Chapter 14 #2
‘No more avoiding me. We need to talk now.’
Olly is led away by Zeb, who is surprisingly strong for someone who barely comes up to Olly’s armpits. ‘Speak later!’ Olly calls to me, waving in defeat.
But all around me is blurry and loud. This is all too much, and everything’s going wrong.
I run upstairs to my dressing room, needing to be away from the eyes of the cast. Now.
Olly
‘Zeb!’ I say when he finally lets go of my wrist in the alley next to the stage door.
‘Tell me exactly what Elaine and Marty have made you believe you need to do tonight.’
‘They just think, with my casting, I need to be careful about how I present myself. No gay songs, no limp wrists, it’s not a big deal! They’re just making sure I shine…’
He folds his arms, staring me down. ‘Shine? Like, be “sparkly”? Wouldn’t that be too gay for you?’
His words hit me with the force of a full company singing in eight-part harmony at the end of a show. ‘I… It’s complicated. Even you must be able to understand 238why I’ve got to consider what Marty’s telling me? I’m trying to show I’m the perfect leading man.’
‘I’ve always thought that’s exactly what you are. You have charisma and charm and a love of telling stories through song. In that performance earlier? You were flat and boring and ashamed. Why would you diminish the things that make you, you?’
‘Because I need to impress Marty and Elaine and the judges tonight.’
‘You think they care as much as I do? I’ve spent the last year plotting exactly how you get to live your dream as an actor while I live mine as a doctor.’
‘I know but they’re professionals, Zeb. They know better than us.’
Zeb shakes his head, slumping to rest on the edge of a bin. ‘Did you really feel the rush of performing then? While you were masquerading around with your straight-man walk and whatever weird thing you’re doing with your tongue?’
‘No,’ I say honestly. ‘But that’s because I haven’t practised enough yet.’
‘Olly! You’ll never be practised enough!
That’s my point. All that wonderful stuff inside of you that Marty’s currently made you resent will always be a part of you, so what use is there in hiding it?
Embrace it! Name me a Broadway legend who’s ever given anything other than their whole, brilliant self on stage? ’239
I hear him, his words resonate, but they don’t line up with what Marty has made me see. ‘I need to be better than brilliant. I need to be indestructible. The Phantom doesn’t have a lisp or an affectation in his walk. He’s someone the audience take seriously.’
‘And you think the way to do that is by being uncomfortable on stage? You know what people take seriously? What takes serious nerve? It’s someone who’s got through eighteen years of people picking on them, of growing up never seeing a fairytale where a boy gets the prince and still stays true to who they are. ’
‘So, what are you saying? That I’ve lost myself…’
‘You’ve always been a people pleaser, Olly, but you carried yourself with an impressive sense of self. Of right and wrong. You knew the right people to please.’
‘But Elaine and Marty want what’s best for me!’
He cocks his eyebrow. ‘Do they? Just because they’re in charge this week doesn’t mean they know what’s best. Do you not think it’s weird that Marty wants you to dim your light? He’s never dimmed his own…’
‘He … he wants me to impress the judges. That’s all. Marie Benton, the head of Ashford, she’s really old and he thinks she won’t like seeing a “strapping lad” be gay. It won’t fit her perception of my casting.’
‘Maybe it won’t. But what good is being a fake version of yourself for the rest of your career? Don’t be so blinded 240trying to get the approval of people you think matter right now, that you forget to get the approval of yourself.’
He huffs and heads back inside, leaving me alone with the litter and my thoughts.
I told Tarun at the beginning of the week what Zeb is trying to get through to me now: that the best way to make an impact on stage is to filter your own experiences through the character.
But Marty’s so adamant in his notes that I’ll be toast in the competition if I let the audience know who I truly am.
How can those two pieces of theatrical wisdom exist at once?
Tarun
I managed to make my way up to the dressing room, but I’ve been sat for fifteen minutes staring at the crimson wall ahead of me. The other boys in my dressing room have disappeared for lunch, but I was too drained to say goodbye to them.
My phone pings.
What’s this all about, son?
It’s my dad, sending a link to The Larry Awards page on 241socials.
I’ve been tagged in the group photo we took on stage.
My face is filled with a smile, surrounded by boys doing jazz hands and girls with their legs above their head, striking ‘stagey’ poses.
And I can only look at the image now through his eyes; so sure he was wearing the same look of shame he always had when I was a kid as he typed the message.
I put my phone down and close my eyes so I can’t see any more messages. My whole body judders with the shame and the panic and the—
‘Still here, are you?’ Oisín asks, swanning in and taking a bite out of an apple.
‘Aye,’ I say, doing everything in my power to inhale air and not break down in front of him.
‘Thought you’d be off canoodling with Olly by now. Seemed like you couldn’t keep your hands off each other earlier.’
‘Wh-what?’ How does he know about me and Olly?
‘Oh? Did you not see me? When you couldn’t find your shirt earlier, I came back to the quick-change area to check on you, but Olly was already there, pulling the shirt over your head and sucking your face off.’
Feck. He saw. ‘Have you told anyone?’
He laughs. ‘What? And admit that I made out with someone who’d willingly drop their standards to Olly Redmond? I’ve kept it to myself, don’t you worry. But 242maybe I should tell… Would make a nice distraction and take both your minds off the competition.’
‘You can’t do that! Not to Olly!’
He shrugs. ‘Well then … you might want to think about the offer I made to you at Billy Elliot again. Make sure you don’t steal my spotlight as Marius, and I’ll keep the news of you lovebirds to myself.’
I press my thumbnail into my palm, doing everything I can not to explode. ‘Just … go away, Oisín.’
‘Suit yourself!’ he says, picking up his tote and putting it on his shoulder. ‘But consider my offer seriously… I’m glad you’re distracting him from the competition either way.’
He leaves and my shoulders convulse. I try techniques my therapist has suggested in the past – to think of good things in my life, and count different colours in the room to distract myself – but the grey countertops fill me with dread and the lush red wallpaper reminds me of blood and horror.
The only things I know to be true are:
I’m not strong enough to perform on stage tonight. Boys who can’t control when panic attacks take over are not meant to be Larrys finalists.
I’m spoiling things for Olly by being here.
He was making Marty proud of his performance, convincing him he could be a straight leading man, and I 243distracted him.
If Oisín tells everyone, he’ll be even less focused.
If he doesn’t make the final six, it won’t be because he’s not the most talented. It’ll be because of me.
The look in Dad’s eyes. Even when he’s not here, just a message is enough to let me know he’s ashamed of me. It was stupid of me to think I could ever overcome that.
Hey! Sorry about running off – spoken to Zeb now
Have you headed out for lunch? I’m on my way to Wagas where I think most people are going
It’s from Olly, who doesn’t sound like Zeb’s torn his bollocks off at least.
Think I want some quiet time to myself
I have my snacks here so I’ll stay backstage
But that’s not true. I’m packing my bag and I’m leaving. I don’t have what it takes to be in the competition. I don’t belong here.
I’m not sure where I’m going but I know I can’t be here.
Everything will be better without me.