Setting The Scene

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On Monday, Roger caught up to Mark as he was opening the door into the auditorium. "Hey, how ya feeling?"

Mark forced a smile. He'd spent almost every moment after Roger drove him home Saturday night studying lines. He was going to fail an English test because of it, too, he knew it. But he didn't think all that attempted memorizing had done any good. No need to tell Roger that, though.

"Fine," he said, walking down the aisle and spotting Maureen and Benny sitting together in the third row. "I feel great."

Roger looked at him, then looked away as he smiled. "You fucking liar. You protest too much, Mark."

Mark ignored him, waving when he saw Maureen look up and heading over to sit beside her, Roger close behind.

"Hey, guys," he said. He noticed that Benny had his hand on Maureen's thigh. He caught her eye, glanced at that hand, and then looked up again, raising an eyebrow. She smirked and shook her head.

"So, Mark," she said, looking him up and down shrewdly. "You're looking milkier than usual. Are you scared shitless yet?"

Mark quickly glanced at Roger. "Shut up, Maureen."

"What?" Maureen asked innocently. "Just 'cause that one time in sixth grade – "

"Maureen, shut up!" Mark interrupted frantically as Benny cracked up.

"Oh, man, I remember that now! Lazar actually fucking picked you up and dragged you to the bathroom – "

"What?" Roger laughed, startled.

"Didn't you know?" Maureen grinned. "Mark has terrible stage fright. I nearly died when I saw he was in this class."

Roger looked questioningly at Mark, who threw a deadly look Maureen's way. "She's full of shit. I don't have stage fright."

Benny stared. "Mark. You puked at our sixth-grade graduation."

Mark blushed furiously. "I had the flu! And … and it was just a little …" Mark trailed off, feeling pathetic as his three friends laughed. "Fuck."

Roger leaned his head close to Mark's, still grinning, but not laughing like a couple of fucking hyenas like those traitors Maureen and Benny.

"It's okay, Mark," Roger said quietly, Mark leaning in closer and straining to hear. "The first time I went to an open mic night I never even made it up to the stage."

Mark pulled back and looked at him, smiling a little. "Really?"

Roger nodded, face close but staring at the stage in front of them. "I chickened out the second they called my name and ran for it."

Mark laughed quietly, feeling like he didn't have quite enough breath for it. "No way."

Roger smiled. "Yup." He turned to look at Mark, staring seriously at him. "But the next week I went back and got on that stage. I sang one song, and then got the hell out of there. I still get nervous, but …" He shrugged. "It's not as bad."

Mark looked at the stage, trying not to think about getting up on it in the next forty-five minutes. He didn't have stage fright. He just … didn't like being on stage. Mark turned when he heard Roger chuckle and felt the other boy leaning towards him again, his face close.

"Besides, I'll be up there with you. You'll be fine."

Mark didn't have time for anything other than a bright smile before the bell rang and Ms. Dalaine stepped onto the stage.

"Okay, I hope you've got your scenes ready, 'cause I'm ready to watch."

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Mark sat in the auditorium, marveling at how all the other kids were able to just get up there, say their lines, and then sit back down again. As if it was nothing. Mark didn't mind being the center of attention when he chose to be – but being put on a stage and having to say lines you were supposed to have memorized felt a lot more nerve-wracking.

He didn't pay attention to how many people had gone; but his head snapped to attention when he heard Ms. Dalaine say his and Roger's names.

"Okay, boys," she said, turning around from her seat in the front row and grinning. "Let's see what you've got."

Roger stood and walked easily up the stairs and onto the stage, disappearing behind one of the wings a moment and then reemerging dragging one of the small tables from the back to the centre of the stage. Mark stood slowly, watching Roger as he approached the stage. He'd be fine.

Mark hopped up onto one end of the table, side to the audience, and Roger sat on the floor in front of him, facing all those people. He looked up at Mark and smiled, and Mark sighed. He turned a bit and reached up, giving a few tentative swipes at the air as if he was painting something, and feeling like a complete asshole.

Roger spoke up, looking at Mark, his voice strong and clear. "Why not? ...You can't say ya won't, Tony boy, without sayin' why not?" Roger jumped up, facing him, and spread his arms. "Because it's me askin' – Riff. Womb to tomb!

