in it, odd shapes and shadows lurking in the corners. There were stray props littered around the edges of the stage and piles of different fabric in disorganized stacks on the stage.

"Mrs. Green? Mrs. Green!"

"Yes, Bellamy?" Mrs. Green emerged from behind a scrap pile of denim. She smiled at him and Bellamy felt a lurch of guilt for what he was hoping to accomplish. "Congratulations on your role."

"Yeah, that's what I came here to talk to you about," he began tentatively. "I'm not sure if you know, but I have to be in the play. Principal Jaha is making me."

"I'm aware of your circumstances, Bellamy."

"Right, so, I was hoping I could be an extra, or like a tree, or some small—"

"MRS. GREEN!" In a matter of moments, Clarke Griffin rounded the middle aisle of the house looking deeply annoyed. But come to think of it, Clarke always looked annoyed. She took in Bellamy's appearance but decided to ignore it, turning to face Mrs. Green.

"Congratulations, Clarke."

"Thank you. But Mrs. Green, you cannot be serious casting Bellamy as Danny. He has no experience and barely shows up to school—"

"She's right," Bellamy chimed in eagerly. "I was just telling her I wanted to be a tree."

"He would be a great tree!" Clarke exclaimed. "And really, in this racial climate, Mrs. Green, don't you think it would be wonderfully progressive of Arcadia High School to cast a black Danny?"

Bellamy actually laughed out loud before clapping his palm over his mouth. Clarke glared at him.

Mrs. Green looked amused before turning stern. "Bellamy, I cast you in this role because you have a great voice, good movement and already embody the character of Danny. Even if you find the acting a struggle, his lines and reactions should not be a reach. I will be there to coach you. I know you don't want to be here, but you may be pleasantly surprised how enjoyable this is.

"As for you, Clarke, I am disappointed. I was expecting more. I also was hoping you would see this as an opportunity to share your expertise and help out your fellow lead. If not, I don't know if I'll be able to use the first draft of your recommendation letter. I may have to change around a few things…"

"No!" Clarke panicked. "No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Green. I was just… surprised."

Oh, Mrs. Green was good. She ascribed to Clarke's ego and then simultaneously threatened her with a bad recommendation. Bellamy was impressed.

"Good, now that that's settled, I'll see you both at rehearsal tomorrow." Clarke and Bellamy understood themselves to be dismissed and walked out of the auditorium together.

Bellamy broke the silence. "Sorry I took your boyfriend's role."

Clarke snorted, "Wells? He's not my boyfriend."

"Really?" Clarke couldn't see Bellamy's eyebrows under the maroon beanie but assumed they were raised. "Poor guy."

"Excuse me?"

"Wells has obviously been into you since middle school. You forget we share most classes."

"When you bother showing up. And Wells is just my friend," Clarke snapped quickly. Various rumors like this had spread for the past few years and she squashed them as quickly as possible. The rumors made her uncomfortable and worried that Wells did have feelings with her when she had no desire to date Wells or jeopardize their friendship.

"Like I said, poor guy. Who is your boyfriend then, princess?"

Clarke picked up her speed, hoping to shake him off. "Don't have one." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

"That must be lonely."

They reached the main doors to the art wing. Clarke turned and rested her back against the door. Bellamy popped his hand next to her head and leaned in. She noticed his smell, pleasantly reminding her of the outdoors and rain. The beanie may have pushed his curly hair down to cover his brows, but his eyes were perfectly clear.

"Just because I don't have a boyfriend, doesn't mean I'm lonely." She thrust backwards to open the door with her hips and Bellamy lurched forward as it started to give. "Coming to class?" He regained his footing and shook his head. Clarke rolled her eyes. "See you tomorrow." She turned down the hall and waved without looking at him as she retreated.

She grinned to herself and then wondered, did she just flirt with Bellamy Blake?

Bellamy watched her go until the door clicked shut, he couldn't deny the excellent view she provided. Maybe there was more to Clarke's perfect façade after all. He grinned and turned the opposite direction to leave campus; he usually ditched last period. Art was an elective that he could easily make up work for and pass with minimal effort.

He cast his skateboard down to the pavement and cruised to his place of work, Dropship. It was a space themed kids' pizza palace. His manager, Indra, was not thrilled when he said he needed to cut back hours but understood once he explained. Indra always had a soft spot for Bellamy, and she let him take home the extra pizza free of charge for him and Octavia. He needed three more hours a day for practice, which meant he was losing fifteen hours a week. He agreed to stay an hour later each night and pick up a shift on weekends, but that was still four hours a week cut from his pay.

"It'll work out," Indra promised and he hoped she was right. His mom couldn't hold down a job for more than a few weeks at a time and he paid most of the household bills.

The next morning, Bellamy received an urgent pass to the principal's office.

