O, Your Heavenly Stars!

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<body class="centered-page"> <span class="special-text">O, Your Heavenly Stars!</span>  </body> <span class="special-text-2">//[[Start|Warning]]//</span>

<h1>Prologue: Opening Scene</h1> <h2>New York City, 2008</h2> <<audio "city" loop play>> Fara balls her hands into fists as the taxi stops in front of her building. As she left this morning she had hoped that by the time she got back from work the crowd would've dispersed or at the very least lessened. But no. The group of people on the sidewalk had multiplied and now were spilling on the street. She surveys them, tries to note their walks of life. Most are old, people who look like her grandfathers and grandmothers and that is being generous. She does see one or two people her age amongst them. They look like your typical film snobs. It makes Fara cringe. The driver clears his throat and she rummages in her purse, her eyes still focused on the crowd. Handing him a wrinkled bill she steps out of the taxi and into the cool Autumn air. She doesn’t have to look to see if cars are coming because all this commotion has caused traffic. And she was going to order a pizza. Another thing ruined. She tries to look for an opening but the crowd is pressed tighly together. She sighs angrily and even though it’ll make her look childish she wants to stomp her foot. This is her home for Christ’s sake! “Excuse me,” she says loudly. The people in front her don’t turn back. “Excuse me! I need to get through I live here!” she yells over the vicious genderless noise of a group of people talking simultaneously. Her voice, with much exhaustion, doesn't give the gravitas to make people notice her. This time she does stomp her foot, it’s unfair. Her boss has been on her ass all day with the cherry-on-top being that this day marks a week since her girlfriend stopped taking her calls. All this drama just because a stupid <<cycle '$stars' autoselect>><<option 'star'>><<option 'starlet'>><</cycle>> died. Why must she deal with the consequences of old age? //Note: if your character is female, change 'star' to 'starlet.'// [[⬘ Continue|Page 2]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>“Did you know him?” a curious voice asks Fara.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>“Did you know her?” a curious voice asks Fara.<</if>> Fara looks at the girl next to her. She’s short. Her hair is short, licking her ears. Even her shirt is short. She’s young, to Fara's surprise she's very young. Mostly likely still in high school. And in her hands, pressed against her chest is a Life Magazine. Judging from the curling of the yellowed edges, it’s old. On the front cover lies a black and white picture of the aforementioned celebrity. <<if $stars is 'star'>>He’s sitting in a chair, dressed in a simple but elegant tuxedo, a glass of alcohol in his hand. His dazzling smile tells of a charisma, a mischief that only movie stars from the Golden Age possessed.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>She’s laying on a bed to her side, a long white silk dress gently covers her figure. A wide, toothless smile painted in what Fara assumes to be red that tells of an allure, a mystery that only movie stars from the Golden Age possessed.<</if>> “So... did you?” Fara’s eyes snap back up at the girl who’s giving her a strange look. Fara was just staring at a kid’s chest for way too long. She wants to kick herself. But instead of being accused of being a creep she decides to try and please the girl. <<if $stars is 'star'>>Smiling, she replies, “know him, know him? No. He was a very private man.”<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>Smiling, she replies, “know her, know her? No. She was a very private lady.”<</if>> The girl nods, as if this confirms something she already knew. Maybe it does by the magazine she’s carrying. The crowd is pushed back and Fara almost stumbles down the sidewalk. The girl turns over her magazine and flips through it. Fara checks her watch and sighs. Ten minutes gone-by. If this keeps up she might have to go to Imani’s house and beg to be let in for the night. Which... thinking of the lack of returned phone calls, that’s not a bad idea. [[⬘ Continue|Page 3]]

The girl’s eyes skim the page. Fara being naturally nosy leans over a bit and tries to see what she’s reading. The words are too small but the full-page picture on the left is of the same<<if $stars is 'star'>> man<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>> woman<</if>> on the cover. The girl looks up and Fara quickly pretends to be trying to look over the people in front of them, which is what she should be doing anyway. <<if $stars is 'star'>>“He’s so honest and friendly here, it’s so weird that he stayed up in his apartment and like never went out or talked to people,” the girl states.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>“She’s so honest and friendly here, it’s so weird that she stayed up in her apartment and like never went out or talked to people,” the girl states.<</if>>Fara agrees even though it sounds like heaven to her. Rich without a care in the world living in an apartment building who’s rent makes Fara cry every month? <<if $stars is 'star'>>“People change, he was old. Probably was sick of the spotlight,” Fara suggests.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>“People change, she was old. Probably was sick of the spotlight,” Fara suggests.<</if>> The girl furrows her eyebrows, “yeah I guess.” She stands on the very edge of the sidewalk, balancing herself on her pink converse. Fara thinks she looks so out of place here amongst people who are remnants of a long forgotten world. <<if $stars is 'star'>>“Are you a fan of his work?” she asks.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>“Are you a fan of her work?” she asks.<</if>> The girl nods, a happy smile stretching on her lips. “I’ve watched all of...” <hr>\ [[⬨Feminine names.]] [[⬨Masculine names.]] [[⬨Pick your own.]]

<<textbox '$artistic' ''>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 4]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>“... $artistic $lastname’s movies like at least ten times. I think he’s the greatest actor in history,” the girl gushes.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>“... $artistic $lastname’s movies like at least ten times. I think she’s the greatest actor in history,” the girl gushes.<</if>> Fara finds herself sincerely smiling at the girl’s enthusiasm. By the looks of it the crowd is not dispersing anytime soon. The only forms of authority at the front of the building are the concierge Willy, and a few low-grade security guards. “What’s your favourite movie of $artistic’s?” Fara asks genuinely. The girl pinches the middle of her lip and looks down at her shoes, suddenly she responds, “I think it has to be the first one. //O, Your Heavenly Stars!//, because of all the things that happened backstage and obviously because of $artistic’s acting.” Fara knows that one. Everyone knows that one. It’s one of those movies that either people will say is the greatest film ever shot or the most overacted, melodramatic trash the studio wasted 4 million to make. She’s never seen it but it’s one of those you just know by name like //Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.// <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Didn’t he date that lady, his co-star? What was her name?” The girl shakes her head, “Magenta Wey, I don't think that was real, it was just to sell the movie.” Fara gives her a look of awe, //this girl knows her stuff.// <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Didn’t she date that man, her co-star? What was his name?” The girl shakes her head, “Greer Monroe, I don’t think that was real, it was just to sell the movie.” Fara gives her a look of awe, //this girl knows her stuff.// <</if>> Publicity or not, it must’ve worked because someone as amateurish as her knows that and that movie came out a bajillion years ago. <<if $stars is 'star'>>Of its star, she can’t say much except that because he died this morning, she can’t get into her apartment. New Yorkers aren’t neighbourly anyway and Mr. $lastname never went to the apartment meetings or really left his room.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>Of its star, she can’t say much except that because she died this morning, she can’t get into her apartment. New Yorkers aren’t neighbourly anyway and Ms. $lastname never went to the apartment meetings or really left her room.<</if>> Having a recluse ex-movie star living a few levels above you loses its charm very quickly. Fara is pushed back onto the street and glares at the heavy-set man who pushed her back. The girl is forced to come down to the pavement too. Fara looks to see even more people joining the edges of the crowd. An old couple walks up next to her and the girl and start chatting about $artistic $lastname’s best role which both think are entirely different. Fara holds out her hand to the girl, “I’m Fara Green.” The girl sticks her magazine into her armpit and shakes Fara’s hand with both of hers. Fara smiles amusedly at this quirk. “I’m Calliope,” the girl replies with a smile. [[⬘ Continue|Page 6]]

They let go and Fara asks, “why don’t we make a deal?” Calliope inquires, “what kind of deal?” “You tell me about $artistic $lastname, everything you know from like the moment they were born till the day they died today and when this crowd finally leaves I’ll take you into the building and you can at least see $artistic’s front door,” she offers. Calliope’s mouth falls open before she quickly recovers and nods her head aggressively, “oh my god oh my god yes yes yes like YES!” Fara holds up her hands and grins as she says, “ok, ok, calm down. It’s just the front door, my VIP pass can’t get me any closer.” “I don’t care!“ Calliope exclaims excitedly. “Even breathing the same air $artistic’s breathed is like the greatest thing ever to me.” Fara shakes her head goodnaturedly. She’s never understood people’s obsession with celebrities. But she has an afternoon to kill, as either the crowd finally leaves or she goes to Imani who’s not even home yet. Fara’s arm grazes the lady next to her who’s a part of the couple and the latter grimaces. Fara wants to tell her she has more right to be here than her but Calliope watches her with cheeriness and energy in her eyes that make Fara not feel that annoyed. Rubbing her hands, Fara asks, “so, where do we start?” Calliope takes her magazine from her armpit and flips to the page she was on before. Clearing her voice, she takes on a grave air as she begins her tale. “At the very beginning, when $artistic Sky $lastname was born. All the way back in 1914....” [[⬘ Continue|Page 7]]

<h1>Chapter One: Establishing Shot</h1> <h2>1914</h2> The girl grips the nurse’s hand so hard, the nurse feels her skin is breaking. The girl grits her teeth but it doesn’t quell the scream that bursts from her mouth as the short forms double her young self over in pain. The nurse has worked in this Home for two years. She has seen girls and women of all ages come and go. Once, it scandalized her how common it was to find a girl as young as twelve writhing on the birthing bed. What was happening to this generation? Where were the Christian values of old? Why is it that this city wrought this kind of degeneracy? The girl had appeared at St. Candida’s Home for Unwed Mothers three weeks before. She had worn a big red wool coat to hide her pregnancy. She had no birth certificate but she swore she was fifteen. Humbug, thought the nurse. At first glance, she did look more developed but the nurse had younger nieces, she could tell the minutiae of age. This girl was too young. Babies having babies. “Christian name and do you know when you conceived?” the girl was asked. [[⬘ Continue|Page 8]]

“Martha <<cycle '$maiden' autoselect>><<option 'Brennan'>><<option 'Fitzgerald'>><<option 'Bergman'>><<option 'Smith'>><<option 'Jones'>><</cycle>>. I think... around Christmas of last year?” she had replied in a whisper. Of course, she refused to confess the name of the father. It was typical. Usually with girls so young you didn’t have to look further than the home. Or, perhaps the Famous Players Film Company lots. The doctor pushes the door of the room open. He’s slipping on his robe as he asks the nurse, “how is the girl doing?” The girl falls limp against the bed, her head dangling to the side as another short form passes. A sheen of sweat oils her face and makes her look even younger than her faux fifteen years. “As expected. Her young body is fighting the birthing process,” the nurse replies. “Hmmm,” the doctor says. He takes an opaque brown bottle from the cart and rag. The aroma of sickly sweet fruit momentarily invades the nurse’s nose. “Is this going to be a Cesarean birth?” she asked. The doctor shakes his head. “Why mark a lovely girl with an ugly scar?” He gently moves the girl to face him, and her eyes flutter. He presses the rag to her nose. “For natural birth, I find that the young ones are more willing to push if relaxed,” he explains. “Doctor, the baby—” “Yes I know,” he interrupts. “We will handle it if it survives.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 9]]

The doctor lifts the rag off her. Her eyes open slowly, in a fettle of strong neurotics. The doctor moves a lock of hair off her drenched forehead. He leans in and says softly, “Martha, do you hear me?” She nods sluggishly. “I need you to push when I tell you to. Do you understand this?” She blinks inertly. “A huh.” He pats her hand and moves to her splayed legs, sticking his head under the sheet. The nurse lets go of the girl’s weak, sweaty hand. She moves next to the doctor as he peeks out. “Alright, Miss $maiden. Push.” It was a difficult birth. The ether had calmed her down a bit too much. But she eventually got to that sweet point between the dreamless state of anesthesia and the nightmare of what she had to do. She did not scream, she would moan on each push at most. When the baby did come out, wet and small – far too small – the doctor gave it a good wallop to hear its first cry. [[⬘ Continue|Page 10]]

The nurse washed its fragile body with a wet sponge and swaddled it in a cloth, securing it with a pin. The next few days were spent on the edge for the nurse. The girl’s body had taken a toll due to the strain of birthing and the narrowness of her lower body. The child was too early and could catch a cold as many small creatures of its size did. But it seems that whatever gusto the mother had to birth the <<if $stars is 'star'>> boy<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>girl<</if>> naturally, aided her and her offspring. “They want to live,” the nurse said to herself. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ The girl eventually gained enough strength from all the chocolate pudding she consumed in the weeks after the birth to hold him. When the nurse held the child out to her she made a face. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ The girl eventually gained enough strength from all the chocolate pudding she consumed in the weeks after the birth to hold her. When the nurse held the child out to her she made a face. <</if>>\ “Martha, it’s paramount that a child feels <<if $stars is 'star'>>his<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>her<</if>> mother’s warmth,” the nurse explains. The girl looks nervously at the tiny bundle wrapped in the baby-blue blanket. “I don’t want to,” she says in a little voice. “Why not, dear?” [[⬘ Continue|Page 11]]

The girl clamps her mouth shut and turns over, giving her back to the nurse and the child. The nurse sits on the bed and tries another tactic. “<<if $stars is 'star'>> He<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>She<</if>> looks like your verifiable twin. Same <<cycle '$haircolor' autoselect>><<option 'brown'>><<option 'blond'>><<option 'red'>><<option 'black'>><</cycle>> hair, <<cycle '$eyes' autoselect>><<option 'brown'>><<option 'blue'>><<option 'green'>>red<<option 'gray'>><</cycle>> eyes <<cycle '$skincolor' autoselect>><<option 'and porcelain skin'>><<option 'just a little more sunkissed'>><<option 'just a little more brown like a walnut'>><</cycle>>.” Eventually, they convinced her to hold her by blatantly explaining to her the nutrients held within her bosom and the potential death she risked for her baby. She almost dropped her child, and the nurse quickly shot forward and positioned the girl’s arms. “Be stiff, babies this young are as fragile as tomatoes.” “Ok,” the girl replies in an uncertain voice. [[⬘ Continue|Page 12]]

When she first fed her <<if $stars is 'star'>>son,<<elseif $stars is 'startlet'>>daughter,<</if>> she whimpered and thrust it away from her chest. “It hurts, it hurts. I don’t wanna!” The nurse got angry and forced the baby back to her mother. “It doesn’t matter what you want any more, Martha. You are a mother, you live for <<if $stars is 'star'>>him<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>her<</if>>,” she pointedly looks down at the baby with its opened mouth seeking <<if $stars is 'star'>>his<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>her<</if>> milk. [[⬘ Continue|Page 13]]

The girl had a hard expression in her reddened eyes. It made the nurse pause as Martha had been nothing but joyous since she first arrived. Too joyous, the nurse had thought given the situation the girl was in. “I don’t want it! I don’t care! My life is for me!” she declared and from then on refused to breastfeed, preferring to use her hand to crudely squeeze the milk into bottles. When she was asked what she wanted to call her baby, she flipped to a page on //Photoplay// and pointed to <<if $stars is 'star'>>one of those new actors<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>one of those new actresses<</if>>, “<<cycle '$bio' autoselect>><<option '$artistic'>><<option 'Raphael'>><<option 'Michael'>><<option 'Margaret'>><<option 'Eve'>><<option 'Theresa'>><<option 'Samuel'>><<option 'Mary'>><</cycle>>.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 14]]

