Chapter 3 #2
‘Honestly, this is exactly what I needed,’ I whisper to Zeb, Jas and Gabby, who grin at me.
But as the film picks up for a big production number, it seems here isn’t safe for 53me either.
Oisín’s a few rows in front, but he keeps turning to look at me and then whispering to a gaggle of new disciples he’s collected, who then burst out sniggering.
I’m honestly out of energy to play nice, so I stare him down.
I want him to be fully aware that I’m already bored of his games.
I try to focus on the delights of a classic musical, but when the whispering and laughing doesn’t stop from up front, I gesture to him, trying to convey ‘what the fuck is your problem?’
He gets up from his seat and comes to stand next to me in the aisle, the dim glow of the screen illuminating the smirk on his face and the hand on his hip.
‘Is there a reason you’re laughing at me over there?’
‘What?’ he says, smug. ‘You’re imagining things. I know you have a problem with me though. Why are you trying to affect my performance this year?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Me? Affect your performance? You can really say that with a straight face after the crap you pulled last year?’
He bats his eyelashes, faux innocently. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’
‘You know exactly what he’s talking about, Oisín,’ Zeb jumps in, furious but whispering so we don’t attract the attention of Gabby and Jas.
‘Ohhhhhhh.’ Oisín pantomimes, pretending to have a 54moment of realisation that Stanislavski, the theatrical fore-father of naturalism, would be ashamed of. ‘You mean the little mishap in the final? That was a silly mistake!’
‘Whatever you say,’ I huff, calling bullshit.
‘Honestly,’ Oisín asserts. ‘I’m not having your wounded pride bringing me down when I need to impress drama schools.’
‘Well, I’m not having you playing games to try to distract me either!’
Now that I know his tricks, it infuriates me that I was a sucker enough to fall for them last year.
‘Come on,’ he says, dropping some of his over-the-top bravado, even letting his hand fall from his hip. ‘There’s no need for us to be at each other’s throats, big boy.’
Maybe he’s talking about my height, but I’m experienced enough with his jabs to presume he’s talking about my weight. It makes my blood boil, but I won’t let him know that. ‘Sure thing. I’m going back to my room.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Zeb asks, and I look back to shake my head.
‘Nah, I just need a minute. One of us should get to enjoy Bernadette slay “Falling in Love with Love” at least.’
He smiles and lets me go. I ignore Oisín’s passive-aggressive wave ‘bye’ as I head out of the cinema, up in the lift and along the corridor to my room.
I’m not sure Room 709 is any better to be in than the cinema with Oisín.
55Maybe I’ll have to hide in the bathroom from Tarun, but at least I’ll be alone.
Fuck Oisín for getting in my head before day one is even through.
I swipe my room key and step inside, planning to enter the loo and call Dad as quickly as I can, but I stop immediately when I see Tarun.
He’s shaking intensely and gasping for air, curled up in a ball on the floor. ‘Tarun? Are you okay?’
He looks up, eyes wide with panic and trying to form a response, but no words come out. I rush into the room and round the other side of my bed to be closer to him. ‘What can I do to help?’
There’s no response though, instead he crumbles in on himself, rocking back and forth. Fuck! What are you meant to do in situations like this? I guess he’s having a panic attack. I crouch down and lightly put my hands on the side of his knees, so he knows that I’m there with him.
‘Tarun? I’m here… Has this happened before? Is there anything that helps?’
He can’t speak though. There must be something I can do. He looks so scared; he won’t be able to control his breathing soon. ‘Do you know the singing warm-up where you breathe in for four, hold for four and then exhale for four?’
Where I pull the notion from, I’ve no idea, but it’s the 56best idea I’ve got. It takes him a moment, but eventually I make out a nod amongst the shaking.
‘Great! I’m going to do it; why don’t you try to do it with me?’
I inhale and start to count with my fingers, before making a show of holding my breath and then letting all the air out of my lungs.
His breaths are too rapid and shallow to line up with me at first, but I keep ploughing on.
By my third round, he’s breathing in for two of my four counts, a vast improvement, and his shaking is slowing to a tremble.
‘Yes! You’re getting control back!’ I say, hoping to be encouraging rather than patronising.
We cycle again and again through the singing warm-up that I’ve never considered could be a centring exercise – almost meditative, and not just a way to train your lungs to hold a lengthy money note at the end of a song.
After a few more rounds, he’s sat himself up against his bed and his breaths are long and in sync with mine.
‘Th-thanks…’ he stammers, still shaky. ‘That’s … better…’
‘No problem!’ I say, sensing that he’s still not fully recovered though.
‘I … I can do the next bit myself… Can you turn away from me?’
‘Uhh … of course?’ I say, not sure what he’s about to do, but not fighting him as he recovers. I turn around.57
The sound of shuffling behind me is all I hear at first, but then a strange sound fills the room. It’s quiet, uncertain, but unmistakeable: the strumming of his guitar.
The tune is random and doesn’t click at first, picking at strings, before introducing strummed chords, each note becoming clearer and clearer. But then I recognise exactly what he’s playing – it’s ‘My Favourite Things’ from The Sound of Music.
The hairs on my arms stand up after the first verse; the beauty of a song that in the show distracts the Von Trapp children from a fearsome thunderstorm now being used to bring a scared and shaking boy back to earth from his own fears.
He plays the chorus, and his playing is messy but beautiful, frantic as he improvises around the chords to play the final note.
‘You … you can turn back around…’
I turn slowly and see him with his guitar in his grasp, letting out a slow exhale. He looks at me with so much fear that the indignation I felt about him only ten minutes ago evaporates.