"I have eyes everywhere, Mr. Blake. Cutting school is not part of the deal. You need to be here, every day, all day, and attend practices. Do I make myself clear?"

Bellamy grunted in agreement. His favorite hobby of being anywhere other than school was suddenly stripped from him and he was wondering if the diploma was really worth it. He entered the theater that afternoon with a sense of dread; he was going to be spending fifteen hours a week here. Probably more if he sucked as much as he did at tryouts.

To Clarke, the first day of rehearsal was routine, but exciting. It always involved passing out scripts and dry run throughs. Mrs. Green would share her vision for the show, which was usually artistic and odd. Clarke's sophomore year they did Midsummer Night's Dream set at Woodstock. Then there was the modern-day Cinderella, and Romeo and Juliet in the jungle. Mrs. Green helped Clarke fall in love with theater and see it as an art form.

The only dark spot today was Wells. His normally sunny disposition was clouded. Although he didn't vocalize it, Clarke knew he was upset with the cast list and expected to be cast as Danny. She tried cheering him up all day, bringing him his favorite Starbucks drink this morning, buying him a cookie at lunch, but none of it worked. He stayed quiet and distant throughout their shared classes and Clarke walked to the theater with him staying a step ahead. She was anticipating practice and she wouldn't let him bring her down.

To Bellamy, the first day of rehearsal felt like the first day of a lifelong prison sentence. Mrs. Green handed him the thick book and he felt a dull thrum of panic somewhere in the background of his consciousness—he had to memorize all of this? He tried to sit in the back of the stage but was pulled to the front by Mrs. Green and forced to sit center next to Clarke.

He chanced a side-glance at her and took in her appearance. He had always thought Clarke to be pretty, in the stuck-up, untouchable way. She was one of the few girls at Arcadia who had a great body but didn't constantly put it on display with short skirts and low cut blouses; she was a jeans-t-shirt-Converse girl, which he could appreciate.

"As most of you know, our musical, Grease, was originally set in the 1950's. While I believe the setting has merit, I want our students and community today to connect with the still relevant messages…"

Bellamy's gaze drifted over again and Clarke's brows were furrowed in concentration. She had a small leather notebook and was writing down phrases like "pressure to conform" and "polarizing stereotypes." Bellamy shook his head slightly and tried to tune back into Mrs. Green's address.

"…so, I think our best choice is to have our setting resemble Arcadia High as much as possible. Today, I want you to spend time with a partner, if you have an opposite they will be your partner, if not, please find one of the same gender. Read through the play together and then make a character bio. Who is your character? Who would they be today? What are their qualities? I'll be around to assist."

Clarke spun toward Bellamy once Mrs. Green stopped speaking. "Let's go to the back," she said enthusiastically.

Do I have a choice? Bellamy thought, but picked up his light backpack, skateboard and play book regardless. She led them through the minefield of props and fabric to the back room behind the stage. "This is the green room," Clarke explained. "The dressing rooms are behind those doors. This is where you get ready and then hang out when you're not on stage during a show." Bellamy nodded and tried to look mildly interested. "Not that you care," Clarke added. Apparently, he wasn't doing a good job.

"I'm here because I have to be," Bellamy said.

"What do you mean?"

"I got in a fight last week—"

"Big surprise," Clarke muttered. Bellamy raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, keep going."

"I got in a fight with that tool, John Murphy. Principal Jaha said I could either get expelled without a diploma or join a club and graduate."

Clarke whistled. "He saved your skin." Bellamy reluctantly nodded. "Theater is literally saving your life."

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "Okay princess, save it for the stage." He expected Clarke to bristle at the nickname but she took it in stride.

"What did you fight with John Murphy about?"

Bellamy's jaw clenched. "He said some shit about my sister."

Clarke nodded. "He slapped my ass freshman year, I'm not surprised. He's scummy." Bellamy's eyes flashed. He wished he punched Murphy a few more times now. "You don't regret it, do you?"

"Nope."

"I don't blame you." They found two chairs and grabbed seats opposite of one another. "Are you and your sister close?" Clarke asked.

Bellamy felt uneasy. He didn't enjoy talking about his personal life with anyone, not even Nathan whom he considered his best friend. And he used that term loosely. Ever since his dad left at a young age and his mother proved to be a barely more reliable substitute, he detached himself from other people. He didn't need anyone except Octavia. He worked, he paid the bills, he took care of them.

Clarke noticed his silence. "We're going to have to pretend we love each other. It would be easier if I knew something about you."

"So you can fall in love with me?" Bellamy teased.

Clarke rolled her eyes; he enjoyed her constant and easy sarcasm. "All set, thanks. But we'll have more chemistry if we get along in real life."

Bellamy didn't know much about acting, but he could see Clarke's logic. He sighed, "Okay first of all, princess, I like to keep my life private. I don't do twitter, Instagram, Facebook, snapchat or any of that artificial bullshit. Whatever we do talk about, I'd appreciate you keeping it between us."