<h2>1921</h2> <<audio "swing" loop play>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “$bio!” he screams. Daniel Johnson waves his hands at you as you run from the scrummage. You breathe heavily, your heart pounds in your ears and warm sweat rolls down your temples in great contrast to the chilly November air. The plastic ball chills your cold fingers. “$bio!” Daniel calls again. You look at him as he tries to keep up with you. You could throw it to him, which is expected because he’s the fly-off but... there are no rules saying you need to. You could run it yourself. You... <hr>\ [[✸ Try to make the throw|Page 15][$throw to true]] [[✩ Pass it to Daniel|Page 15][$thrownot to true]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your lungs are about to come out of your throat. “$bio!” Your friends cheer you on from the sidelines. You want to admit defeat, lay on the grass and sleep. But everyone is watching, you agreed to do this and the chilly November wind is no less comforting than the pain your lungs are going through. A flash of blonde hair appears at the corner of your eye. Vanessa’s catching up. The sneer she’ll have on her face if she wins makes you push yourself faster. The coach, Sister Edwina stands at the sidelines with the other girls, arms crossed and a serious look on her face. She doesn’t like this. Sports are for boys. Girls, especially girls who have important parents shouldn’t do ‘boy things,’ Sister Edwina has said. It would make you not have babies. Sister Edwina only allows us one hour of sport a week, on Sundays and it’s under secrecy. Only Mother Superior knows. The finish line is about 20 seconds away and Vanessa and you are toe to toe. You... <hr>\ [[✸ You trick her|Page 15][$trick to true]] [[✩ Try to make it to the finish line|Page 15][$tricknot to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $throw>>\ You ignore him as he continues screaming your name. You dodge past the fly-off of the other time and more voices are added to Daniel’s, one belonging to Coach Brother Smith. “$bio pass me the ball!” Daniel demands. You push your strong legs despite the pain in your tendons. One of the players on the other team tries to tackle you but you duck under him and throw the ball into the goalpost. “YES!” you scream in delight. You turn to look at the score and you just managed to push your team to victory. Most of your teammates run up to you. Slapping on the back and mussing your hair. “$bio that was the cat’s pyjamas!” someone says. “You’re so fast!” another voice adds. “You got to teach me,” a boy yells in your ear. “You bum!” Daniel runs toward you and shoves you back. You bump into a pair of boys behind you who push you forward to Daniel. [[⬘ Continue|Page 16]] <<elseif $thrownot>>\ You see a bigger boy running right at you. You look over at Daniel and throw it at him as hard as you can, your shoulder protests at the severity of your thrust. Daniel catches it and sprints ahead. You hold your shoulder as you run after him and the other players in case he needs assistance. You watch as he throws the ball through the goalpost. You break out into a cheer and rush to slap him on the back. Daniel looks at you and smiles in camaraderie. “Good throw,” he says. “You too,” you reply. [[⬘ Continue|Page 16]] <<elseif $trick>>\ You look her up and down. “VANESSA, SPIDER!” you warn. Vanessa’s eyes widen and she stops to frantically start dancing around, all the while screaming in fear. You grin and leisurely run to the finish line. Triumphantly you turn around and raise your arms in victory. A group of girls run over to you and hug you. “You were so fast!” a girl says. “Vanessa didn’t stand a chance!” a voice says from somewhere around you. “You’re the bee's knees!” You peek over the heads of your admirers to see Sister Edwina consoling a sniffling Vanessa. The blonde girl points at you and Sister shakes her head and starts walking towards you with Vanessa in tow. “$maiden, what’s this I hear that played a trick on miss Wolfe?” Sister Edwina says. You shrug innocently, “I thought I did.” “Liar!” Vanessa sneers. “You did it to win! Cheater!” [[⬘ Continue|Page 16]] <<elseif $tricknot>>\ It’s tempting to make this easier but you don’t want to win just because Vanessa is distracted. You can beat her fair and square. You ball your hands tighter and tense your legs as you propel your body forward. Vanessa seems to be thinking the same thing because she quickly catches up to you. You two keep exchanging glances as the finish line draws nearer. Neither of you seems to be pulling ahead nor faltering. You both pass the finish line at the same time. You instantly stop yourself and bend over, clutching your knees and panting. You look to the side and see Vanessa holding her stomach, her face blotchy. [[⬘ Continue|Page 16]] <</if>>\

<<if $throw>>\ “I won the game for us!” you exclaim with an air of incredulity at what you perceive as ungratefulness on Daniel’s part. “You were supposed to pass it to me! You just wanted to show off!” he claims and shoves you again. You grit your teeth and shove him back so hard he stumbles and falls flat on his arse. “Fight!” a kid yells and the others start joining in. Daniel glares at you and starts getting up. You prepare your stance to slug him when you hear a whistle. Coach Smith jogs over to you. He’s a burly man, you think he’s old but at your age, all adults look old to you. “What’s going on here?” he asks as he slows down. He holds out a hand to Daniel. Daniel points an accusatory finger at you. “$bio didn’t give me the ball and those are the rules Coach,” he complains. “There’s no rules buttface!” you retort. <<set $Rebellious += 1>> “$bio!” Coach chastises you. “He pushed me first!” you insist. “You pushed me harder!” Daniel retorts. Coach sighs and then claps his big hands once to get you both to shut it. “That’s enough. The game is over, I want you all to pick up any equipment and personal belongings on the field and go clean yourselves up before dinner.” You open your mouth to protest but a single look from Coach makes you press your lips shut. Daniel throws daggers at you that you return with equal force until your teammates and friends remind you that you’re a winner. You and a group of them walk back to school singing ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.’ You swell up with the attention. Sure your classmates say that you're a show-off and that you're full of yourself but you have reason to be, don't you? [[⬘ Continue|Page 17]] <<elseif $thrownot>>\ Coach Brother Smith whistles from behind you. He walks up with a grin on his lined face. One word you always use to describe him: old. Although, all adults look ancient to you. “Good job Johnson and $maiden,” he turns to you, “nice teamwork.”<<set $Obedient += 1>> You smile kindly. Coach claps once and instructs, “the game is over, I want you all to pick up any equipment and personal belongings on the field and go clean yourselves up before dinner.” You and the group of boys walk back to school singing ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ to Daniel. Even though he couldn’t have won without you, your classmates only praise him. It doesn’t bother you much. Sure the other boys say you're //too// nice and a pushover but you don’t see it that way. [[⬘ Continue|Page 17]] <<elseif $trick>>\ You glare at her. “Sore loser!” Vanessa stomps her foot and makes you walk closer to you. You start taking steps toward her too. Sister Edwina holds out an arm to hold Vanessa back and one to grip your shoulder. “There’ll be no fighting here, ladies. Now, pick up your things and head to the showers before dinner.” Sister lightly pushes back and you throw one more nasty look at Vanessa before walking back to the school with your classmates who fill you up with their praise and ‘hooray!’ <<set $Rebellious += 1>> You swell up with the attention. Sure your classmates say that you're a show-off and that you're full of yourself but you have reason to be, don't you? [[⬘ Continue|Page 17]] <<elseif $tricknot>>\ She returns your gaze and gives you a quick smile. The rest of the girls hoot and holler, crowding around you both. Sister Edwina walks towards you both with a faint smile on her face. “Very well done, girls. Now, pick up your things and head to the showers before dinner,” she orders.<<set $Obedient += 1>> You and Vanessa walk back to the school side by side, surrounded by your classmates throwing compliments your way. You don't fail to notice it's mostly to her. It doesn’t bother you much. Sure the other girls say you're //too// nice and a pushover but you don’t see it that way. [[⬘ Continue|Page 17]] <</if>>\

<<if $stars is 'star'>>\ After your shower, you go to your dorm and put on your uniform. Knickers, long shocks, white shirt, tie and sweater. You look out the old window to see the dark grey clouds. “Roger, think it’s looking to rain?” you ask your dorm mate. Roger’s on his bed, tying his shoes. He shrugs. “I’ll bring my cap,” you say and take it off the hanger. You adjust your tie in the mirror. You look like a proper gentleman. St. Andrew’s School for Boys has a strict code for clothes. Always a tie and black clothing whether that be blazers, sweaters, pants or knickers. You’ve seen plenty of boys get hit on the back of the hand because their undershirt isn’t tucked in or their tie is loose. You think about bringing your wool coat. It’s brand new and arrived just in time for the winter months. Vermont is pretty in the winter but very cold. “Let’s go $bio or they’ll give us the ruler for being late again!” Roger warns. “Coming!” you say as you smooth your sweater down. [[⬘ Continue|Page 18]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ After your shower, you go to your dorm and put on your uniform. Long skirt, long shocks, white blouse, tie and sweater. You look out the old window to see the dark grey clouds. “Olivia, think it’s looking to rain?” you ask your dorm mate. Olivia’s on her bed, combing her hair. “Looks like it.” “I’ll bring my hat,” you say and take it off the hanger. You adjust it in the mirror. You look like a proper lady. St. Agnes’ School for Girls has a strict code for clothes. Always a tie and black clothing whether that be blazers, sweaters, long skirts or dresses. You’ve seen plenty of girls get their ears twisted because their blouse isn’t tucked in or their tie is loose. You think about bringing your wool coat. It’s brand new and arrived just in time for the winter months. Vermont is pretty in the winter but very cold. “Let’s go $bio or they’ll give a spanking for being late,” Olivia warns. “Coming!” you say as you smooth your skirt down. <<if $throw>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 18]] <<elseif $thrownot>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 18*]] <<elseif $trick>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 18**]] <<elseif $tricknot>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 18***]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

You and Roger walk out shoulder to shoulder, crossing the stony walkway towards the old chapel that was renovated to be a dining hall. Your fingers trail along the old cracking walls. You know this school like the back of your hand. If you didn’t know for a fact that you have a mother you would think one of the Sisters in St. Agnes’ down the road birthed you.The school is the only home you remember. You <<cycle '$school' autoselect>><<option 'love it'>><<option 'hate it'>><<option 'hate it'>><<option 'think it is just a place'>><</cycle>>. The smell of chicken floats into your nostrils and your stomach grumbles on cue. A bunch of the boys from the Rugby game wave you over, making room for you in the middle. Daniel chews his food with a pout. Headmaster Francis clears his throat and stands up from the long table on the dais where the other priests are sitting. The students keep talking and he claps his hands loudly. “Before we say our prayer I would like to expound on the importance of being a good Catholic gentleman,” he begins. [[⬘ Continue|Page 19]]

You and Roger walk out shoulder to shoulder, crossing the stony walkway towards the old chapel that was renovated to be a dining hall. Your fingers trail along the old cracking walls. You know this school like the back of your hand. If you didn’t know for a fact that you have a mother you would think one of the Sisters in St. Agnes’ down the road birthed you.The school is the only home you remember. You <<cycle '$school' autoselect>><<option 'love it'>><<option 'hate it'>><<option 'think it is just a place'>><</cycle>>. The smell of chicken floats into your nostrils and your stomach grumbles on cue. The boys from the Rugby game animatedly talk to Daniel who sits in the middle. He nods at you when he sees you. Headmaster Francis clears his throat and stands up from the long table on the dais where the other priests are sitting. The students keep talking and he claps his hands loudly. “Before we say our prayer I would like to expound on the importance of being a good Catholic gentleman,” he begins. [[⬘ Continue|Page 19]]

You and Olivia walk out arm in arm, crossing the stony walkway towards the old chapel that was renovated to be a dining hall. Your fingers trail along the old cracking walls. You know this school like the back of your hand. If you didn’t know for a fact that you have a mother you would think one of the Sisters in St. Agnes’ birthed you. The school is the only home you remember. You <<cycle '$school' autoselect>><<option 'love it'>><<option 'hate it'>><<option 'think it is just a place'>><</cycle>>. The smell of chicken floats into your nostrils and your stomach grumbles on cue. The girls who watched you win the race call you over. You get a spot in the middle of the table, Vanessa looks down at her plate. Headmistress Mother Superior stands up from the table on the dais, where the other nuns are sitting. “Before we say our prayer I would like to expound on the importance of being a good Catholic girl,” she begins. [[⬘ Continue|Page 19]]

You and Olivia and you walk out arm in arm, crossing the stony walkway towards the old chapel that was renovated to be a dining hall. Your fingers trail along the old cracking walls. You know this school like the back of your hand. If you didn’t know for a fact that you have a mother you would think one of the Sisters in St. Agnes’ birthed you. The school is the only home you remember. You <<cycle '$school' autoselect>><<option 'love it'>><<option 'hate it'>><<option 'think it is just a place'>><</cycle>>. The smell of chicken floats into your nostrils and your stomach grumbles on cue. Vanessa waves you over to sit beside her. Headmistress Mother Superior stands up from the table on the dais, where the other nuns are sitting. “Before we say our prayer I would like to expound on the importance of being a good Catholic girl,” she begins. [[⬘ Continue|Page 19]]

<<if $throw>>\ Roger makes a funny face and you giggle. The headmaster pointedly stares in your direction. You hide your laughter behind your hand. “Success is not evil. But we must always remember to recognize that community and support led to salvation. While hubris will lead to the eternal flames of torment,” he lectures. By the way, he glances at you in the end, you feel as if you’re on the spot. He soon sits back down and you recite your daily prayer. The words come out of your mouth without much thought, such is the frequency of their usage. Ravenous from the sport of today, you dig into your food. You get a few warning looks from your teachers and you try to chew slower, laying your napkin on your lap. Once you’ve had your fill of chicken stew and chocolate pudding you wipe your fingers on your napkin and stand up with Roger to head back to the dormitories. In a semi-orderly fashion, the students leave the dining hall. Just as you pass the threshold a hand falls on your shoulder. [[⬘ Continue|Page 20]] <<elseif $thrownot>>\ Roger makes a funny face and you giggle. The headmaster pointedly stares in your direction. You hide your laughter behind your hand. “Community and support are paramount to live a good life. Those of you who practice this instead of striving for ambition are already on the road to salvation,” he lectures. Roger nudges you and you blush. He soon sits back down and you recite your daily prayer. The words come out of your mouth without much thought, such is the frequency of their usage. Ravenous from the sport of today, you dig into your food. You get a few warning looks from your teachers and you try to chew slower, laying your napkin on your lap. Once you’ve had your fill of chicken stew and chocolate pudding you wipe your fingers on your napkin and stand up with Roger to head back to the dormitories. In a semi-orderly fashion, the students leave the dining hall. Just as you pass the threshold a hand falls on your shoulder. [[⬘ Continue|Page 20]] <<elseif $trick>>\ Olivia blows a raspberry and you giggle. The headmistress pointedly looks in your direction. You bite your lip. “It is an ugly thing for a girl to be ambitious. It poisons the soul and her femininity. If she who goes down this path does not see the error of her ways, she will face her righteous punishment in this life or the next,” she prophesies. By the way, she looks at you as she finishes, and you squirm in your seat. She soon sits back down and you recite your daily prayer. The words come out of your mouth without much thought, such is the frequency of their usage. Ravenous from the sport of today, you dig into your food. You get a few warning looks from your teachers and you try to chew slower, laying your napkin on your lap. Once you’ve had your fill of chicken stew and chocolate pudding you wipe your fingers on your napkin and stand up with Olivia to head back to the dormitories. In a semi-orderly fashion, the students leave the dining hall. Just as you pass the threshold a hand falls on your shoulder. [[⬘ Continue|Page 20]] <<elseif $tricknot>>\ Olivia blows a raspberry and you giggle. The headmistress pointedly looks in your direction. You bite your lip. “A girl will one day become a woman, a wife and a mother. She must maintain temperance and low ambition. I see many girls in this room who have followed our teachings,” she claims. Olivia wiggles her eyebrows at you and you nudge her playfully. She soon sits back down and you recite your daily prayer. The words come out of your mouth without much thought, such is the frequency of their usage. Ravenous from the sport of today, you dig into your food. You get a few warning looks from your teachers and you try to chew slower, laying your napkin on your lap. Once you’ve had your fill of chicken stew and chocolate pudding you wipe your fingers on your napkin and stand up with Olivia to head back to the dormitories. In a semi-orderly fashion, the students leave the dining hall. Just as you pass the threshold a hand falls on your shoulder. [[⬘ Continue|Page 20]] <</if>>\

<<audio "swing" stop>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Brother Karl gives you a friendly smile. “$bio, Headmaster Francis would like to see you in his office.” Roger looks back at you and you wave him off. You follow the Brother down a long carpeted corridor and up a flight of stony stairs. “Am I in trouble?” you ask. Brother Karl glances down at you, “it’s a surprise.” An expression of confusion is etched on your small face. It persists as the Brother swings open the door of the Headmaster’s office. The voice in light conversation dies down. Headmaster Francis peeks to the side, the high-backed chair in front of him obligating him to take this awkward position. “$bio, my dear boy,” he says. “Come in. You have a visitor.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 21]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Sister Karla gives you a friendly smile. “$bio, Headmistress Phillipa would like to see you in her office.” Olivia looks back at you and you wave her off. You follow the Sister down a long carpeted corridor and up a flight of stony stairs. “Am I in trouble?” you ask. Sister Karla glances down at you, “it’s a surprise.” An expression of confusion is etched on your small face. It persists as the Sister swings open the door of the Heamistress' office. The voice in light conversation dies down. Headmistress Phillipa peeks to the side, the high-backed chair in front of her obligating her to take this awkward position. “$bio, my dear girl,” she says. “Come in. You have a visitor.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 21]] <</if>>\

You step into the room. The chair facing away from you scoots back, and the legs screech on the floor. You see a tuft of brilliant golden hair before you smell violets. “Muffin!” your mother exclaims. She bends down to air kiss you on each cheek. “Momma,” you say. “I know I said I was coming next month but guess what? I just got cast in Ford’s new film! We start shooting in Canada next week!” she says enthusiastically, jumping up and down with joy. “Oh,” you reply. You don’t know who this Ford is. You just know your momma won’t be here for Christmas like last year. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother must notice the look on your face because she bites her pink lips, a panicked expression in her eyes. She looks at the Headmaster for help. Headmaster Francis clasps his hands together. “$bio, Miss Skylark brought you some gifts.” He gestures to the wrapped boxes on the table in a neat row. Big colourful bows adorned them, your mother’s special touch. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother must notice the look on your face because she bites her pink lips, a panicked expression in her eyes. She looks at the Headmistress for help. Headmistress Phillipa clasps her hands together. “$bio, Miss Skylark brought you some gifts.” She gestures to the wrapped boxes on the table in a neat row. Big colourful bows adorned them, your mother’s special touch. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 22]]