Mark swallowed, gave another swipe at the air. "Sperm to worm! You sure this looks like skywritin'?"

Roger grinned at him. "It's brilliant."

Mark swiveled where he was sitting, so he could look straight at Roger and was facing the audience. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands were shaking, but he was doing it. His next words rang out more clearly, more ease in his voice. "Twenty-seven years the boss has had that drugstore. I wanna surprise him with a new sign."

Roger grinned and hopped up onto the table beside Mark and flung an arm around his shoulders. They hadn't rehearsed that. "Tony, this is important!"

Mark looked at him, then looked to the lighting booth at the back of the auditorium. Shit. Shit!

"Um … I …"

Mark looked at Roger, panicked, as if he could somehow say the words for him. He knew that he'd forget the lines from this stupid scene, all weekend he'd prepared himself for this moment even as he re-read the script over and over again.

But now it was here, the lights were seeming to burn his eyes, Roger's arm was still around his shoulders and everybody was fucking staring at him. Ms. Dalaine's words came back to haunt him.

What else did you expect?

Mark's shoulders slumped; he caught Roger's concerned look out of the corner of his eye. He turned away from Roger, faced what looked like a sea of faces and tried to speak. He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry. I forgot the words."

Some part of him had expected laughter, but none came. He could see Maureen and Benny looking at him sympathetically, and everyone else seemed pretty serious, too. Not even a smirk to be found.

Ms. Dalaine cleared her throat. "That's fine, Mark. It happens to everybody sooner or later – the actor's nightmare." She smiled kindly as Roger and Mark slid off the table, Roger pulling away to slide the table to its original spot backstage. "The rest of the scene seemed good, though." Mark started to breathe a sigh of relief before she continued. "Still, I'd like to see you after school today, okay?"

Mark nodded miserably, and left the stage, not looking up as he settled into his seat. He felt Maureen's hand pat his knee and Roger's shoulder bump his gently a moment later as Roger sat back down beside him.

"Hey," Benny whispered, leaning over Maureen. "At least you didn't puke."

- - - - - - - - - -

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Mark was at his locker at the end of the day, gathering the books he needed, when they converged. When he slammed his locker shut and turned around, Roger, Benny and Maureen were all standing right in front of him.

"Hey," Roger said, smiling slightly. "Thought you might want some moral support."

Maureen nodded. "Benny and I thought that, too."

Mark looked at them all. "Guys, I'm fine, really."

Benny looked at him skeptically. "Yeah?"

Mark smiled. "Yeah. The worst part is over." He chuckled. "I hope."

Maureen grinned. "It was painful."

Roger looked at her. "Hey. Watch it."

Maureen looked up at him, an amused expression on her face. "What do you think you're doing?"

Roger grinned and stepped closer to Mark. "Don't tease him, or I might have a nasty episode." He looked down earnestly into Mark's face. "I haven't been taking my medications, you know."

Maureen stared at him a minute, then snorted and grinned. "That might work on some shivering freshman, Davis, but it won't work on me."

Roger grinned and bit his lip, and Mark started walking away. "You guys. I've gotta go meet up with Dalaine."

"We'll walk with you," Roger said, falling into step beside him. Maureen and Benny followed.

"So, Maureen," Roger said casually. "Mark tells me you've been spreading rumors about me."

"I haven't spread any rumors," Maureen said after a second, sounding flustered. "I just – I just told him what I heard someone else saying."

Roger looked at Mark and rolled his eyes. "Otherwise known as spreading a rumor."

Maureen sputtered a little and Mark laughed, enjoying seeing Maureen squirm a little. But she recovered quickly.

"Gossiping and spreading a rumor are entirely different," she said, quickening her steps to get in front of Mark and Roger, walking backwards as she spoke. "Spreading a rumor implies creation of that rumor. And I didn't create anything." She paused, fixing Roger with a hard look. "But those rumors had to have started somewhere."

Mark laughed. "Seriously, Maureen, give it up. Roger's got no dirt for you to excavate."

They arrived at the door, and Mark turned to his friends. "Thanks. Now get the fuck out of here."

Benny grinned and slung an arm around a protesting Maureen, dragging her away even as she insisted on going in with Mark. Roger grinned after them, then turned back to Mark. "You sure you're okay? You want me to wait, we can hang out after?"