Clarke was looking at him like she hadn't seen him before and then sat up a bit straighter. "Okay, no problem. I can do that."

"Second of all—"

"So many conditions for one question." Clarke quipped. Bellamy glared.

"I'm not looking for more people in my life. I'm just trying to graduate high school. And after this thing, we'll still be Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake."

Clarke's brows dropped together again. "So don't talk about you and then when the play is done, don't talk to you?"

Bellamy blanched. It sounded terrible when she said it that way. "I'm not saying don't talk to me. Just don't rely on me. I've got enough going on with working, school and this show, I don't have time to be a friend. I'll let you down."

Clarke studied him for a minute. Bellamy was revealing more of himself with these few conditions than he probably would have by answering the original question. And between her dad and Finn, Clarke was used to people being unreliable. At least Bellamy was clear and up front about it. "I'm used to it." She responded truthfully.

Bellamy's eyes were quickly showing themselves to be the most expressive part of him and he looked sad for a moment.

"Don't worry about it," she shrugged before he could say anything.

Just then, Mrs. Green burst into the back room. "How are my lead's doing with the character bios?"

"Haven't started," Clarke said sheepishly. "We've been getting to know each other a bit better."

"That's a smart idea," Mrs. Green praised. "I was going to suggest you two take some time to do that. You can read over the play after you've finished or at home before practice tomorrow." Clarke nodded vigorously. "I would like you each to share five stories or details about yourselves by the end of practice." Bellamy wasn't sure if he could think of five details about himself that were impactful or relevant. "Good luck!" Mrs. Green waved before exiting to the main stage.

Once she left, Bellamy heard Clarke's phone vibrate in her jeans. She quickly pulled out the device and tapped the screen. She shook her head slightly at the contents of whatever message or notification was displayed and clicked it to lock the screen without answering.

"Who was that?" Bellamy asked. "It can be your first story."

Clarke sighed. "It was Finn."

"Collins?"

"Yeah."

"What's the story there? Doesn't he have a girlfriend?" Bellamy was enjoying seeing Clarke squirm and deflecting attention from himself.

"Sometimes. She goes to another school. They're on and off. And when they're off—"

"You and Finn are on." Bellamy concluded.

"Right."

Bellamy frowned. "That doesn't seem like a great arrangement. At least, not for you. For Finn, yeah."

Clarke shrugged. "I don't want a boyfriend. I guess I don't like people relying on me either. Plus, it's senior year and I'm busy trying out for performance programs. I'm going to leave Arcadia after high school, I don't need to put down roots. And Finn is an okay guy. We met at summer camp this past summer and get along well… And other things work out in my favor." Clarke colored a spectacular shade of red.

Bellamy choked on his laughter. "I always painted you as a 'saving yourself for marriage' type."

"I'm a drama kid, not a Jesus freak."

Bellamy held up his hands in mock surrender. "My bad, princess." Clarke was more complex than he gave her credit for. She was more sarcastic and realistic than he

pictured, and apparently serious about pursuing art after high school, which he respected.

"Okay, now tell me about your sister. Octavia, right?"

"Yeah. She's a sophomore and tends to attract trouble. Most of the time I'm fighting someone for saying or doing something to her."

"What about your parents?"

Bellamy considered challenging that was a second question but he answered regardless. "Dad was out of the picture when I was young. My mom has got a bunch of

issues. She's around, but not much."

Clarke studied him. "So you're kind of on your own."

"Right… What about your parents?"

Clarke took a breath. "My dad is in jail and my mom works so much I barely see her." Bellamy tried to keep the look of surprise off his face, but his jaw popped open. "Yeah, how many princesses have imprisoned fathers?"

"Uh, not many."

"My mom and dad were partners at their own law firm. A few years ago, the finances were flagged for embezzlement. Millions of dollars disappearing off the books. Turns out my mom was behind it. The foreign bank accounts, the forged documents… but my dad took the fall for her. Said she was acting for him. He thought I needed my mother more than him." Clarke couldn't keep the acid out of her words.

"He was wrong?" Bellamy guessed.

"He was wrong," Clarke agreed. "The tension sucks so she just works constantly. We see each other a few hours on weekends."

Bellamy marveled at how different and yet similar their situations were. Clarke, on paper, had a much easier life than Bellamy. She had wealth, two parents that she knew, and no siblings to care for. But at the core, they were both loners.

"You're kind of on your own too," Bellamy said softly.

Clarke looked directly into his eyes and he noticed how dark the blue rings around her irises were for the first time. "Yeah."

And in the matter of a half hour, Bellamy and Clarke went from practically strangers to friends. Because when you're cut from the same cloth as someone else, when you find a second piece of your puzzle, you don't cast it out. Not when so few people have understood before.

You hold on.