Your mother pats the seat she sitting in and you climb up. You sit still as she deposits a yellow-wrapped box on your lap. You stare at it. “Well? Open it, Muffin,” your mother instructs cheerfully. You slowly start undoing the bow. Your mother taps her long nails on the top of the seat. You gently begin ripping the wrapping paper when she grows impatiently muttering, “$bio, oh really,” and she rips it to shreds for you. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ She flips the top off, letting it land on the floor. The headmaster has a slight twist to his mouth but says nothing. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ She flips the top off, letting it land on the floor. The headmistress has a slight twist to her mouth but says nothing. <</if>>\ Your momma holds up a bright red cotton sweater. “Isn’t it grand, Muffin? Perfect for winter the seller told me. I said I wanted my muffin to be toasty warm.” She holds it out to you and you take it. You rub the material. It feels soft. “Ya like it?” she asks, a hopeful smile on her face. You say, “<<cycle '$sweater' autoselect>><<option 'I love it momma'>><<option 'hate it'>><<option 'it is ok momma'>><<option 'I do not like red'>><</cycle>>.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 23]]

<<if $sweater is 'I love it momma'>>\ “I knew you would Muffin,” she replies, pleased. <<elseif $sweater is 'it is ok momma'>>\ “Ok?” she arches an eyebrow “It’s //Petit Bateau// mon cher.” <<elseif $sweater is 'I do not like red'>>\ “I’m sure you do, Muffin. I’m positively absolutely sure you do,” she insists, an embarrassed look in her eyes. <</if>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ There’s a lull in the conversation and Headmaster Francis clears his throat. “Well, I’ll just leave you to it,” he says diplomatically. Your mother tries to catch his eyes but the Headmaster hastily ducks out of the room. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ There’s a lull in the conversation and Headmistress Phillipa clears her throat. “Well, I’ll just leave you to it,” she says diplomatically. Your mother tries to catch her eyes but the Headmistress hastily ducks out of the room. <</if>>\ The shutting of the door behind you is loud. It echoes off the walls and it seems to you that it takes minutes for your mother to talk. She makes a ‘hmph’ noise and starts stacking up the boxes. <<if $skincolor is 'and porcelain skin'>>\ “That colour will compliment those rosy cheeks, real rate,” she fusses. <<set $skincolor to 'pale'>>\ <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more sunkissed'>>\ “They promised me that though you’re a bit darker the colour worked fabulously on your skin,” she claims.<<set $skincolor to 'tan'>>\ <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more brown like a walnut'>>\ “They did say that colour would make your darker skin pop. Oh, Muffin, do try to stay out of the skin,” she bemoans.<<set $skincolor to 'light brown'>>\ <</if>>\ Once she orders the gifts she comes over to you and crouches down. She eyes your face and pinches your cheek, “you’re just a doll, ain’t you?” [[⬘ Continue|Page 24]]

Your mother has a habit of saying you look like <<cycle '$parecido' autoselect>><<option 'her'>><<option 'your father'>><</cycle>>. She checks her watch. “Darn it!” she curses and stands up, tugging your hand she drags you off the chair and ushers you out of the office. “We’re gonna be late,” she complains. You're confused as to where she’s taking you when she leads you by the hand out of the school towards a waiting car. The temperature has gotten lower, you shiver. Your mother doesn’t seem to notice. Her coat looks warm. She doesn’t need to say anything to the driver. He just goes off the moment the door closes. You sit near the window and your mother sits near the other. Two people could fit in between you two. But as your mother is wont to say ‘c’est la vie.’ You don’t understand what that means, your French is basic but you know she says that when something happens that dampens her naturally friendly mood. [[⬘ Continue|Page 25]]

You see the sign up ahead. You’re headed to town. The school doesn’t allow the students to mingle with the residents of Stowe. You’re only ever taken to town for class trips when there are festivals or to see a picture. “What does that sign say Franky baby?” your mother asks the driver. He responds, “they’re having a winter festival Misses. Looks like it’s going to be swell.” “Thought’s so. Oh, horse-feathers,” she says, “my gams could handle a good skiing.” She pouts at you. “Isn't it horrid, Muffin?“ If you had an answer you don't get to say it because she looks away from you as soon as she finishes talking. When you arrive at the town proper, there’s no one around. Most of the shops are closed but the streets feel inviting with their streetlights adorned with Christmas wreaths. Franky drives along the curb and slowly stops. He gets out to open your door while your mother impatiently gets out herself. You wrap your arms around yourself and Franky follows you with his eyes as you go to stand with your mother on the sidewalk. You look up to see the bright white light of the cinema. [[⬘ Continue|Page 26]]

“Misses Skylark?” Franky says. Your mother stares up giddily at the marquee. “Yep?” “The little one’s shivering,” he notes. Your mother looks away from the names all high up in bright lights. Her jovial smile dissipates and is replaced by confusion. “Oh pooh! Why didn’t ya tell me? I ain’t a mind reader Muffin!” <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Franky Dottie, give him your coat,” she orders. Franky shrugs the black coat he has on and throws it over your shoulders. It’s several sizes too big, it drags on the snowy ground like a gown. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Franky Dottie, give her your coat,” she orders. Franky shrugs the black coat he has on and throws it over your shoulders. It’s several sizes too big, it drags on the snowy ground like a gown. <</if>>\ “Now, don’t look so put out Muffin. You coulda told me instead of being a wet blanket,” your mother states and takes your hand. The warmth of the cinema is a welcome comfort. The smell of popcorn fills the air and makes your mouth water. Luckily there isn’t anyone there except you and your mother. She excitedly leads you to the main counter. The boy tending to it looks as old as your mother. When he sees her his eyes widen. “M-Mallory Skylark?” he asks. She smiles widely, “pleasure to meet ya dear. Weren’t ya told I was comin'?’ I did tell the Big Cheese that I wanted the cinema closed but for us,” she lifts your arm. He blinks several times. “Y-yes but I didn’t think it would actually be you! Can I have your signature ma’am?” [[⬘ Continue|Page 27]]

She laughs. “Oh, don’t call me ma’am just yet, I just turned 19 not too long ago!” He hands her a napkin and she takes out her special pen from her coat, the one she uses to sign napkins, pictures, and film stills. The boy chatters on with your mother as he makes the popcorn. He goes on about a film she did last year that according to your mother was a hit. She giggles as she tells him the stories she’s told you. You <<cycle '$mommaauto' autoselect>><<option 'hated having to share her attention'>><<option 'thought it was kind of her to always make time for her fans'>><<option 'wonder what it would feel like to sign your signature'>><</cycle>>. Eventually, she does manage to break away from her talk and take you by the hand inside the theatre. It’s small and by your mother’s face, you can see she doesn’t like that. “This is why towns ain’t no good, Muffin,” she claims. You sit down in the front row. You have to crane your neck back to see the screen. When the credits with their music started rolling your mother clapped eagerly, jumping in her seat. She dropped most of her popcorn and some of yours too. She didn’t notice, her wide happy eyes were glued to herself 50 feet high. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother is a very energetic person. She reminds you of Roger with how he gets when something pleases him. Other kids’ parents aren’t like this. They act all stuffy and old. You asked Roger why and he said that, “your momma ain’t older than my older sister.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother is a very energetic person. She reminds you of Olivia with how she gets when something pleases her. Other kids’ parents aren’t like this. They act all stuffy and old. You asked Olivia why and she said that, “your momma ain’t even lived twenty years.” <</if>>\ That’s when you started to notice the difference in age between your mother and other mothers. You wondered why all the other mothers waited until they were old and wrinkly to have babies. [[⬘ Continue|Page 28]]

You asked your momma why she called the stork so early and she laughed. // “Stork? What baloney they teachin’ you at that school? Goddamn Catholics. A woman has a baby when she lays with a man, Muffin.”// <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ From then on you promised you would never sleep in the same bed as a girl. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ From then on you promised you would never sleep in the same bed as a boy. <</if>>\ Your mother lights one of her smoking sticks and leans back. Her eyes glitter as she looks at herself act. You look up at her on that screen. Her hair was longer then and she’s kneeling, praying to a cross. Her face looks sad. You’ve watched all your mother’s movies and you think <<cycle '$mommaacting' autoselect>><<option 'she looks beautiful in pictures and she’s the best actress in the world'>><<option 'you don’t understand why she’s so famous and you secretly have other actresses who you like more'>><<option 'that she leaves you most of the year to do this. It makes you hurt'>><</cycle>>. Even though she dropped most of the popcorn at least she got you your favourite snack. <<cycle '$snack' autoselect>><<option ' Old Fashioned Taffy'>><<option 'Candy corn'>><<option 'Milk chocolate bar'>><<option 'Cherry mash'>><</cycle>>. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 29]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 29*]] <</if>>

Pick a last name, this differs from your maiden name. [[...Astor.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Astor']] [[...Bardot.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Bardot']] [[...Cooper.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Cooper']] [[...Douglas.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Douglas']] [[...Davis.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Davis']] [[...Fairbanks.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Fairbanks']] [[...Grant.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Grant']] [[...Hudson.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Hudson']] [[...Hepburn.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Hepburn']] [[...Montgomery.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Montgomery']] [[...Spencer.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Spencer']] [[...Wayne.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Wayne']] [[...Ziegfeld.|Page 5][$lastname to 'Ziegfeld']] <<textbox '$lastname' ''>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 5]]

<h2>1926</h2> “You are representatives of the school, and furthermore, the Lord sees all. Comport yourselves as the utmost respectable gentlemen,” Brother Oscar says. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ You roll your eyes. You’ve heard this speech to exhaustion. You could likely recite it in your sleep. “Remember the tenets of etiquette,” you echo in a stuffy voice under your breath for your friends to hear. They start laughing, adding their own imitations of the Brother. “Make room for the Lord,” Roger ridicules. “Your lips should only be used to kiss the cross,” Phillip says. “Kiss my ass,” you mumble, and your friends can’t contain their laughter. They start howling, and the Brother sharply turns to your little group at the back of the classroom. “Anything you’d like to add $maiden, Richmond, Miller?” Brother asks. “Just praying for the Lord to give us strength,” you drawl. Roger snorts and covers it up with a cough. The Brother narrows his eyes at you but continues, “very well.” <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ You lean back and pay attention. Yes, you’ve heard this monologue multiple times in the past month, but it doesn’t hurt to listen. Roger keeps passing notes to you that you discreetly tried to read but now ignore them to avoid getting scolded. He is usually the reason you get in trouble, and you don’t fancy getting detention tonight of all nights. “Pssstt $bio,” Roger whispers. You wave him off. “Come onnnnn. Read it,” he pressures. “Shut up, Roger. I don’t wanna have to get a ruler to the behind again,” you explain without looking away from the Brother. “Don’t be a wet blanket $bio,” Philip says. “Anything you’d like to add $maiden, Richmond, Miller?” Brother asks. “We’re just repeating what you say to not forget Brother,” you reply earnestly. Brother narrows his eyes at Roger and your other friends, but he nods at you. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 30]]

<h2>1926</h2> “A disobedient young lady will forever be marked by sin. Remember this tonight. You might fool us, but the Lord sees all. Be the young, respectable ladies we have primed you to be,” Sister Cora says. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ You roll your eyes. You’ve heard this speech to exhaustion. You could likely recite it in your sleep. “Remember the tenets of etiquette,” you echo in a stuffy voice under your breath for your friends to hear. They start giggling, adding their own imitations of the Brother. “Make room for the Lord,” Olivia jokes. “Your lips should only be used to kiss the cross,” Tammy says. “Kiss my ass,” you mumble, and your friends can’t contain their laughter. They start howling, and the Brother sharply turns to your little group at the back of the classroom. “Anything you’d like to add $maiden, Richmond, Miller?” Sister asks. “Just praying for the Lord to give us strength,” you drawl. Olivia squeals and covers it up with a cough. The Sister narrows her eyes at you but continues, “very well.” <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ You lean back and pay attention. Yes, you’ve heard this monologue multiple times in the past month, but it doesn’t hurt to listen. Olive keeps passing notes to you that you discreetly tried to read but now ignore them to avoid getting scolded. She is usually the reason you get in trouble, and you don’t fancy getting detention tonight of all nights. Although she doesn’t purposefully try to get you in hot water, that’s an accident most times. “Pssstt $bio,” Olivia whispers. You wave her off. “Come onnnnn. Read it,” she pressures. “Hush, Olive. I don’t wanna have to get a ruler to the behind again,” you explain without looking away from the Sister. “Don’t be a wet blanket $bio,” Tammy says. “Anything you’d like to add $maiden, Richmond, Miller?” Sister asks. “We’re just repeating what you say to not forget Sister,” you reply earnestly. Sister narrows her eyes at Olivia and your other friends, but she nods at you. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 30*]]

<<set $Rebellious to 0>> <<set $Obedient to 0>> <<set $Ego to 0>> <<set $Mallory to 0>> <<cacheaudio "city" "https://ragingviolets.github.io/twine-audio/city.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "swing" "https://ragingviolets.github.io/twine-audio/swing.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "momparty" "https://ragingviolets.github.io/twine-audio/dancing-rhythms-driving-electro-swing-composition-149594.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "fame" "https://ragingviolets.github.io/twine-audio/fame.mp3">>

You lay out the fabric of the clothes your mother sent you on the bed. You look at the note, written in elegant script and smelling subtly of lilacs. //I saw this dashing suit in Saks Fifth Avenue and thought it would look handsome on you. I didn’t know you were going to your first dance! Isn’t that just lucky?// //Kisses, momma//. A small heart was drawn next to the Y. The suit is black, with a white silk shirt and tie. You feel the jacket’s material; you don’t know what it’s made from, but it feels costly. For a while, you’ve realized how distant your mother always is from you. In a way, it took you so long to notice because it’s all you’ve ever known. Seeing your friends’ parents visit them multiple times a week, taking them off with them at Christmas and for their birthdays. If they couldn’t see them, they would send letters. Your mother would forget for months at a time. She would apologize in her flighty, flagrant way. You were growing <<cycle '$mommafeelings' autoselect>><<option 'resentful of her'>><<option 'sad because of her'>><<option 'to understand the demands of her job and her youth'>><</cycle>>. [[⬘ Continue|Page 31]]

You lay out the fabric of the clothes your mother sent you on the bed. You look at the note, written in elegant script and smelling subtly of lilacs. //I saw this gorgeous dress on Saks Fifth Avenue and thought it would look fabulous on you. I didn’t know you were going to your first dance! Isn’t that just lucky? Don’t do anything imprudent, Muffin.// //Kisses, momma//. A small heart was drawn next to the Y. The dress was pastel pink and made from what felt like silk. From magazines, you knew it was called a crepe-de-chine dress. It was costly and modern. For a while, you’ve realized how distant your mother always is from you. In a way, it took you so long to notice because it’s all you’ve ever known. Seeing your friends’ parents visit them multiple times a week, taking them off with them at Christmas and for their birthdays. If they couldn’t see them, they would send letters. Your mother would forget for months at a time. She would apologize in her flighty, flagrant way. You were growing <<cycle '$mommafeelings' autoselect>><<option 'resentful of her'>><<option 'sad because of her'>><<option 'to understand the demands of her job and her youth'>><</cycle>>. [[⬘ Continue|Page 31*]]

“$bio, let’s go the cars are downstairs!” Roger opens your dorm room. He’s wearing a suit that looks like yours except last year’s model. “Calm your horses,” you complain as you try and fail to tie your tie. Roger rolls his eyes and grabs your shoulders, forcing you to face him. He bites his tongue as he expertly does what you couldn’t. You look at him closely. His hair is gelled back, and you touch it. It sticks to your hand. Roger hits you, and you laugh. “Shut up, $bio.” “Your hair looks like an oil factory,” you joke. Roger cracks a smile. You think... <hr>\ [[⬨ He has a nice smile.|Page 32][$liker to true]] [[❃ He’s a good friend.|Page 32]]

“$bio, everyone’s in the dancing hall already!” Olivia walks into the dorm. She’s wearing a red chiffon dress. As in fashion as you are. “Mother always says it’s best to make them wait,” you reply as you try and fail to clasp a gold bracelet. Olivia makes a face and grabs your arm. She furrows her blonde eyebrows and tries to open the clasp with her short nails. You look at her. Her cheeks are very rosy. You gingerly poke one, and she tries to bite your finger. You giggle, and she shakes her head in mock anger, “I look like a ghost without it $bio.” “Oh, so now you look like a ghost with frostbite,” you joke. Olivia snorts. You think... <hr>\ [[⬨ Her eyes are lovely.|Page 32*][$liker to true]] [[❃ She’s the best girl-friend you could ask for.|Page 32*]]