Mark smiled. "We can hang out, but not because I'm freaking out or anything. Honest, I'm fine. I'm sure this is nothing."

Roger nodded. "Okay. Look, I'll wait for you in the parking lot, okay?"

Mark grinned. "Yeah. Great."

Roger walked off, and Mark turned back towards the door, hesitating before going in. What was the worst that could happen, anyway? She'd kick him out of class. He'd still get to see Roger. And Maureen and Benny. It's not like they'd suddenly ditch him or something. And it's not like he'd be expelled for forgetting his fucking lines. And he wasn't worth murdering.

Mark allowed himself a small grin and entered the backstage area of the auditorium, seeing Ms. Dalaine sitting at her desk, and feeling a little surprised to hear Madonna playing on her radio. Mark cleared his throat.

"Uh, Ms. Dalaine? You wanted to see me?"

She turned around, smiling, and reached over to turn off her radio. "Mark, yes." She gestured to the dilapidated red couch sitting parallel to her desk. "Please, sit."

Mark sat down, sinking into the couch and struggling to look dignified as he was engulfed by the pillows. "I'm really sorry about today."

Ms. Dalaine waved away his apology. "Honestly, Mark, it happens to everyone." She smiled, staring at him. "Don't worry about it."

"But – then why – "

The teacher scooted her chair a little closer, leaning over the side of it to face Mark more fully. "You don't like my class, do you Mark?"

He looked up sharply. "I – no! No, I just – "

She laughed, holding up a hand again. "Easy. I just meant, you don't like drama, do you?"

Mark relaxed. "No. I – I didn't even want to take this class. It was kind of sprung on me."

She smiled. "A lot of my best students start out saying the same thing."

Mark looked up at her, and she swiveled her chair back to face her desk. "Look, I know it's not easy stuff for someone who's not used to it. Our semester together is broken up into two units – this one is the introductory one, we get to know each other, explore a little, have fun."

Mark tried to keep a straight face. Fun.

"And the second unit – which starts next week – we break into groups and put on a show."

Mark's stomach clenched. Oh shit.

"Do … do we have to perform for the whole school?"

Ms. Dalaine threw him a wry little grin. "I think you should think about directing. A lot of people in this class are going to want to be onstage and not behind the scenes, so we'll probably be short people who actually want to be doing that. Besides," she said, turning to face him again, "I think you'd be good at it. And you get the same grade evaluation directing as you would acting." She smiled, a real, genuine smile. "It's all theatre."

Mark grinned. "Okay. That sounds really good."

She clapped. "Good! Now get out of here, I have very, very important work to do."

Still grinning and feeling a bit dazed, Mark hurried out of the classroom. Unbelievable. He wasn't being punished, Ms. Dalaine was less of a freak than he thought, and even better, he wouldn't have to get up and perform on a stage again.

Mark hurried through the mostly empty halls, bursting out the door that led to the parking lot. There weren't a lot of cars there, and the brown one with the boy sitting on the hood stood out easily. Mark rushed over, grinning, and Roger hopped off his car.

"So?"

"So, she wants me to direct! No more acting!"

Roger laughed and clapped Mark's shoulder. "Perfect!"

"I know!"

Roger grinned and walked to the side of the car. "Get in. You wanna come to my house?"

"Sure," Mark said, climbing into the car and pulling on his seat belt as Roger settled in next to him. "Sounds good."

Roger started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, suddenly reaching down between he and Mark and coming back up with a bottle of Coke. One hand on the wheel, he unscrewed the lid with his teeth and carelessly dropped the cap before taking a long drink.

He noticed Mark staring and nodded towards him, holding out the bottle. "Want some? It's warm, but …"

Mark nodded, taking the bottle. "Thanks."

"So," Roger said, looking over as Mark stared at the bottle a moment before taking a drink. "You're gonna be directing. I hope you know I expect you to give me, and not Maureen, the best part in whatever thing you put on." He grinned. "Get her back for telling people I'm some kind of whacked out serial killer." He nodded, mock serious as he watched the road. "I definitely want to be the lead."

Mark took another long swallow of the Coke, watching Roger out of the corner of his eye. The hand holding the bottle fell to his side, and he wiped at his mouth before handing the bottle back to Roger and turning to stare out his window.

"Don't worry," he said, not daring to look Roger's way. "I think you will be."