‘Feeling better?’ I ask, and slowly he nods.
‘Aye … feeling better.’58
Tarun
Olly lets out a massive sigh, slouching down against the side of his double bed. ‘I’m glad. That looked pretty intense, Tarun…’
I feel the flush rise to my cheeks; no one has seen one of my panics in years, other than Mum.
‘Yeah … I’m sorry you had to see that…’
He shakes his head instantly, suddenly less of a show off. ‘You don’t need to apologise! You did so well managing it.’
My cheeks burn even redder. I played my guitar with him in the room.
‘Oh! Uhh … thanks.’
There’s a pause as Olly bites the inside of his cheek, I think considering what to say next. ‘So … I’m guessing this isn’t the first time this has happened?’
I nod. There’s no point lying to him, not now he’s seen. ‘That was a pretty bad one… Different things … set them off.’
Olly, up until now so brash, looks down at his hands in his lap and seems … small. ‘And was that because of what Zeb said? Because of something I did?’
‘I…’ I say, knowing the polite thing is to say it had nothing to do with that, but that’s not true. ‘I guess? But it’s not your fault. It’s my own for thinking I had what it 59takes to come here… To do musicals… Zeb was right: I don’t belong here.’
Olly’s shoulders slump. ‘He didn’t mean that. It’s just … you seemed so unwilling to be here this morning! If you’ve been nominated, you have as much right to be here as anyone else.’
I shake my head, refusing to believe him. ‘No. I was a replacement from the reserve list anyway! I’ve taken the spot of someone who lives and breathes musicals like all of you… Not someone who’s only been allowed to take part in them since they turned sixteen.’
‘Allowed?’ Olly repeats, and I know I’ve said too much. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s nothing,’ I say, not ready to think about Dad and how ashamed he’d be of me if he saw me, snivelling on the floor during a residential musical-theatre competition.
‘I just… I do like musicals. A lot. But I only started taking part in them a year ago, when my parents split, so I don’t know everything you guys know.
I want to be here, and I like performing, even if it scares me sometimes.
And I’m trying to watch as many as I can find online!
But I’m sorry I came across as a moody arse this morning.
It was overwhelming to figure out in real time how … far behind you all I am.’
Olly’s staring at me like he’s seeing me in a whole new light. ‘I’m sorry for thinking that just because you don’t 60know bloody “I Saw Him Once” you don’t love musicals… That’s no qualifier at all.’
‘No, but, you and Zeb are still right. I’m not experienced enough to be here. Not when you’re all such experts… I think I’m going to drop out.’
‘No,’ he says, leaning forward, suddenly animated.
‘Tarun, you care! That’s all Zeb and I were getting our backs up about.
I’m so sorry… Sorry for judging you before I knew you.
Who are we to decide who gets to be finalists anyway?
Straight boy or not, if you love musicals, and that rush of being on stage, you’re one of us.
No way are you dropping out because my attitude made you feel like you don’t know enough to be here! You do. I promise.’
He’s being so nice to me… After the animosity between us, it feels weird. But better. Even if I’m not willing to correct him that I’m not straight. I fear that would lead to a parade of questions that I’m nowhere near experienced enough to answer.
‘Alright…’ I say.
‘And you’re obviously a gifted musician, with the guitar and everything. Does that help your…’
‘Panic attacks? Aye. It’s my way to … ground myself, once the height of the worrying has passed.
I can normally calm the less extreme ones by listing what each of my senses are experiencing, stating facts to quiet the noise in my head.
I then mess around on the guitar to distract 61myself.
Got a lot of practice over the years by trying to stop myself thinking about stuff. ’
‘You played so well. You should accompany yourself in the final!’
I shake my head. ‘The guitar… It’s not something I do to show off. It’s just for me. That’s why I couldn’t do it with you watching me.’
‘But you’re so good!’
‘Pfft… I’m nothing special.’ He opens his mouth to protest, but I carry on before he can say anything. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done tonight… Helping me breathe and turning around and not … judging me. But can this be something we keep to ourselves? Why I play the guitar and the … wobbles?’
He seems to sense that this is important so, instead of telling me ‘it’s a waste not to share my talent’ like Mum always does, he says, ‘Of course. What happens in Room 709 stays in Room 709. Roommate Code of Honour.’
‘That’s grand,’ I say, and we smile easily at one another. ‘What brought you up here anyway? The film wasn’t over that quickly, was it?’
Folding his arm over his stomach, he says, ‘No it wasn’t. I needed a quick break. Which turned into a longer one when I saw you.’
‘A break?’
He goes to answer but changes his mind, shaking his 62head as he gets to his feet. ‘Just hot down in the cinema is all. I don’t know how much of it will be left now but we could go down together if you want? Show our faces at least?’
The question hovers between us for a few seconds whilst Olly smiles encouragingly.
It’s a smile that, when I first saw his profile picture on socials where he’s wearing a top hat and tuxedo on stage, I thought was too perfect to be real and just for the audience.
But he really does smile that big in real life.
‘Okay,’ I say, deciding that maybe, even if I’m not as qualified as everyone else, there are decent people here. ‘I told Ella I’d see her there so yeah … we should go.’ It’s also another chance to find out where Oisín’s head is at, but I don’t tell Olly that.
‘Great,’ he says, offering his hand to me and, once I’ve put my guitar safely down, I take it and let him pull me up. When I land, I’m standing right beside him – having to look all the way up to see his face above me. I back away, not wanting to be in his personal space.
‘Shall we?’ he asks, apparently unfazed, and I nod, prompting him to turn and head for the door. I follow – surprised after everything that’s happened today that we’re heading in the same direction.