<<if $liker>>\ Your eyes widen at that thought, and before you can think more of it, Roger finishes. <<else>>\ Roger finishes. <</if>>\ You wipe your hands on your pants. You’ve hardly ever talked to girls. The schools mingle a few times a year, but the priests and the nuns are always there to force the girls of St. Agnes to talk to the boys of St. Andrews. But this is a dance... you’ll be allowed to talk to girls and touch them. Brother Mark spent weeks teaching you boys how to sway and do a simple two-step. You pull on your collar as you follow Roger along the corridors. Thinking of girls made you nervous. They were weird creatures. All soft and mysterious. They whisper amongst each other about things you don’t understand. You had asked... <hr>\ [[⬨A girl named Olivia|Page 33][$oliviad to true]] [[⬨No one|Page 33]]

<<if $liker>>\ You push that odd thought from your head. Olivia finally gets it. <<else>>\ Olivia finally gets it. <</if>>\ You curl a strand of hair around your finger. Thinking of boys makes your stomach lurch. The schools mingle a few times a year, but the priests and the nuns are always there to force the boys of St. Andrews to talk to the girls of St. Agnes. But this is a dance... you’ll be allowed to talk to boys and have them touch you. Sister Ann spent weeks teaching you girls how to sway and do a simple two-step. You fuss with stray strands of fabric on your coat hem as you follow Olivia along the corridors. Boys were a topic you couldn’t understand. Your mother would talk about her boyfriends, and you didn’t see why men and women coupled. Boys smelled and were mean to the girls. But you still had to go. You had asked... <hr>\ [[⬨A boy named Roger|Page 33*][$rogerd to true]] [[⬨Olivia, as friends.|Page 33*]]

The dance hall was crammed with students. Priests and nuns stood by the walls and doors, tensely watching the few couples swaying on the dance floor. Some balloons were taped to the walls, and at the other end, a band slowly played a tune you recognized from a picture. Most of your classmates were talking amongst themselves by the walls, looking periodically at the opposite sex on the other side of the room who were doing the same thing. <<if $oliviad>>\ You see Olivia sitting on a bench, chatting with a friend. You exchange glances with Roger, who pushes you forward. “Go! Or someone else will take her.” “I asked her, why would someone else take her?” you ask. Roger looks at you like you’re a dummy. “Because pretty girls like that only care about one thing. A man! You gotta be a man.” You look at him doubtfully. Roger had never had a girl-friend, and he didn’t get a date for the dance, but he always acted like he knew what he was talking about. Maybe he did, but you didn’t know, so you decide to follow his advice. Pulling on your tie, you nervously walk up to the girls. They immediately stop talking when you stop in front of them. They stare at you like a snake, seeing a mouse. <<else>>\ You and Roger exchange glances and go sit with the group of boys by the wall. You slide down and cross your legs. “Carter got a date?” Roger asks incredulously. You squint, “where?” Roger points to the middle of the dance floor, and you see the mop of hair belonging to none other than the school mascot. He awkwardly moves his date around as if she were a mannequin. But the girl is nice-looking. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 34]]

The dance hall was crammed with students. Priests and nuns stood by the walls and doors, tensely watching the few couples swaying on the dance floor. Some balloons were taped to the walls, and at the other end, a band slowly played a tune you recognized from a picture. Most of your classmates were talking amongst themselves by the walls, looking periodically at the opposite sex on the other side of the room who were doing the same thing. <<if $rogerd>>\ You see Roger sitting by the benches with all his friends. You tug on Olivia’s arm. “Yes?” she says. You jerk your head to where Roger is sitting. Olivia smiles, “what are you waiting for? Go up to him.” You feel your stomach churn with nerves. “He’s with all those boys. Isn’t it too forward to go to him? Shouldn’t I wait for him to come to me?” Olivia shakes her head and smooths your hair back. “You’re not doing anything untoward. Boys at dances are less mean than when you see them outside of school.” <<else>>\ Olivia follows you to where all the girls are in their frilly outfits. They make room for you on the bench. The boys on the other side of the floor occasionally steal glances at your side. “I think they’re talking about us,” you state. Olivia gives you a doubtful look. “Maybe you just think they are.” “Any time we’ve seen boys, they’re always mean to us, Olive. That’s why most of them don’t have dates,” you claim. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 34*]]

<<if $oliviad>>\ You swallow thickly and say almost in a whisper, “hey, Olivia.” Olivia looks at you briefly as if she doesn’t remember you. Then, recognition comes into her eyes. “Oh, hi! I didn’t think you would come.” You pull on your tie, “I’m sorry I’m late, I had tie troubles.” She blinks at you. “Tie troubles?” You nod and lift your tie awkwardly. The girls around her start giggling, and you feel your cheeks burn. Olivia smiles at you and stands up. “Do we go?” she asks, motioning to the dance floor. <hr>\ [[⬨“Yes.”|Page 35][$oliviadd to true]] [[⬨“Can we sit and talk?”|Page 35][$oliviast to true]] <<else>>\ Roger crosses his arms over his chest and glares, “how does a loser like that get a date, but we can’t?” You make a face. “I could’ve gotten a date; I didn’t ask anyone.” Roger ignores you. “They want guys who are smart like Carter or look like Valentino.” You adjust your tie. You never spend time looking in the mirror, but you think you have a nice face. Your mother says you do; she would know because she spends all her time with famous, pretty actors. “So what are we going to do?” you ask. Roger shrugs. “I think we’re stuck sitting here, ducks, for the whole night.” You survey your options. <hr>\ [[⬨“Do you want to dance?”|Page 35][$rogerdd to true]] [[⬨Sit down|Page 35][$rogert to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $oliviadd>>\ You hold out your hand to her. She takes it, and you lead her to the dance floor. Most couples gravitate towards the center so they are not close to the jeering of either side of the kids against the walls. You awkwardly lift your hand and pause it before her waist. Olivia gives you a friendly smile and places your hand on her waist. Your hand is stiff against the fabric of her dress, and you try not to think of how her bones feel beneath it. You look down at your feet, trying to shuffle them in the way you’ve been practicing. You accidentally step on Olivia, and she grunts. Your eyes shoot up, and you say alarmingly, “I’m so sorry!” Olivia rolls her mouth, a pained look in her eyes. “It’s ok,” she says in a weak voice. Shucks. “I’m really, really sorry,” you continue. Olivia shakes her head. “It was a mistake, I’m fine, look.” She moves her foot around and smiles at you. [[⬘ Continue|Page 36]] <<elseif $oliviast>>\ “Can we just talk for a bit?” you ask. Olivia nods and pats the spot next to her. Relieved, you sit apart from her, making sure not to accidentally touch her leg with yours. You don’t think you could survive that. The girls sitting next to you on the bench move to the other side of Olivia and clearly are talking about you. Olivia notices where your gaze is and says, “nevermind them.” You clear your throat and ask, “is this your first dance?” She nods, “I’ve been at St. Agnes’ my whole life, and we’re not allowed to mingle with boys until this year.” “I’ve been at St. Andrew’s all my life too. Some of the boys sneak out to the dances in town,” you reply. “But not you?” she asks. You shake your head. “I don’t know how my mother would react, and she’s really busy. She doesn’t like coming here because I broke the rules.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 36]] <<elseif $rogerdd>>\ Roger looks at you like you’ve just suggested slugging one of the priests. “Why do you wanna do that?” he asks. You shrug. “It’s more fun than just sitting here all night.” Roger still looks unconvinced, so you get up and walk to the dance floor, hands in your pockets and under the eyes of the confused couples who decided to dance. The girls on the sidelines to your left look at you confused, while the boys to your right seem to be between bafflement and amusement. You suddenly feel very dumb. But you’re here, aren’t you? It would be dumber to go back with your tail between your legs. You start shuffling your feet from this way to that. A simple two-step that you were taught by your teachers. You give some pep to your shoulders. You can feel all their eyes on you, but you try not to care. This is not a simple task given how aware you’ve become of perception, of yourself from yourself or others. You count down the seconds until the song ends, and when it does, you make to walk back to the boys, but a girl you spotted a few times comes up to you. [[⬘ Continue|Page 36]] <<elseif $rogert>>\ “We could talk then,” you suggest. Roger side-eyes you. “We talk all the time.” “Yeah, but the other choice is to go dance, and I don’t think we wanna do that,” you say. Roger makes a face, but he does lean to speak in your ear. “How’s your momma?” he inquires. Your eye twitches. The only person you talk to your momma about is Roger, and even then, it’s like pulling your hair out. He doesn’t really understand what it’s like, and you think he might have a crush on her, which is horrible. “She sent me this suit,” you reply, extending your arms to show off the fabric of the blazer. Roger feels it and looks on appreciatively. “My momma just gave me my cousin’s old suit because she says I ruin all the nice clothes she sends me,” Roger says with an eye roll. [[⬘ Continue|Page 36]] <</if>>

<<if $rogerd>>\ “Why?” “Because they’re just as nervous or even more than we are,” she explains. You look at her with uncertainty. You don’t want to get reprimanded by the nuns for being too inappropriate. You also don’t believe her. Boys don’t seem to be scared of anything. Olivia gently pushes you forward. You slowly start walking over, gripping the fabric of your dress tightly. You constantly stop and look back at Olivia, who waves for you to keep going. When you do get to Roger, he and his friends stop laughing about something and go oddly quiet. Roger looks up at you and gets up. “Hello,” you squeak. “Hello,” he replies. You two stand in silence for a long moment. Roger’s cheeks are red, probably from the cold. He awkwardly gestures to the dance floor. “Um, do you want to dance?” <hr>\ [[⬨“Yes.”|Page 35*][$rogerdd to true]] [[⬨“Can we talk instead?”|Page 35*][$rogert to true]] <<else>>\ Olivia bumps your shoulder with hers. “Why are you talking like this? Is it really the boys or something else?” Olivia knows you so well; it’s scary how she can see emotions play out on your face so clearly. You don’t have your momma’s acting chops. You move your head a bit. “It’s mostly the boys right now. But maybe it’s also something else.” “We could go outside if you want? This place looks deader than Valentino,” she says with a small smile. “Come to think of it I don't think they’ll let us leave.” The adults stand by the door in militant fashion. <hr>\ [[⬨“Why don’t we dance?”|Page 35*][$oliviadd to true]] [[⬨Talk|Page 35*][$oliviat to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $rogerdd>>\ Roger takes your hand without much preamble and practically drags you to the dance floor. When he turns around to face you, he suddenly seems unsure what to do next. He looks over your head to somewhere behind you. “What do I do now?” he whispers. “What?” you ask. Roger whispers a bit louder, “I forgot.” You reach —or rather jerk— your hand towards his and ungraciously place it on your hip. It trembles there, and you try to prevent yourself from vomiting, although you might have a heart attack before you retch out your dinner. You have to force your arms around his neck, and when you feel his chest slightly touch yours, you have to stop yourself from running away. You’ve watched your mother be this close with men in the pictures. How does she do it? [[⬘ Continue|Page 36*]] <<elseif $rogert>>\ “Uh, sure,” he replies, pushing a friend aside to make room for you. You sit down and smooth the fabric of your dress. You pay particular attention to any stray hairs, dust mites or what-have-yous on your clothes. You run your fingers through your hair and tug on your necklace. “You look nice,” he says. “Oh, thanks,” you say, your cheeks colouring. You don’t take compliments like your mother does. He moves his mouth, picks at his nails and stares straight ahead. The other boys on the bench have quieted down since you’ve come. They occasionally whisper to each other, but the overall atmosphere is tense with you there. You catch Olivia’s eyes, and she gives you a thumbs up. You try to plead with her with your eyes to save you, but she goes back to chatting with her date. [[⬘ Continue|Page 36*]] <<elseif $oliviadd>>\ “We could... dance?” you suggest. Olivia looks at you in shock. “You’ve been an anxious mess since this morning and want to dance?” You roll your eyes but smile immediately after. “Yeah, because boys are mean! But girls are nice, and I want to dance with my best friend.” Olivia grins and locks arms with you. You scoot past the boy-girl couples on the dance floor and copy what they’re doing. She hugs your neck, and you place a hand on her hip. You start swaying and smiling at each other. It feels much better to do it with her than one of the boys. You step on each other’s feet and you laugh. You make faces and gossip about the others couples. It’s easy to forget where you are. You see Sister Agatha look at you strangely, and she whispers something to Sister Margaret, which in turn makes her start staring at you. Your eyebrows bunch together. What’s wrong? [[⬘ Continue|Page 36*]] <<elseif $oliviat>>\ You wipe your hands on your dress and ask, “Olive, can we sit and talk? I really don’t want to dance.” Olivia grabs your hands, “sure.” She leads you to the bench where all the girls are, and you sit down and press together. She holds onto your hand for a while as it shakes nervously. She finally lets go when you’ve calmed down. “Are you ok now?” she asks gently. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just a dance, and I didn’t even ask any boys about it. My momma wouldn’t be so nervous,” you state with a low voice. Olivia sighs, and you look away from her pitying eyes. She doesn’t like it when you compare yourself to your momma, but how can you not? She’s not afraid of boys. She kisses them just fine. You saw in a magazine that she’s the most ‘desirable’ woman in America right now. [[⬘ Continue|Page 36*]] <</if>>

<<if $oliviadd>>\ You feel like you made a fool of yourself. “I should’ve practiced more,” you admit. “You’re doing good compared to the other guys,” she says kindly, looking at the couple beside you. He walks, jerking his date around as if she were a rag doll. She silently pleads with you two to save her. You and Olivia exchange glances and laugh. You don’t know when it’s appropriate to stop, and you’re too unsure to ask Olivia, so you two continue swaying along for countless dances. You talk a bit about things that you’ll likely not remember tomorrow. It feels light. You soon start letting loose. “I hope I haven’t been a lousy date,” you say sheepishly. Olivia shakes her head, her smile wide and genuine. “I heard some horror stories about girls who go to dances. Boys can suck. But you are not. Thanks for being nice,” she says sincerely. You blush, not knowing how to respond to that. [[⬘ Continue|Page 37]] <<elseif $oliviast>>\ Olivia quirks an eyebrow, “who’s your momma?” You sigh. Oh, boy. “Do you know who Mallory Skylark is?” Olivia’s eyes widen, “she’s your momma?” “Uh huh,” you reply, less than enthusiastic. Olivia scoots closer, “why don’t you have her last name? Or do you have your dad’s last name?” You're not sure you want to answer that. Olivia doesn’t even let you, adding, “but I thought she didn’t have a son.” You give her an odd look. “Why?” you question. Olivia sees something in your face, and she looks away. Her hands bunch up the fabric of her dress. “I think maybe I heard it once? I could be wrong.” You move closer, not caring that your leg bumps with hers. “Where did you see that? Did she say that?” Olivia’s eyes search around frantically. “Um, I don’t remember.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 37]] <<elseif $rogerdd>>\ “Hello,” she says. “Hello,” you reply apprehensively. “Can I dance with you?” she asks. You raise an eyebrow. This is not what you expected. You didn’t even ask a girl to the dance. “Um, sure,” you say to not be rude. She smiles and stands before you, starting to follow your movements. It’s almost as if you’re a couple. When you look over at Roger, he’s wiggling his eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes and focus on not accidentally stepping on this girl. “My name’s Olivia,” she says. You smile quickly and are about to reply with your name when you see a couple of the games slowly walk to the dance floor. They stick to you, and a couple of girls decide to come up and dance near Olivia. [[⬘ Continue|Page 37]] <<elseif $rogert>>\ You pull on the already frayed hem of one of the long sleeves, and Roger swats your hand away. “But is she coming for your birthday? We could get here to talk us to the festival.” You sigh, “I don’t know Roger. She promised she would come, but if she gets a role, she’ll do that instead of being here.” The slight tenseness of your jaw makes your words sound more annoyed than you intended. Roger gives you a questioning look but doesn’t press on the issue. [[⬘ Continue|Page 37]] <</if>>

<<if $oliviadd>>\ A nun you don’t know the name of claps her hands. “Everyone! Thank you for conducting yourselves to the standards of your schools. It is late, and we will escort the girls back to their dormitories. Say your goodbyes, please.” You and Olivia look at each other. Her eyes flutter, and she seems bashful. Is she expecting something? “$bio!” You turn around to see Roger making a kissy face at you. You raise an eyebrow, and he rolls his eyes. When you look at Olivia again, her nose bumps into yours. “Ouch,” you say. Olivia looks red in the face. “I’m s—” “Did I h—” Both of you clam up and stare at each other. Did she try to kiss you? Your eyes widen, and you feel like you can’t breathe. You had no idea about this. “Mr. $maiden!” Brother Oscar calls you from the door. A stream of students passes him in disorderly groups. Your eyes shoot back to Olivia. She wrangles her hands and refuses to look at you. <hr>\ [[✸ Kiss her|Page 38][$kisso to true]] [[✩ Say goodbye|Page 38][$byeo to true]] <<elseif $oliviast>>\ You grab one of her hands, “Olivia, did my momma say she doesn’t have a son?” “$maiden, no untoward touching!” Brother Oscar yells from the perimeter of the dance floor. You momentarily let go. “I’m not being inapp—” Olivia takes that chance to get up. “I’m getting really tired. I think I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight!” she says quickly with a wavering smile. You stand up to follow her, but she falls in with a group of girls who all look incredibly similar. “Olivia!” You don’t see her again. [[⬘ Continue|Page 39]] <<elseif $rogerdd>>\ “Haha, you’re the bee’s knees. I actually wanted to dance with you because you look like someone I’ve seen,” she admits. You raise an eyebrow and give her a sly smile. “Is it Mallory Skylark?” She nods, “how did you know? You look so much like her! You could be her son! You don’t have her last name though, and she says she’s too young to have kids yet.” That comment makes you momentarily freeze, but quickly get back in the rhythm of your dance. “Alright,” you respond simply. The conversation stalls from then on, and Olivia must sense how your mood has changed because she keeps stealing glances at you. [[⬘ Continue|Page 39]] <<elseif $rogert>>\ You end up talking the rest of the dance about rugby and whether you find any of the girls cute. Roger, unsurprisingly, finds all of them attractive. A nun you don’t know the name of claps her hands. “Everyone! Thank you for conducting yourselves to the standards of your schools. It is late, and we will escort the girls back to their dormitories. Say your goodbyes, please.” “Thank God it’s over,” Roger says. [[⬘ Continue|Page 39]] <</if>>

