Rain (Hudson 1)

"No, a thespian," Pauline Bogart said with a laugh. "She's in every one of Mr. Bufurd's

productions?'

"She has a mad crush on him," Maureen said gleefully.

"So do you," Tamatha Stevens accused. Before Maureen could deny it, Tamatha added, "So do I. So does everyone. You're so lucky to have him as your adviser, Rain," she told me. "If I had him, I'd have hundreds of problems to solve every day."

She laughed and the others joined her. They giggled almost all the way to the next class.

No wonder Mr. Bufurd referred to them as bubbles, I thought and laughed myself.

Was I too relaxed? Was this all too easy? Without girls like Nicole waiting to pounce on me in the bathroom, this school did seem safe.

Or was that all just an illusion? It's better to be cautious, I thought. Nothing has ever come to me easy in this life. There's no reason to believe it will now.

At the end of the day, I was scheduled to report to Mr. Bufurd to ask any questions and get some more information about the school, but he informed me after I entered the classroom that he had begun casting for his production of Our Town.

"I can't sp

end as much time with you today, but I can tomorrow ding your study period. I have a free period that hour, too," he explained. "Are there any blatant problems we can solve quickly?"

"No," I said. "Everything is fine so far. I have a little more to catch up on in math, but I think I'll be all right."

"I like that," he said nodding and fixing those beautiful green orbs on me, "confidence without an air of arrogance. It's refreshing." He thought for a moment and then asked, "You haven't had an easy time of it, have you?"

"No, not an easy time," I said.

"I'll tell you a big secret," he said, "I come from a hard-working family. I'm still paying off education loans." He gathered his books into his briefcase and then paused to look at me. "Were you ever in any school plays?"

"No," I said.

"Why don't you hang around for tryouts?"

I started to shake my head.

"You've got nothing to lose. We don't penalize you if you're not cast. It's the best way to fit right into a new school, get involved in something," he advised. "You should listen to me. I'm your official adviser?'

"My driver is supposed to pick me up in a half hour," I said looking at the clock.

"I'll put you up first," he said. "Walk with me to the theater and we'll continue our talk. Come on," he urged. "It's painless."

I laughed.

"Okay," I said.

I liked him because he didn't just ask questions. He continued to volunteer information about himself, how he came from a family with three sisters, grew up outside of Baltimore, vacillated between a career in the theater and education, and finally decided to be a teacher.

"You'd probably be a good actor," I told him.

"Maybe, but in the arts it takes more than just being good; it takes what I call bloodthirsty

determination. You turn your head and neck into a battering ram and just keep going at the door until it opens a little and then you compete, learn how to sell yourself, trample over others until you get your name on that marquee. I guess I didn't have the stomach for the crusade, although getting my bubbles to care about Shakespeare is probably just as difficult a battle.

"It's nice to meet someone who has a little selfmotivation," he added, and gestured toward the entrance to the theater. "Here we are:'

I took a deep breath and walked in with him. The lobby was as clean and beautiful as the lobby of the administrative building. It had a ticket office, a coat room, a place for refreshments and display cases on the walls for play posters. The ones from the last production, Anything Goes, were still up.

He opened the doors to the theater.