Bellamy's Redemption

“Thanks. I hope you’re right,” she said, blowing her nose into the hem of her dirndl.

“Wait, wait, I forgot my line,” we heard the woman named Aubrey saying. “And these shoes! These shoes hurt so bad! I’m getting splinters in my toes. Can I take a look at my script and start over? Please?”

“No, just do your best to remember,” said the director.

“I’m telling you, I don’t remember it at all. Can’t you give me a hint?” She was crying now too; I could barely understand her through the blubbering.

“Now that she forgot her lines, I’m totally thrown off,” said Delores. “This is unfair to me. The momentum is, like, gone.”

“I think you’re safe,” I said to Shyla.

“If you’re done you can go change,” said one of the assistants. Shyla and I got up and went back to the dressing room. There were juice boxes resting in a big cooler of ice, and thi

ngs to make sandwiches.

“This is so lame,” said Caj, fixing herself a slice of Swiss cheese and tomatoes on rye. She had changed back into white jeans, zebra striped sandals, and a gold strapless top.

“You really think so?” asked Deb. “I think it’s exciting!”

Aubrey joined us, hiccupping tears away. “What. A. Disaster,” she said.

“Nice. Seriously. Thanks a lot,” said Delores, following right behind her. “I would have been great, but because of you, I blew it. By the way, your line was the shortest: ‘Your porridge, sir?’ I mean, come on! Please! You had three words. Yet still you ruined it. You are totally pathetic.”

“Please stop yelling at me,” said Aubrey.

“Yeah, she feels bad enough,” I said.

“Butt out! This is none of your business, Blondie! I’ll yell at whoever I feel like yelling at,” said Delores. “You haven’t even heard me yell yet.”

Vanessa arrived last on the scene, beaming. “He kissed me,” she said.

“He did?” asked Caj. She set down her tomato sandwich and held her hand to her gold shiny stomach like she might be sick.

“Bellamy kissed you?” sniffed Aubrey.

“Yes! Can you believe it? Bellamy kissed me!” said Vanessa. She couldn’t stop smiling and fanning herself, and her Southern accent had gotten turned up a notch from the excitement. “Y’all, I just gotta say, it was amazing. He is a great kisser! His lips are so soft. Like two velvet flower petals, but, you know, masculine.”

“How did it happen?” I asked.

“We were the last two on stage. I delivered my lines, and as soon as I said the part about my luck being a’changing, just like that, he kissed me.”

“Did the director tell him to?” asked Shyla.

“No,” said Vanessa. “He just did it all on his own. And then, he gave me these,” she said, holding back her hair and showing off dangling sapphire earrings. “I guess this means I am safe for another round.”

“Oh my God,” said Aubrey. “You get a bracelet at the cocktail party, now this. Clearly, you’re his favorite.”

“I don’t think so,” said Vanessa, rubbing her earrings thoughtfully. “Have you noticed how many of you are blonde? I’m not blonde. I don’t think I’m his type.”

“There are all kinds of types here. I don’t think he has a type. And even if he did, your hair is light brown. That is practically the same thing as dark blonde. Am I right? Whatever. You’re his favorite and you know it,” said Aubrey.

“It’s strange that he likes you so much, considering I’m here,” said Caj, glaring at Vanessa. She took a bite of her sandwich and shrugged, seeming genuinely perplexed by the unlikeness of not being someone’s first choice.

“Delores, could I have a word with you?” We all looked up to see Bellamy standing before us, still wearing his costume and wig.

“Sure,” she said. Her face turned as pale as her long white-blonde hair. She followed him out of the room.

“I can’t believe he just showed up like that! What if we’d still been changing our clothes? Yikers! That would have been ultra-embarrassing,” said Deb, rubbing her hands up and down her arms and grimacing.