<<if $kisso>>\ You don’t know where you get the courage from, but you press your mouth to hers. The only thing that registers is that her lips taste like something sweet. Candy, maybe? You don’t have enough time to figure it out because you’re interrupted. “$maiden! What do you think you’re doing?” Brother Oscar’s voice booms. You and Olivia break apart just in time for Brother Oscar to grab you by the shoulder and haul you away. “Bye!” Olivia yells and waves. You wave, and Brother Oscar forces your head to look forward.<<set $Rebellious += 1>> “Completely inexcusable! Do you think that’s the attitude of a gentleman?” Brother Oscar chastises. But you hardly care; your mind keeps replaying the kiss. <<elseif $byeo>>\ You look at her strangely and lightly touch her shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you later,” you say. Olivia looks up at you, her mouth slightly ajar. She blinks several times before nodding, “It was nice to dance with you $bio.” You extend your hand out for a handshake, and she looks at you for a moment before giving you a weak shake. You shoot her a weak smile and nearly speed walk away from her. You catch up with Roger, who claps you on the back. “So how did you do Valentino? Did you kiss her?” “Did I have to?” you ask.<<set $Obedient += 1>> Roger slaps his forehead. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 39]]

That night, you lay in bed; your bed is by the window. The window is open, letting in the cool summer breeze. The curtains blow into the room and let the moonlight shine on your face. You hold your stuffed <<cycle '$toy' autoselect>><<option ' Teddy'>><<option 'Bunny'>><<option 'Tiger'>><<option 'Horse'>><</cycle>> to your chest. Roger snores loudly in the bed next to you. He’s lying on top of his covers, his suit still on. <<if $kisso>>\ You roll your lips again. You’ve been doing this for hours. That’s why you can’t sleep. You keep thinking of that kiss. Would it happen again? Did you do it good? //Was that a sin?// Your momma would say there’s no such thing. For someone who has you in a Catholic school, she really likes complaining about it. You shut your eyes and try to dream of that kiss, hoping to repeat it in your mind. <<elseif $byeo>>\ You feel your lips with your finger. You could’ve been kissed. But people were looking, and you would get in trouble, and you didn’t really fancy kissing your date. Your mother would say that you should’ve done it, but she is what you’ve heard your teachers call a ‘heathen.’ You don’t know exactly what that means, but you do know it’s not God’s way. You close your eyes and try to forget the blunder you might’ve done. <<elseif $rogerdd>>\ You feel a horrible feeling in the middle of your chest. You think about Olivia’s words. //But she says she’s too young to have kids yet.// You had never thought of what your momma’s life was like in Hollywood. What she said about you when you weren’t there had never occurred to you to think about. But your momma was the most honest person you know. Sometimes, she can be mean because she says what she thinks. Why would she lie about you? You feel your eyes prickly and stubbornly try to wipe them before you stain your pillow. You roll over and try to sleep but wake up most of the night. <<elseif $rogert>>\ You find you can’t sleep. You wish you could have hoped that your momma would surprise you and be here for your birthday, but you know she won’t. You’re lucky if you manage to see her twice this year. You sometimes wish she had a normal job. You feel your eyes prickly and stubbornly try to wipe them before you stain your pillow. Or you had a dad who could work so she didn’t have to and would come see you. You roll over and try to sleep but spend the rest of the night restless. <<elseif $oliviast>>\ You feel a horrible feeling in the middle of your chest. You think about Olivia’s words. //But I thought she didn’t have a son.// You had never thought of what your momma’s life was like in Hollywood. What she said about you when you weren’t there had never occurred to you to think about. But your momma was the most honest person you know. Sometimes, she can be mean because she says what she thinks. Why would she lie about you? You roll over and try to sleep but wake up most of the night. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 40]]

<<if $rogerdd>>\ “Now what?” he asks. “I think we just—” you start swaying from left to right. Roger looks down at his shoes and tries to follow your lead. Isn’t he supposed to be leading? He spends so much time trying not to step on you that your anxiety goes down because at least you’re free to look around. The other couples are dancing exactly as you are. “I really look stupid, don’t I?” Roger asks, his eyes still angled downward. “Not more than anyone else. Thanks for not stepping on my shoes. They’re new,” you respond. “They’re the cat’s pyjamas,” he says. “Did your momma give them to you?” “Yes,” you say. Your conversation goes little further than that. Neither of you suggests to stopping dancing, perhaps even saying it could lead to more uncomfortable scenes. [[⬘ Continue|Page 37*]] <<elseif $rogert>>\ “So, um, do you like pictures?” Roger asks. You glance at him. “I love them.” “You’re a girl, right?” You raise your eyebrow, “yes.” “Do you watch...” he trails off, his expression pensive. “Clara Bow?” He shakes his head. “Not her. What’s her name...” “Who—” “Oh yeah! Mallory Skylark! Do you watch her pictures?” he asks. You look away. “I’ve watched some,” you say, your tone subdued. [[⬘ Continue|Page 37*]] <<elseif $oliviadd>>\ You lean closer to Olivia and whisper, “Olive, why is everyone looking at us like that?” Olivia looks around and sees the judgmental eyes of the priests, some of the boys of St. Andrew’s, and your classmates. “I don’t know,” she admits. You see Sister Agatha walking over to you, and Olivia lets go of you. You take your hands off her hips and clasp them behind your hips. “Girls, what are you doing?” Sister Agatha asks. “We’re just dancing,” you reply, confused. “Did we do something wrong?” Sister Agatha looks at you both; something in her expression tells you she doesn’t quite believe you. “Where are you male dates?” “We didn’t ask anyone,” Olivia replies. [[⬘ Continue|Page 37*]] <<elseif $oliviat>>\ “Do you know if she’s coming for your birthday next week?” she asks, touching your shoulder. “No,” you sulk. “She said she will do her best, but if she gets a role, she won’t come. I know that.” “$bio—” “It’s fine. I’m getting used to it, and I have you and our other friends,” you interject. You lean closer to her conspiratorially, “she’ll also feel bad, so I’ll get a nice big gift.” Olivia looks at you seriously, trying to deduce your feelings, but you smile widely. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t contradict you. “We’ll have so much fun!” she exclaims. “I got Nan to bake us a cake!” You get lost in discussing your party plans, and time passes quickly. [[⬘ Continue|Page 37*]] <</if>>

<<if $rogerdd>>\ A priest you don’t know the name of claps his hands. “Everyone! Thank you for conducting yourselves to the standards of your schools. It is late, and we will escort the boys back to St. Andrew’s. Say your goodbyes, please.” You slide your arms, looking at the sweet release of the open double doors. “Thank you for tonight,” you say absentmindedly and stick out your hand. You look at him and see he’s much closer than before. You lean back as his puckered lips reach for you. His eyes are shut tightly. You look around to see if anyone’s watching you. Most of the kids are already filing out. <hr>\ [[✸ Kiss him|Page 38*][$kisso to true]] [[✩ Say a quick goodbye|Page 38*][$byeo to true]] <<elseif $rogert>>\ “I like her. She’s pretty. My momma says she’s a bad influence because all she does is work instead of getting married and having kids,” he explains. You look at him again. “She doesn’t have kids?” Roger shakes his head. “Odd, right? I guess it’s a thing actresses do. You kind of look like her, you could be her daughter but you don’t have her last name.” “Right,” you say in a faraway voice. Your eyes wander, and you lean against the wall. Roger continues talking, but you don’t hear anything else. You don’t know how long you stay that way, but it feels like only minutes have passed before Roger pokes you on the shoulder. “I gotta go now. It was fun talking to you,” he says, grabbing your hand. He places a chaste kiss on it and runs to catch up with his friends, who, along with most of the boys, are already out the door. [[⬘ Continue|Page 39]] <<elseif $oliviadd>>\ Sister Agatha hums and directs her attention to the boy’s side. “You two,” she points to a red-haired and brown-haired boy, “come here and dance with the girls.” The boys cautiously get up and walk over to your group. “Sister Agatha, what did we do?” you ask, tugging her sleeve. Sister Agatha takes your hand and leads you to the red-haired boy. She places your hand on his shoulder and orders him to put his hands on your hips. “It’s nothing, Miss $maiden. It’s best to make the most of the dance and socialize with the boys. It augments the goodwill of the schools,” she replies. When Olivia is paired with the brown-haired boy, she nods in approval and leaves you. You and Olivia look at each other, each confused, but you don’t have time to talk until the dance ends and the boys are led back to St. Andrew’s. The nuns’ eyes follow you two as you walk back to your dormitory. [[⬘ Continue|Page 39*]] <<elseif $oliviat>>\ A priest you don’t know the name of claps his hands. “Everyone! Thank you for conducting yourselves to the standards of your schools. It is late, and we will escort the boys back to St. Andrew’s. Say your goodbyes, please.” You and Olivia get out of there as fast as you can, practically pushing the boys to get back to your dormitory. [[⬘ Continue|Page 39*]] <</if>>

<<if $kisso>>\ You look to see if any of the nuns are paying attention. The crowd of students hide you two very well. You brace yourself and peck Roger on the mouth. It happens so fast you can barely get a feel for his lips. You back away, and Roger’s cheeks go crimson. “You kissed me,” he says with a high voice. “You think I wouldn’t?” you ask, a bit offended. <<set $Rebellious += 1>> Roger shakes his head. “I asked you because I think I’m supposed to, and you’re very pretty.” Your eyebrows furrow, and you say, “well, goodbye.” He doesn’t even respond, his mind in a daze, so you leave him and run to catch up to Olivia. You bite your lip from smiling. <<elseif $byeo>>\ You take several steps back and practically scream, “GOODBYE!” Roger’s eyes open, but you’re already running away before he can say anything. You fall into the group of girls leaving together and find Olivia. She smiles when she sees you, “how did it go?”<<set $Obedient += 1>> You give her a horrified look and link your arm with hers, relating all the details. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 39*]]

That night, you lay in bed; your bed is by the window. The window is open, letting in the cool summer breeze. The curtains blow into the room and let the moonlight shine on your face. You hold your stuffed <<cycle '$toy' autoselect>><<option ' Teddy'>><<option 'Bunny'>><<option 'Tiger'>><<option 'Horse'>><</cycle>> to your chest. Olivia moves to her side, facing the wall. The moonlight reflects off her curlers. She’s been using them more and more lately. <<if $kisso>>\ You roll your lips again. You’ve been doing this for hours. That’s why you can’t sleep. You keep thinking of that kiss. Would it happen again? Did you do it good? //Was that a sin?// Your momma would say there’s no such thing. For someone who has you in a Catholic school, she really likes complaining about it. You shut your eyes and try to dream of that kiss, hoping to repeat it in your mind. <<elseif $byeo>>\ You feel your lips with your finger. You could’ve been kissed. But people were looking, and you would get in trouble, and you didn’t really fancy kissing your date. Your mother would say that you should’ve done it, but she is what you’ve heard your teachers call a ‘heathen.’ You don’t know exactly what that means, but you do know it’s not God’s way. You close your eyes and try to forget the blunder you might’ve done. <<elseif $rogert>>\ You feel a horrible feeling in the middle of your chest. You think about Roger’s words. //My momma says she’s a bad influence because all she does is work instead of getting married and having kids.// You had never thought of what your momma’s life was like in Hollywood. What she said about you when you weren’t there had never occurred to you to think about. But your momma was the most honest person you know. Sometimes, she can be mean because she says what she thinks. Why would she lie about you? You feel your eyes prickly and stubbornly try to wipe them before you stain your pillow. You roll over and try to sleep but wake up most of the night. <<elseif $oliviat>>\ You find you can’t sleep. You wish you could have hoped that your momma would surprise you and be here for your birthday, but you know she won’t. You’re lucky if you manage to see her twice this year. You sometimes wish she had a normal job. You feel your eyes prickly and stubbornly try to wipe them before you stain your pillow. Or you had a dad who could work so she didn’t have to and would come see you. You roll over and try to sleep but spend the rest of the night restless. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 40*]]

<center>This is a work of historical fiction that aims for versmilitude. In this game you might find unpleasant ideas, actions, words and ideologies that correspond to the 1920s and 1930s. These topics range from race, appearance, sexuality, inappriopriate age gaps, implicit sexual assault and gender. The author doesn’t condone these acts nor seeks to glamorize, merely to depict harmful prejudice and injustive in a faithful way for realism and as a sign of respect towards the very real people affected by these things. It does harm to forget the ''//past.//'' Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you intend to play as a transgender character and wish for a comprehensive experience, it is recommended that you choose your character’s assigned gender at birth on the first page. The character is closeted due to the constraints of the time. Gameplay: ✸ — Rebellious choices ✩ — Obedient choices ❃ — Platonic choices [[⬘ Continue.|Page 1]]</center>

<h2>1929</h2> <<audio "swing" loop play>> <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ Your feet dangle over the edge. Your butt aches over the hardness of the ledge you’re seated on. You look from your puny classmates playing on the neatly trimmed glassy field to the distant mountains in blue. Your best friend told you it was risky to sit up here when you’re skipping class and you said ‘nothing beats hiding in plain sight.’ People think of you as somewhat rebellious. You don’t pick fights, talk back as much nor break that many rules. But you do do lighter crimes that as far as you’re concerned harm no one. But not all agree. You’ve missed enough classes to warrant a call to your mother who is set to arrive either today or tomorrow. You’re not worried about her reaction –she finds it amusing when you get in trouble– but she will be peeved she has to come all the way here at all for something that could’ve been a telegram. You pluck a leaf from the vine twined around the balcony and start ripping it up. You watch as the green pieces fly away in the wind. You had hoped it was less windy so that pieces of the leaf fell onto someone’s head under your feet. It would likely be a teacher as your schoolmates have no business walking out the front door. Those double wooden doors creak too. It’s not easy for kids to sneak out. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Rebellious is 2>>\ Your feet dangle over the edge. Your butt aches over the hardness of the ledge you’re seated on. You look from your puny classmates playing on the neatly trimmed glassy field to the distant mountains in blue. You put the gasper you stole from one of the older kids in your mouth. You light it with a match and suck in as you’ve seen the adults do. People think of you as very rebellious. You pick fights, talk back and think of rules as simple suggestions. But you as far as you’re concerned you’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. When you broke Toddy’s nose it was completely justified. You’ve missed enough classes to warrant a call to your mother who is set to arrive either today or tomorrow. You’re not worried about her reaction – she finds it amusing when you get in trouble – but she will be peeved she has to come all the way here at all for something that could’ve been a telegram. You blow out plumes of smoke. Little coughs spout from your throat. You’re still getting used to this. The first time you ever tried one you vomited and vowed never to touch one again. Well, that worked out marvelous. What can you say? You’re a stubborn kid. Those double wooden doors creak too. It’s not easy for kids to sneak out. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ You stroll along the gravel walkways, your hands stuffed into your school coat. You watch the runners going around in circles on the grassy field and then extend your focus to the blue mountains afar. You received a free period for a day because of your high marks in Literature. People think of you as somewhat obedient. You don’t pick fights, talk back at all nor break any rules. You might have gotten chastised a few times for not paying attention that’s hardly uncommon. You find that there it isn’t a concious choice, you just prefer to live a calm existence and you want for little. Your teachers have no compliant. But you also don’t stand out from the crowd. They’re are others students who are more exceptional in scholastic activites than you. Your mother isn’t getting congragulatory telegrams. You pluck a leaf from the tree nearest to you and gently stroke it. The soft texture reminds you of something comforting. You wish you had your $toy here. It’s childish and Roger is the only one who knows you still hug it at night. You look back at the school, it’s imposing gray walls bleakly blight the land. It seems less like a school than a prison at times. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Obedient is 2>>\ You stroll along the gravel walkways, your hands stuffed into your school coat. You watch the runners going around in circles on the grassy field and then extend your focus to the blue mountains afar. The bright badge on your coat proclaims your authority as perfect and thus it works as a great excuse to be outdoors close to curfew. People think of you incredibly obedient. You don’t pick fights, talk back at all nor break any rules. It’s second nature to you to follow the rules, you just prefer to live a calm existence and you want for little. Your teachers have no compliant. They adore you. Your mother gets countless telegrams proclaiming your scholastic achievements. You’re the study the school parades around potential donors. You pluck a leaf from the tree nearest to you and gently stroke it. The soft texture reminds you of something comforting. You wish you had your $toy here. It’s childish and Roger is the only one who knows you still hug it at night. You look back at the school, it’s imposing gray walls bleakly blight the land. It seems less like a school than a prison at times. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Rebellious & $Obedient is 1>>\ You walk by the trees, trying to hide behind them so as to not be seen by any teachers or prefects. You’re supposed to be in class but you lost track of time and now are hoping to pass this free period without detention. People think of you as having a toe in two worlds. There’s two types of students at St. Andrews: those that disobey and those that obey. You weave through them arbitrarily. You don’t pick fights, but you have talked back though you haven’t broken major rules. You find live is easier in moderation. Your teachers have some compliants but it’s never grave. The telegrams sent to your mother are a mixed bag of informing her I got a A- on my Latin class and that I was caught wandering the halls during class. You pluck a leaf from the tree nearest to you and gently stroke it. The soft texture reminds you of something comforting. You wish you had your $toy here. It’s childish and Roger is the only one who knows you still hug it at night. You look back at the school, it’s imposing gray walls bleakly blight the land. It seems less like a school than a prison at times. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 41]]

