Abby Sideris entered the River Heights High School auditorium in her usual whirlwind of scarves and fringe, a single dramatic breath announcing her arrival. Students had been buzzing about the new teacher for days—stories of her last job in San Francisco whispered among the cliques. She was supposed to be eccentric, flamboyant, a little mysterious, but nobody expected this.
"Good morning, my little thespians!" Abby called out to a half-empty auditorium, startling a freshman who had been quietly working on a set piece. "Or should I say... good morning, fellow storytellers?" She twirled toward center stage, her many necklaces jingling as her long burgundy skirt swished around her. "For that's what we are, you know. Not just actors or set-builders or costume stitchers—no, no! Storytellers!"
In the middle of the second row, Rose Green adjusted her glasses and tried not to let her face betray anything but polite interest. At seventeen, Rose was practical to a fault and had little patience for whimsy, especially whimsy that threatened to derail what she saw as the most important class at River Heights High—theater. Still, there was no denying the electric energy in the room as Abby Sideris delivered her impromptu monologue about the magic of storytelling.
When the speech concluded, Abby gave the students a broad smile. "I want to know your stories—what brought you to the stage. You." She pointed straight at Rose.
Rose stiffened as the attention fell on her. "I…" She cleared her throat. "I want to go into production work. I want to direct plays someday. I like when everything is organized and everyone works together."
Abby clasped her hands over her heart like Rose had just delivered a Shakespearean soliloquy. "Oh, wonderful! A leader! A visionary!" She spread her arms wide. "Theater needs its anchors, dear. The ones who steady the ship as it sails through stormy seas."
Rose turned red, but she found herself softening toward Abby. The woman may have been over the top, but she clearly cared.