A fairly sized courtyard is directly in the middle, currently behind where you’re looking. That’s even worse. A fountain lies in the middle, two cherubs covered in bird poop hold hands as water spouts from their mouths. The weeds burst along its circular foundation. It’s horrible going there at night. The creepy statues of saints follow you with their eyes. At least that’s how the story goes. Sometimes the theatre group ends late and you avert your gaze from their whitened concrete eyes. You splay your arms behind you and lean back. You recall the feedback Mr. Bruns gave you. He said <<cycle '$ability' autoselect>><<option 'you have talent'>><<option 'you have talent but you need more practice'>><<option 'are you positive you want to act?'>><</cycle>>. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42]] <<elseif $Rebellious is 2>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-R2]] <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-O1]] <<elseif $Obedient is 2>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-O2]] <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-R1O1]] <</if>>\

<h2>1929</h2> <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ Your feet dangle over the edge. Your butt aches over the hardness of the ledge you’re seated on. You look from your puny classmates playing on the neatly trimmed glassy field to the distant mountains in blue. Your best friend told you it was risky to sit up here when you’re skipping class and you said ‘nothing beats hiding in plain sight.’ People think of you as somewhat rebellious. You don’t pick fights, talk back as much nor break that many rules. But you do do lighter crimes that as far as you’re concerned harm no one. But not all agree. You’ve missed enough classes to warrant a call to your mother who is set to arrive either today or tomorrow. You’re not worried about her reaction –she finds it amusing when you get in trouble– but she will be peeved she has to come all the way here at all for something that could’ve been a telegram. You pluck a leaf from the vine twined around the balcony and start ripping it up. You watch as the green pieces fly away in the wind. You had hoped it was less windy so that pieces of the leaf fell onto someone’s head under your feet. It would likely be a teacher as your schoolmates have no business walking out the front door. Those double wooden doors creak too. It’s not easy for kids to sneak out. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Rebellious is 2>>\ Your feet dangle over the edge. Your butt aches over the hardness of the ledge you’re seated on. You look from your puny classmates playing on the neatly trimmed glassy field to the distant mountains in blue. You put the gasper you stole from one of the older kids in your mouth. You light it with a match and suck in as you’ve seen the adults do. People think of you as very rebellious. You pick fights, talk back and think of rules as simple suggestions. But you as far as you’re concerned you’ve never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. When you broke Toddy’s nose it was completely justified. You’ve missed enough classes to warrant a call to your mother who is set to arrive either today or tomorrow. You’re not worried about her reaction – she finds it amusing when you get in trouble – but she will be peeved she has to come all the way here at all for something that could’ve been a telegram. You blow out plumes of smoke. Little coughs spout from your throat. You’re still getting used to this. The first time you ever tried one you vomited and vowed never to touch one again. Well, that worked out marvelous. What can you say? You’re a stubborn kid. Those double wooden doors creak too. It’s not easy for kids to sneak out. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ You stroll along the gravel walkways, your hands stuffed into your school coat. You watch the runners going around in circles on the grassy field and then extend your focus to the blue mountains afar. You received a free period for a day because of your high marks in Literature. People think of you as somewhat obedient. You don’t pick fights, talk back at all nor break any rules. You might have gotten chastised a few times for not paying attention that’s hardly uncommon. You find that there it isn’t a concious choice, you just prefer to live a calm existence and you want for little. Your teachers have no compliant. But you also don’t stand out from the crowd. They’re are others students who are more exceptional in scholastic activites than you. Your mother isn’t getting congragulatory telegrams. You pluck a leaf from the tree nearest to you and gently stroke it. The soft texture reminds you of something comforting. You wish you had your $toy here. It’s childish and Roger is the only one who knows you still hug it at night. You look back at the school, it’s imposing gray walls bleakly blight the land. It seems less like a school than a prison at times. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Obedient is 2>>\ You stroll along the gravel walkways, your hands stuffed into your school coat. You watch the runners going around in circles on the grassy field and then extend your focus to the blue mountains afar. The bright badge on your coat proclaims your authority as perfect and thus it works as a great excuse to be outdoors close to curfew. People think of you incredibly obedient. You don’t pick fights, talk back at all nor break any rules. It’s second nature to you to follow the rules, you just prefer to live a calm existence and you want for little. Your teachers have no compliant. They adore you. Your mother gets countless telegrams proclaiming your scholastic achievements. You’re the study the school parades around potential donors. You pluck a leaf from the tree nearest to you and gently stroke it. The soft texture reminds you of something comforting. You wish you had your $toy here. It’s childish and Roger is the only one who knows you still hug it at night. You look back at the school, it’s imposing gray walls bleakly blight the land. It seems less like a school than a prison at times. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <<elseif $Rebellious & $Obedient is 1>>\ You walk by the trees, trying to hide behind them so as to not be seen by any teachers or prefects. You’re supposed to be in class but you lost track of time and now are hoping to pass this free period without detention. People think of you as having a toe in two worlds. There’s two types of students at St. Andrews: those that disobey and those that obey. You weave through them arbitrarily. You don’t pick fights, but you have talked back though you haven’t broken major rules. You find live is easier in moderation. Your teachers have some compliants but it’s never grave. The telegrams sent to your mother are a mixed bag of informing her I got a A- on my Latin class and that I was caught wandering the halls during class. You pluck a leaf from the tree nearest to you and gently stroke it. The soft texture reminds you of something comforting. You wish you had your $toy here. It’s childish and Roger is the only one who knows you still hug it at night. You look back at the school, it’s imposing gray walls bleakly blight the land. It seems less like a school than a prison at times. For a big school it doesn’t have a lot of exits. Maybe it’s because it’s old as the caretaker. It certainly looks like it with its many floors with dusted windows, squeaky doors, bad furnace and the constant smell of old books. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 41*]]

A fairly sized courtyard is directly in the middle, currently behind where you’re looking. That’s even worse. A fountain lies in the middle, two cherubs covered in bird poop hold hands as water spouts from their mouths. The weeds burst along its circular foundation. It’s horrible going there at night. The creepy statues of saints follow you with their eyes. At least that’s how the story goes. Sometimes the theatre group ends late and you avert your gaze from their whitened concrete eyes. You splay your arms behind you and lean back. You recall the feedback Mrs. Bruns gave you. She said <<cycle '$ability' autoselect>><<option 'you have talent'>><<option 'are you positive you want to act?'>><<option 'you have talent but you need more practice'>><</cycle>>. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42*]] <<elseif $Rebellious is 2>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-R2*]] <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-O1*]] <<elseif $Obedient is 2>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-O2*]] <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 42-R1O1*]] <</if>>\

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jason. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jason? Everyone knows Medea is the main character.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jason? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jason. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jason. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jason telling Medea he is marrying someone else. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Macbeth. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Macbeth? Everyone knows Malcolm is the true hero.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macebth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Macbeth? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Macbeth. Your rival Zachary Mills got Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Curculio. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Curculio? Everyone knows Phaedromus is the true hero.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Curculio. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Curculio? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Curculio. Your rival Zachary Mills got Curculio. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jimmy. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jimmy? Everyone knows Peter is the one who starts the plot.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jimmy? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jimmy. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44]]

When you told Roger what you did he threw his head back and laughed, slapping you on the back. “You have it!” You raise an eyebrow, “have what?” “You know,” he waves his hand vaguely at you from head to toe, “the star thing. You could be really famous.” You consider that, your fork moving around your plate. Could you be famous? Do you want to be? “Are you gonna finish that?” Roger asks, pointing to your mashed potatoes, “I’m still hungry.” You elbow him, “move back fatty.” Roger sticks his tongue out and you flick some food at him. A bit of potatoes land on his school shirt and he wipes it off with his finger, sticking it in his mouth. “Hurry up, I wanna show you something I found at the library,” he says in a low voice. “Since when do you go to the library?” Roger wiggles his eyebrows at you. “You’ll see.” You shovel food into your mouth until the Headmaster announces dinner time is over. You deposit your trays and go back to the dorm. You kick off your shoes, while Roger throws himself on his bed with his shoes on. You push his legs aside and lay down next to him. [[⬘ Continue|Page 45]]

<<audio "swing" stop>>\ “So–” “Shhhhhh!” Roger chastises. He props himself up and looks around the room as if any second Brother Marcus will pop out from under the bed and send you to get your lashings. When he’s made sure it’s safe he reaches over to the space between his bed and the wall, pulling out two books. He lays them face up in front of you and you read the covers. “Lady Chatterley’s Lover and Orlando…,” you pronounce with a furrow in your young brow. You look at your best friend and he nods to the books, “did you know the library has books we aren’t allowed to read? Bad books.” You faintly chuckle, “I’ve heard that some girls at St. Agnes got the ruler for reading something perverted.” “Yes, and this is what they were reading,” he taps each book in turn. You don’t notice that you’re whispering when you ask, “did you read them?” Roger nods once and flips through //<<cycle '$book' autoselect>><<option 'Lady Chatterley’s Lover'>><<option 'Orlando'>><</cycle>>//. //Note: if you seek to play as a trans character, choose Orlando first.// [[⬘ Continue|Page 46]]

<<if $book is 'Lady Chatterley’s Lover'>>\ He grabs //Lady Chatterley’s Lover// and holds it up to you. “Why do you think this one is banned?” “Blasphemy?” you venture. Roger smiles, “you could call it that.” He rolls over and his shoulder presses against yours. He flips open the book and taps on a page. He began to read, his voice is ticklish as his lips near your ear. <<elseif $book is 'Orlando'>>\ “This is about a man who turns into a woman and never turns back.” Your eyes widen, “does he do women things?” Roger looks uncomfortable when he responds, “yes. Gets married and stuff.” You inhale and skim through the text. Roger props himself up on his elbow and watches you. The main character seems to have no qualms about suddenly turning into a woman; but rather it makes his life better than it was. No doubts, no second guesses. It all seems to fall into place as if somewhere in the vast machination of God’s plan he made an error and placed someone in the world where they should not be. No, not error. God doesn’t err. Perhaps it was meant to be this way and one just needed to look within to see the truth. You became aware of your body once more. Ever since your voice has dropped and hair started sprouting in places previously smooth you’ve come to notice your physical appearance in a way that can’t be ignored as it was when things like this didn’t matter as much. You hated the idea that one day hair would grow on your smooth cheeks, that your chest would become hard and unyielding. Your thighs, rough and scratchy. The image of yourself within your mind contradicted what you saw in the mirror. //How beautiful women are.// You press the book to your bosom and ask Roger, “can I read this?” Roger was already staring at you. His eyes hold something there that makes you nervous. Did you speak your thoughts out loud? He grabs //Lady Chatterley’s Lover// and holds it up to you. “Why do you think this one is banned?” “Blasphemy?” you venture. Roger smiles, “you could call it that.” He rolls over and his shoulder presses against yours. He flips open the book and taps on a page. He began to read, his voice and ticklish as his lips neared your ear. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 47]]

//“He too had bared the front part of his body and she felt his naked flesh against her as he came into her. For a moment he was still inside her, turgid there and quivering. Then as he began to move, in the sudden helpless orgasm, there awoke in her new strange thrills rippling inside her.”// Your breath hitches and you want to move away from his words but an ironclad weight presses down on you as his reading continues. His voice is low, almost seductive you would say as if two weren’t friends but long-lost lovers underneath a tree. //“She lay unconscious of the wild little cries she uttered at the last,”// he whispers. Your face grows warm and your throat feels too dry. Words of protest tumble out of your mouth, “Roger we shouldn’t read this. It’s perverted.” You feel his eyes burning a hole into you and you feel something will change if you meet his gaze. Your life is full of far too many unknowns to enjoy plunging into change. Last year a boy named Danny asked Brother Finch – who teaches health education – exactly how babies were made. Brother Finch went pale and started stuttering. He mentioned how these things were only meant to be spoken about between a man and his wife. Now, you all knew how it happened. But most of you could never imagine getting to that place much less kissing a girl. <<if $kisso>>You had kissed Olivia. Nothing ever came of it and neither of you truly wanted anything more than that.<<else>>You had had your first kiss entirely through spin the bottle. It was embarrassing.<</if>> Girls liked you. They would slip notes under your door for Valentine’s Day. You would get suggestions from them, unsubtly asking you to ask them to dances and outings. They blushed when you walked by. You didn’t know why at first until some boys – jealous of the attention you got – started calling you Casanova or Valentino. Your face is eye-catching it seems. You had <<cycle '$date' autoselect>><<option 'dated some girls but casually. It was natural they had told me, a man must have these urges but under control'>><<option 'never dated anyone although not for lack of chances'>><</cycle>>. But intercourse? It makes you want to vomit from the anxiety. //“Whilst all her womb was open and soft, and softly clamouring, like a sea anenome under the tide, clamouring for him to come in again and make fulfillment for her.”// “Goddamnit Roger shut your mouth!” you yell. But in that act you also look at him without meaning to and the expression in his brown eyes makes your stomach lurch. Then… <<cycle '$gaypanic' autoselect>><<option 'you kiss'>><<option 'you pull away. Fearful of what you feel'>><<option 'you pull away. Certain of your choice'>><</cycle>>. [[⬘ Continue|Page 48]]

<<if $gaypanic is 'you kiss'>>\ You press your lips together, your noses mushing against each other. Too many teeth and tongues that don’t know how to dance the dance of lovers. The room sounds of kisses. Your hands shake as you cup his face and press his chapped mouth so close to yours it hurts. You feel wetness on your cheeks but Roger presses a hand to your chest, touching your collarbone and you let him guide you down on his bed, his body over yours. His hand exploring your hair and arms. And you feel something touch you. Down there. It sends a shot of nervousness throughout your head and before you can tell him that you aren’t ready for whatever this could lead to a loud knock on the door pushes you two apart. Roger springs off of you as if you’d pushed and perhaps you did. You practically dive towards your bed in the second before the door is opened and Brother Marcus’ face appears between the crack. He looks from you to Roger and asks, “routine nightly check. Why are neither of you two in your pyjamas, boys?” Before either of you could respond he claps his hands, “up, up, up, boys.” You look at Roger quickly. He avoids your eyes but his cheeks are pink, his hair is messy and his uniform is in disarray. Brother Marcus keeps a close eye on you until you come back to the room. It dampens whatever had occurred before he knocked and both of you awkwardly slip into bed and turn towards the wall. <<elseif $gaypanic is 'you pull away. Fearful of what you feel'>>\ You jump up and back away. “I-I t-think I’m going to go take my essay to Brother Charles. He said he would help me polish it before I submit it,” you babble. Roger has a panicked look in his eye and he hastens to throw the offending book back into the hiding spot, “oh, that’s, that’s… plan.” He’s not making much sense but the room has grown unbearable so you grab your notebook and rush to the door. You don’t look back as you say, “bye!” You slam the door before you hear a reply. You speed walk down the halls, you don’t even know where you’re going because your essay is perfectly fine. You find yourself in the courtyard and you sit down on the edge of the fountain. You throw your notebook down and put your head in your hands. Thoughts and feelings roar in your mind. //Sinful. Immoral. Perverted. Debauched. Strange. Lust. Desire. Love.// You only notice you’ve cried when you pull your hands away from your face and your palms glisten in the moonlight. <<elseif $gaypanic is 'you pull away. Certain of your choice'>>\ You jump up and back away. “I’m sorry but I just remembered Brother Charles expects me to go over my essay,” you blurt out. Roger has a panicked look in his eye and he hastens to throw the offending book back into the hiding spot, “oh, that’s, that’s… plan.” He’s not making much sense but the room has grown unbearable so you grab your notebook and rush to the door. You don’t look back as you say, “bye!” You slam the door before you hear a reply. You speed walk down the halls, it’s true that you had made plans to work on your essay but you had a week to finish it. You just didn’t want to say what you should’ve. You end up aimlessly walking along the corridors, ducking each time you see a teacher. By the time you slip back into your room, Roger is snoring with his back to you. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 49]]

You pluck at another leaf. Things had been no less than strained between you and Roger since then. He’s awake and out of the room before you and you make sure to get back from hanging out with your friends late. Your common friend group is torn in half, each side wondering what happened between you. They think it was a fight and it’s better that way. Your daydreams and reveries can be endless; what stops you from obsessing over the state of your friendship with Roger is the crunch of gravel under tires. You peek down from the height at which you’re seated to see a familiar car Model T. “Damn,” you murmur and throw your legs over the edge of the balcony. You practically run towards the front doors until you realize how’d it look and slow down. You stop by a mirror and straighten your tie. You slick your hair back and pull on your blazer. You take a deep breath and walk down to the lobby of the school. You hear echoes of adult voices before you see them. Brother Sebastian shakes hands with the man standing next to your mother. You barely glance at the man, your eyes solely for her. She takes up a room, doesn’t she? Your mother stands in her tall heels, her long fur coat, her curled blonde hair and a gasper in her mouth. Practically blowing smoke in Brother Sebastian’s face. <<if $mommafeelings is 'resentful of her'>>\ You resist the urge to run to her and throw your arms around her stomach. She’d probably get embarrassed and even that hypothetical reaction makes you grind your teeth. //You’re her son and she cannot//— you don’t finish that thought. <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'sad because of her'>>\ You resist the urge to run to her and throw your arms around her stomach. She’d probably get embarrassed but you wished she didn’t. How’ve you missed her hugs. When was the last time she gave you one? <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'to understand the demands of her job and her youth'>>\ You resist the urge to run to her and throw your arms around her stomach. She’d probably get embarrassed and you know how much she tries with you. At least you can make it easier for her. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 50]]

You stop in front of the trio and clasp your hands behind your back. “Uh-hemmmm,” you clear your throat noisily. The adults break off their conversation and Mother slightly stoops to air kiss you. “Muffin, why look at you!” she marvels. “Each time I see ya you’ve grown an inch.” She grabs onto the sleeve of the unknown man, “Don, ain’t my boy a real sheik?” Don nods and smiles widely at you, “the cat’s meow. He would look good on film.” Your mother slaps him lightly, “oh, hush you.” Brother Sebastian puts a heavy hand on your shoulder and pushes you forward, “$bio, your mother has come a long way to see you. You’re excused for the rest of the day.” This always happened when your mother visited. The school bent over backward to accommodate her demanding schedule. Mother holds out her hand and you gingerly take it. Her fingers are long and thin. Hardly comfortable but she’ll make a fuss. Don follows a few paces behind and when you turn around to look at him he smiles that same wide smile again. There’s something about it that makes you turn away. “How’s school been, Muffin?” Mother asks. You shrug. “It’s alright. I haven’t failed any of my classes yet.” <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ She throws you a stern look, “a little birdie told me that you haven’t been going to that many classes, Muffin.” You rub the back of your neck. Your mother can only hold her expression for a few seconds before she laughs, “like mother like son. I hated school and that’s why I never finished it. I didn’t need it.” “So I don’t need it?” you ask. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ She throws you a proud look, “a little birdie told me you’re always so well-behaved.” You rub the back of your neck. You don’t know why her praise makes you squirm, “you’re a better student than I ever was. I did everything to never go.” “So I don’t need it?” you ask. <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ She throws you a look, “a little birdie told me you’re an ok student but that you can improve.” You rub the back of your neck. You don’t know why but you never know how she takes your actions, “you’re still a better student than I ever was. I id everything to not go.” “So I don’t need it?” you ask. <</if>>\ Your mother doesn’t respond to that, instead she starts going on Casima Wayne. They starred in a movie together about four years ago and it went so bad on the soundstage that they’ve hated each other ever since. Your mother’s convinced she’s the reason she lost this year’s Academy Award. Casima is a good friend of Mary Pickford. “And everyone who’s anyone in Tinseltown knows I’m a much better performer. But they don’t care about the arts anymore. All they care about is who’s rubbing elbows with who,” she complains. She looks at you, “I deserved that award. Dontcha think?” <<if $mommaacting is 'she looks beautiful in pictures and she’s the best actress in the world'>>\ You have no doubt that your mother has the right to be as arrogant as she is, she’s amazing at her job. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'you don’t understand why she’s so famous and you secretly have other actresses who you like more'>>\ The truth is you have never believed she was that good and that hasn’t changed. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'that she leaves you most of the year to do this. It makes you hurt'>>\ You have never bothered to care, all her acting reminds you of is that she’s never there when you need it. <</if>>\ <hr>\ [[⬨“Of course momma.”|Page 51]] [[⬨“You could win next year.”|Page 51-1]] [[⬨You just smile faintly|Page 51-2]]

<<if $mommaacting is 'she looks beautiful in pictures and she’s the best actress in the world'>>\ Maybe it’s bias on your end but you know she has the talent to win. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'you don’t understand why she’s so famous and you secretly have other actresses who you like more'>>\ You lie well. Your mother would be proud of your acting. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'that she leaves you most of the year to do this. It makes you hurt'>>\ The words taste like cement coming from your mouth. <</if>>\ She huffs, and throws her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. She releases your hand to open her hand bag and take out her sunglasses. “Let’s go sit on the bleachers,” she commands. You trail behind her, your eyes attached to her coat. You still hear Don’s heavy footsteps behind you and you speed up to catch up to your mother. She daintily steps up the small stairs and sits on the highest bench. The junior Rugby team are having their afternoon practice. You sit down beside her and squeeze your hands with your thighs. It’s early Spring, and the winter’s dying breaths linger in the air. “Aren’t we going anywhere?” you ask your mother. She opens her small mirror and moves her face from side-to-side, “later. We have reservations at a little Italian joint. I thought we could talk.” You raise an eyebrow. Talking is not something Mallory Skylark does. Your conversations have never gone beyond safe, forgettable topics, and you’re sure she likes that about your mother-son relationship. She doesn’t have to do any serious parenting. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, I haven’t done anything anyone else hasn’t done and the brothers exaggerate like hell–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans think showing some collar is a sin.” <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, it’s not like I’m not trying it’s just that students are competitive–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans want everyone to be as boring as them. A B+ is better than any grade I ever got.”” <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behavior, I try to do good but it’s not enough for these–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. You aren’t in school to impress these balding priests.” <</if>>\ You nod in agreement and find yourself relaxing. Thankfully your mother has spared any attempt at moralizing. “Well?” She looks at you for a hard second. <<if $parecido is 'your father'>>“You’ve always looked so much like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<<elseif $parecido is 'her'>>“You used to look so much like me, but now you look like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 52]]

You deflect. It’s the only course of action with Mother because unless someone says something strictly negative, she’ll spin ambiguity to a compliment. She huffs, and throws her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. She releases your hand to open her hand bag and take out her sunglasses. “Let’s go sit on the bleachers,” she commands. You trail behind her, your eyes attached to her coat. You still hear Don’s heavy footsteps behind you and you speed up to catch up to your mother. She daintily steps up the small stairs and sits on the highest bench. The junior Rugby team are having their afternoon practice. You sit down beside her and squeeze your hands with your thighs. It’s early Spring, and the winter’s dying breaths linger in the air. “Aren’t we going anywhere?” you ask your mother. She opens her small mirror and moves her face from side-to-side, “later. We have reservations at a little Italian joint. I thought we could talk.” You raise an eyebrow. Talking is not something Mallory Skylark does. Your conversations have never gone beyond safe, forgettable topics, and you’re sure she likes that about your mother-son relationship. She doesn’t have to do any serious parenting. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, I haven’t done anything anyone else hasn’t done and the brothers exaggerate like hell–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans think showing some collar is a sin.” <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, it’s not like I’m not trying it’s just that students are competitive–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans want everyone to be as boring as them. A B+ is better than any grade I ever got.”” <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behavior, I try to do good but it’s not enough for these–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. You aren’t in school to impress these balding priests.” <</if>>\ You nod in agreement and find yourself relaxing. Thankfully your mother has spared any attempt at moralizing. “Well?” She looks at you for a hard second. <<if $parecido is 'your father'>>“You’ve always looked so much like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<<elseif $parecido is 'her'>>“You used to look so much like me, but now you look like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 52]]

She never knows how to respond to you when you don’t use your words, she has said it annoys her to no end. It gives you a bit of satisfaction. She huffs, and throws her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. She releases your hand to open her hand bag and take out her sunglasses. “Let’s go sit on the bleachers,” she commands. You trail behind her, your eyes attached to her coat. You still hear Don’s heavy footsteps behind you and you speed up to catch up to your mother. She daintily steps up the small stairs and sits on the highest bench. The junior Rugby team are having their afternoon practice. You sit down beside her and squeeze your hands with your thighs. It’s early Spring, and the winter’s dying breaths linger in the air. “Aren’t we going anywhere?” you ask your mother. She opens her small mirror and moves her face from side-to-side, “later. We have reservations at a little Italian joint. I thought we could talk.” You raise an eyebrow. Talking is not something Mallory Skylark does. Your conversations have never gone beyond safe, forgettable topics, and you’re sure she likes that about your mother-son relationship. She doesn’t have to do any serious parenting. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, I haven’t done anything anyone else hasn’t done and the brothers exaggerate like hell–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans think showing some collar is a sin.” <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, it’s not like I’m not trying it’s just that students are competitive–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans want everyone to be as boring as them. A B+ is better than any grade I ever got.”” <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behavior, I try to do good but it’s not enough for these–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. You aren’t in school to impress these balding priests.” <</if>>\ You nod in agreement and find yourself relaxing. Thankfully your mother has spared any attempt at moralizing. “Well?” She looks at you for a hard second. <<if $parecido is 'your father'>>“You’ve always looked so much like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<<elseif $parecido is 'her'>>“You used to look so much like me, but now you look like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 52]]

Your eyebrows lower, “Mother? Is it something bad? Did you lose a role?” She shakes her head and looks down at her glove-covered hands. If you didn’t know her better you would say she’s feeling shy. No, it’s something else. A close approximation. A Mallory-flavoured feeling. “You’re a smart boy. My very smart boy and you know why you’re in boarding school, don’t you?” she asks, a solemn tone to her words that contrasts with her usual attitude. As if you were a dora. Your mother, a world famous actress who you can’t pass a magazine cart without seeing her dazzling white smile who has never taken you to see where she lives nor even her job. You don’t know her friends, her partners nor even if she has pets. “Because you didn’t have a husband when you had me and because you were very young,” you reply. Her eyes squint and she looks at the Rubgy players. Her small mouth has gone rigid and this unpleasantness within her is so foreign to you you don’t know how to respond to it. “I can’t do this,” she whispers. “Don!” Don appears immediately and runs up the stairs almost comically to sit right next to you. You scoot closer to your mother. “Oh, you tell him I just can’t bear it,” your mother says dramatically. Don puts a meaty hand on your shoulder which makes you bend due to its weight. “$bio how do ya feel about cameras?” “Fine.” He nods, “that’s swell, boy. Very swell. Good thing you have the face for it because sometime in the next few weeks your face is going to be in the most important magazines in the country.” Your eyes widen, “huh?” Don clicks his tongue. “Oh, yes. You see bud, your mother loves ya. She comes all the way here to see ya and well people have noticed with her being so famous and all. A pesky little reporter by the name of Marissa Culbert. She asked around, tipped some poor gossiper around these parts and now there’s talk of Mallory Skylark’s illegitimate son.” You feel… <hr>\ [[⬨Scared|Page 53][$scared to true]] [[⬨Relief|Page 53][$relief to true]] [[⬨Annoyed|Page 53][$annoyed to true]]

<<if $scared>>\ Everyone will know your business. They’ll see your face and call you a bastard and your mother a harlot. The only reason your schoolmates don’t tease you about your lack of father is because you’re liked. But you feel if your name is on the gossip columns, it’ll make it harder for them to restrain themselves. <<elseif $relief>>\ Your parentage and who you are has been a shadow that’s followed you since you’ve had reason. It’s finally over. You can finally stop hiding away as if you’ve committed a sin when you’re paying for something your mother did. <<elseif $annoyed>>\ You have a good life here, people who like you. It’ll all go away when you’re publicly shamed for something that wasn’t even your fault. Your mother thinks of no one but herself. <</if>>\ “Muffin?” your mother pokes you. You look at her. “You’ve been awfully quiet for the last five minutes. Did you hear Don?” You slowly turn to meet Don’s clear blue eyes. “It’s ok, Mal. It’s a lot to take in.” He moves his hand to slide to your other shoulder and now the weight on his entire arm is bearing down on you. “Your mother and I thought of the brilliant idea to have her interview with Marissa at the school and for you to be part of it. That way Marissa and her sharp talons don’t pick at your Momma and say something absurd,” he explains. You stand straight and Don’s arm falls off of you. “WHAT? You want me to do WHAT?” Don throws your mother a look and then laughs awkwardly when he looks back at you, “well shucks. Mal, you can take it from here right? I gotta call to make to Meyer.” Don claps you hard on the back before getting up. Your mouth has fallen open and when you direct your incredulity at your mother she tries to avoid your eyes by applying lipstick. “Muffin, we aren’t asking for the moon. It’s a quick interview and all you have to do is say some nice things about me. I’ll say some nice things about you and then you don’t have to do anything more. If you want we can make a script,” she states with an affected voice. <hr>\ [[⬨“Momma, I don’t want to do this.”|Page 54][$noi to true]] [[⬨“Momma, I don’t think I can do this.”|Page 54*][$mayi to true]] [[⬨“Momma, I do want to help but…”|Page 54**][$yesi to true]]

She snaps her lipstick tube shut. “And why not?” You let out fake laughter. “Because I don’t feel like it. Is that not enough?” Mallory rolls her eyes, “Muffin, we all have to do things we don’t wanna. That’s what being a grownup is. I can’t pay for your school and get you nice things if no one will hire me.” You clutch your pants, your hands shaking in anger. “So that’s it? I have no choice but to do whatever you say?” She sucks in her cheeks, “yes, because I’m your mother and I have done my best for you.” <<if $mommafeelings is 'resentful of her'>>You laugh mockingly, “oh, have you?”<<elseif $mommafeelings is 'sad because of her'>>You pout, “couldn’t you have done more?”<<<elseif $mommafeelings is 'to understand the demands of her job and her youth'>>You try to look calm, “I know that. I get it but you shouldn’t ask this of me.”<</if>> “Enough $bio,” your mother responds sternly and shuts her handbag. “I thought we could do this nicely, I was willing to answer questions about you’ve ruined my afternoon. The reporter will be here next week and I want you cooperative and nice.” She stands up and briskly steps down the stairs. She stops when she reaches the bottom and looks back at you, there seems to be a look of apology in her eyes but it passes too quickly for you to see.You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. [[⬘ Continue|Page 55]]

She pauses her lipstick application. “And why is that?” You clasp your hands tightly. “I don’t know how to act like that. I’ll be too nervous and I’ll say something–” Mallory lets out a small chuckle, “you’re my son. You’ve seen all my pictures. I know you can do this. Even if you can't, no one can say you’re a liar without proof.” <<if $mommafeelings is 'resentful of her'>>\ “At least you admit it then,” you say under your breath. She narrows her eyes at you, “admit what?” You smile a smile you don’t much feel, “that having me say how great of a mother you are is completely false. That'll have to really be imaginative to make it work.” She throws her lipstick into her bag without shutting it, “if you think you have a bad mother you should’ve met mine.” “I would have to know anything about you to ask–” “Enough $bio,” your mother responds sternly. “I thought we could do this nicely, I was willing to answer questions about you’ve ruined my afternoon. The reporter will be here next week and I want you cooperative and nice.” She stands up and briskly steps down the stairs. She stops when she reaches the bottom and looks back at you, there seems to be a look of apology in her eyes but it passes too quickly for you to see. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'sad because of her'>>\ “I wish I didn’t have to lie, Momma,” you say sullenly. She swipes at her lips, “I misspoke. I meant to say that you’ll just have to gush a bit more about me. Just go on and over about the clothes I got you from Italy last summer.” You let out a sigh. “I just wish we could talk more–” She closes her lipstick tube and puts it in her bag, “we’ll go over the details at dinner, Muffin.” “No, I mean–” “Later, Muffin,” your mother responds sternly. “I’m exhausted and I can’t stomach a heart-to-heart right now. The reporter will be here next week. All you need to remember is to be cooperative and nice.” She stands up, and then pauses. She looks down at you and runs a gentle hand through your hair before briskly passing you.You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'to understand the demands of her job and her youth'>>\ “I’m not trying to be difficult but I think this is too much,” you admit. Your mother rolls her red-colored lips together. “Too much? Too much is acting in front of hundreds of people and having journalists rip apart every aspect of your life. That’s too much. All you have to do is go to school, don’t get into too much trouble and smile.” “Well when you say it like that…,” you reply with a bit of a pout at how childish she makes you out to be. She pushes up her sunglasses. “You’ll do fine, Muffin. But I am awful at comforting people so it’ll see you at dinner, we’ll both be much more fun. And really, your performance is about being cooperative and nice with Mrs. Cuthbert.” She stands up, and then pauses. She looks down at you and runs a gentle hand through your hair before briskly passing you. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 55]]

“That’s great, Muffin!” She lightly kisses you on the cheek and then wipes it off with her glove-finger, “oh, look at that now the priests will think you’ve been sinful haha.” “Mo\mma, but–” “And because you’re such a good boy I will answer a question you may have,” she claims and puts her lipstick back in her bag. You forget your protestations immediately. “Question? What kind?” She smiles slyly, “you know what kind.” She folds her hands on her lap, edges her body toward you and arches an eyebrow. You feel out of breath. There’s so many questions you could ask that have been rolling in your head for years. Wishes so deep they hurt. “Only one?” She nods. “Better choose good, Muffin ‘cause I ain’t give you second chances.” <hr>\ [[⬨“Who’s my father?”|Page 55*][$fath to true]] [[⬨“Why didn’t you and my father marry?”|Page 55*][$fath1 to true]] [[⬨“Where is my father?”|Page 55*][$fath2 to true]] [[⬨“Why don’t you like being here?”|Page 55*][$fath3 to true]] [[⬨“Will you ever take me to Los Angeles?”|Page 55*][$fath4 to true]] [[⬨“Will I be famous now?”|Page 55*][$fath5 to true]] [[⬨“Is that man your boyfriend?”|Page 55*][$fath6 to true]]

You run the comb through your hair, the Brilliantine makes your $haircolor hair shine in the daylight. You take a step back from the mirror and sweep your eyes along yourself. Don suggested you should wear your school uniform to give the idea that you’re a proper young gentleman. <<if $noi>>\ But you still hadn’t let go of the idea that you didn’t want to do this so in a small act of defiance you wore your everyday clothes, the ritzy ones at least. <<elseif $mayi>>\ But you were too nervous to handle having a tight tie around your neck so you did away with it. Your mother won’t like it but it’s the least she can accept given what you’re doing for her. <<elseif $yesi>>\ And you did as you were told. You want to make this work as quickly as possible so that your mother will be proud of you and that the world doesn’t condemn the circumstances of your birth. <</if>>\ The door opens and Roger nearly runs into you. He backs away as if you’d lifted your hand to hit him. He looks at you briefly before looking away and going to his bed. This silent treatment was worrying you. Would it always be like this now? “I’m doing an interview today,” you mention in an off-hand manner. He flips through a book, “ok.” You apply some cologne, “it’s with my mother.” “Swell,” he replies without looking up. You exhale and throw him a scornful look, “no words of encouragement then?” Roger is quiet for a moment and then slowly looks up. His eyes widen when he sees you, “you look…” You swallow. “So… good enough?” He eyes you slowly and you feel like covering up even though you’re completely covered. Finally, he meets your eyes. “Trying to seduce the reporter, Casanova?” Then he smiles at you and you feel like crying like a girl. “See you after?” He looks back down at his book, “find me in the dining hall.” There’s a pip in your step as you start walking to the interview. You go over in your head all that your mother told you. How to greet Mrs. Cuthbert, how to sit, how to answer questions. She told you to be nice and cooperative. So you’ve chosen to… <hr>\ [[⬨Be nice and cooperative|Page 56][$nice to true]] [[⬨Be aloof and succinct |Page 56][$aloof to true]] [[⬨Be humorous and charming|Page 56][$humorous to true]]

<<if $fath>>\ She smiles faintly. “I knew that was coming.” She gently moved your hair behind your ear. “I never knew his real name or anything about him. Only what he looked like then.” “Because I remind you of him?” you ask. Her smile turns sad, “all the time.” She looks away and clears her voice, “sorry I can’t give you more but it was so long ago now and it doesn’t really matter. You have me and that’s all you need.” She looks at you as if seeking approval and you just smile back. She runs a hand through your hair and gets up, “I have to go check in at the hotel, I’ll pick you up later.” She stands up and briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath1>>\ She chuckles. “This school has taught you some annoying things.” She gently moved your hair behind your ear. “I was too young, I would’ve needed my father’s permission and I didn’t want to marry and I don’t think he did either.” “But did he say that?” you ask eagerly. “Don’t you think he’d like to marry if you met again now?” Your mother shakes her head, “Muffin, I answered your question. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m pooped. I’ll pick you up later.” She runs a hand through your hair and stands up. She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath2>>\ She sighs. “I don’t know.” She gently moved your hair behind your ear. “I can see you don’t believe me but the last time I saw him was a few days after I found out I was knocked up.” You grimace at the crude way she refers to her pregnancy. “Have you tried looking for him?” Your mother gives you a reproachful look. “Muffin, the deal was that I answered one question and I did, don’t be a cake eater.” You find yourself pouting and your mother laughs, quickly kissing your head. “You do have some of me in there.” She abruptly stands up, “I’ll pick you up tonight.” She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath3>>\ She rubs her forehead. “This place is boring, Muffin. I hate towns and I think nature is disgusting. Cities have always been the place for me.” You can’t help but think that maybe she finds something else boring too. But rather than voice it you merely say, “there’s no cameras here.” She grins, “very true! I feel like a real fish out of water with all the matronly fat mothers. Muffin, if I ever gain fat just kill me.” She quickly kisses your cheek and stands up. She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath4>>\ She takes your hand for a moment. “One day. Now that everyone will know I have a son I can take you there. You’ll love it, Muffin. We’ll go to the Brown Derby, stroll down Sunset and ohhh the Sign too!” You feel your lips widen, “really? Can I see where you work?” She agrees. “Oh, Muffin, you'll love the studio lot! So many sets of my movies are still there! And oh, you have to meet Patty Malone! She is one of my favourite scene partners.” You feel excitement form in your chest, you can picture your mother presenting you to all her friends. Pride in her voice as she says you’re her son. She runs a hand through your hair and stands up. “Well that was swell. But I have to go, I’m pooped. I’ll see you for dinner.” She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath5>>\ She laughs. “You’re my son, of course you’ll be famous now. But not as famous as me and that’s swell, Muffin. You should finish school and all that jazz.” You scowl and she laughs. “I never finished school, Muffin. But that’s swell because I wasn’t made for sitting in a room and listening to an old man moaning on about things I had no brain for.” You think it’s a bit unfair that you have to endure lecture while she didn’t but you know it’s pointless to argue. She runs a hand through your hair and stands up. “Well that was swell. But I have to go, I’m pooped. I’ll see you for dinner.” She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath6>>\ She looks puzzled, “Don? Of course not! He’s far too old and frankly unattractive. I’ll give you a piece of advice, Muffin. Never be with someone who isn’t as beautiful as you are or you’ll suffer.” Your eyebrows knit together, “shouldn’t you love someone because of their soul not what they look like?” Your mother looks at you strangely before snorting. “That’s a nice dream, Muffin. But in the real world no one cares for anyone and if you’re going to tie yourself to a person at least make sure they’re nice to look at so you can handle all their faults.” She sighs and then gets up. She pats your head and then briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 55]]

Headmaster Francis agreed to let it all take place in his own private office within the wing of the school that has housed all the headmasters. When you arrive you hear voices behind the door and you knock firmly. The door swings open and Don’s sweaty face greets you. “$bio! Well, aren’t you looking dapper.” <<if $noi>>His eye twitches at your choice of clothing but he says nothing more to you.<<elseif $mayi>>His smile wavers as he zeroes in on your lack of tie but he says nothing more to you.<<elseif $yesi>>He nods at your immaculate uniform.<</if>> He stands back and gestures for you to come in. He shuts the door behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, “here’s our missing star!” Your mother looks away from the woman currently dapping her cheeks with rouge, “oh, Muffin! C’mon here.” She holds out her hand to you and you go to it. When you pass the long-backed chair you notice another woman sitting in it. She is scribbling on a notepad, her seashell eyeglasses catch your attention for it’s simple wacky contrast to the rest of her that seems so prim and proper. Your mother pulls you down to sit next to her on a rather snug sofa. She moves away from the makeup puff, “Vivi, you think he needs some color to his cheeks?” Vivi looks at you and then shrugs.<<if $skincolor is 'and porcelain skin'>>“The paleness works on him.”<<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more sunkissed'>>“He’s a bit too tan, it’ll look like he’s just run a marathon.” You don’t know why but her words make you feel ashamed. <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more brown like a walnut'>>“His skin is too dark, it’ll look unnatural.” She says it as if the idea is ridiculous, as if someone with your complexion doesn’t deserve it.<</if>> “Swell,” your mother replies. “Muffin, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Marissa Cuthbert. Reporter extraordinaire who has had the courtesy to come all the way here from Los Angeles to speak to you.” Your mother’s voice sounds sickly sweet. Put-on like it did when she would play innocent ingenues earlier in her career. Mrs. Cuthbert must also see through it because she looks up from paper and then looks back down. “This will be quick, I have a plane to catch.” Your mother’s smile tightens. “Alright,” she says between gritted teeth. “Vivi, that’s enough rouge I don’t want to look like I got frostbite.” Vivi retreats to the wall and starts quietly packing up the makeup. Your mother ruffles her curls and grabs your hand, laying it on her lap. Your hand clenches but you don’t move it away. Mrs. Cuthbert clears her throat and leans back into the chair. She by-passes your mother to look straight at you. Her pencil poised on the paper. [[⬘ Continue|Page 57]]

“You’re $bio Sky $maiden, right?” You nod and your mother squeezes your hand. “I need you to use your words Mr. $maiden,” Mrs. Cuthbert says tiredly. <<if $nice>>\ “Yes, that’s me. It’s very nice to meet you Mrs. Cuthbert and thank you for coming,” you reply. You look at your mother and she smiles at you. It makes you feel warm. Mrs. Cuthbert eyes you and starts writing. “What do you feel about the fact that your mother has neglected her duties of you to live the high-life in Hollywood?” she inquiries monotonly. “I have not neglected–” “I’m asking your son Ms. Skylark. We’ll get to you soon,” Mrs. Cuthbert interjects. Your mother looks like she wants to spring but instead she nods and smiles, leaning back into the couch. “Of course.” Mrs. Cuthbert turns to you again, “what is your response to that?” Don stands in behind and he pulls at his mouth to make a grotesque smile. “Um, my mother doesn’t neglect me. She works a lot to provide for me. I’ve been able to go to this great school because of how much she cares for me. I go to bed with a belly full every night because of her hard work. Thank you,” you answer calmly. The reporter looks at you as if you said something predictable — boring even. Nevertheless she writes your response down. “How do you feel about being raised without a father?” Your mother’s hand stiffens and you rub her knuckles. “I would like to meet him but I don’t begrudge my mother. She has been both mother and father to me.” Mrs. Cuthbert makes a ‘hm’ sound in her throat before raising her eyebrows in mockery and writing. “Do you think it is a sign of good parenting to be in such a public, unpredictable, and oftentimes scandalous job that harms the sensibilities of traditional American values?” “Again with that hubbub of moralistic wet-blanket bull–” your mother interjects. “I think,” Don interrupts and places a hand on the back of Mrs. Cuthbert’s chair, “we shouldn’t ask the boy such political questions. He’s just fifteen after all.” Your mother’s nostrils have flared and Mrs. Cuthbert doesn’t even glance at Don. She seems to have a glint in her at watching your mother’s reaction. //She doesn’t like her at all.// “I’ll leave that question to the side then. Mallory,” she moves in her seat so her knees are pointed in your mother’s direction. “Why did you adopt a child at such a precarious moment in your career?” <<elseif $aloof>>\ “Yes,” you reply. You feel your mother’s eyes on you which you promptly ignore. It makes you feel good. Mrs. Cuthbert eyes you and starts writing. “What do you feel about the fact that your mother has neglected her duties of you to live the high-life in Hollywood?” she inquiries monotonly. “I have not neglected–” “I’m asking your son Ms. Skylark. We’ll get to you soon,” Mrs. Cuthbert interjects. Your mother looks like she wants to spring but instead she nods and smiles, leaning back into the couch. “Of course.” Mrs. Cuthbert turns to you again, “what is your response to that?” Don stands in behind and he pulls at his mouth to make a grotesque smile. “I’m fine. I can’t complain,” you answer calmly. The reporter looks at you’re the biggest party-pooper this side of the US. She can bite you. Nevertheless she writes your response down. “How do you feel about being raised without a father?” Your mother’s hand stiffens and you try to pull your hand away. “I haven’t really thought about it.” Mrs. Cuthbert makes a ‘hm’ sound in her throat before rolling her eyes and writing. “Do you think it is a sign of good parenting to be in such a public, unpredictable, and oftentimes scandalous job that harms the sensibilities of traditional American values?” “Again with that hubbub of moralistic wet-blanket bull–” your mother interjects. “I think,” Don interrupts and places a hand on the back of Mrs. Cuthbert’s chair, “we shouldn’t ask the boy such political questions. He’s just fifteen after all.” Your mother’s nostrils have flared and Mrs. Cuthbert doesn’t even glance at Don. She seems to have a glint in her at watching your mother’s reaction. //She doesn’t like her at all.// “I’ll leave that question to the side then. Mallory,” she moves in her seat so her knees are pointed in your mother’s direction. “Why did you adopt a child at such a precarious moment in your career?” <<elseif $humorous>>\ “And you’re Marissa Cuthbert, still my beating heart,” you grin and lean over to shake her hand. You look at your mother as if to say ‘see?.’ Her lips quiver. Mrs. Cuthbert eyes you and starts writing. “What do you feel about the fact that your mother has neglected her duties of you to live the high-life in Hollywood?” she inquiries monotonly. “I have not neglected–” “I’m asking your son Ms. Skylark. We’ll get to you soon,” Mrs. Cuthbert interjects. Your mother looks like she wants to spring but instead she nods and smiles, leaning back into the couch. “Of course.” Mrs. Cuthbert turns to you again, “what is your response to that?” Don stands in behind and he pulls at his mouth to make a grotesque smile. “So we ain’t easing into it? Now that’s more like that. I will say my mother is a fabulous woman, I mean… who wouldn’t want a famous mother?” you wiggle your eyebrows. “A mother who’s a cook?” you pretend to yawn, “a schoolteacher?” you roll your eyes goodnaturedly. “What a drag. My mother is loved by the nation. I couldn’t be more proud.” The reporter gives you a puzzled look. You didn’t exactly answer her question but your words spin her around until her eyes roll in her noggin’ and she doesn’t know that you said a load of baloney. With hesitance she writes your answer down. “How do you feel about being raised without a father?” Your mother’s hand stiffens and you cover it up by leaning your head on her shoulder. “The only true father I have is the Lord. Wouldn’t you say he’s enough?” You innocently wink at her. Mrs. Cuthbert makes a ‘hm’ sound in her throat before writing that down too. “Do you think it is a sign of good parenting to be in such a public, unpredictable, and oftentimes scandalous job that harms the sensibilities of traditional American values?” “Again with that hubbub of moralistic wet-blanket bull–” your mother interjects. “I think,” Don interrupts and places a hand on the back of Mrs. Cuthbert’s chair, “we shouldn’t ask the boy such political questions. He’s just fifteen after all.” Your mother’s nostrils have flared and Mrs. Cuthbert doesn’t even glance at Don. She seems to have a glint in her at watching your mother’s reaction. //She doesn’t like her at all.// “I’ll leave that question to the side then. Mallory,” she moves in her seat so her knees are pointed in your mother’s direction. “Why did you adopt a child at such a precarious moment in your career?” <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 58]]

Your blood chills. The hand that’s encased within your mothers seems to lose all feeling. “Precisely because it was a precarious moment, Marissa. My career was going down the chute, I was being accused of debauchery for a role I only acted in. I needed comfort and I had been good friends and patron of St. Andrews’ for a few years as it holds a special place in my heart, as you know this was my father’s alma mater…” Your eyes flutter as if something is caught within them and your stomach drops. Or perhaps this is simply a feeling of emptiness. You’ve been ripped open and your insides dug in by your mother’s hands to trade in for something more valuable to her. You hear only snippets of what she says but you piece together that her and that slimy agent of her’s must’ve come up with. The idea of inventing that the priests had taken you in after being abandoned on their doorstep. That your mother in her gloriously magnanimity had taken pity on you and adopted you when you were 5 in 1922. Your brain latches onto the fact that you’re said to be 3 years younger than you are. Your mother’s replies to Mrs. Cuthbert’s answers come in waves. You catch the beginning or the end each time. <<if $skincolor is 'and porcelain skin'>>\ “... your son is big for his age, Mallory,” Mrs. Cuthbert comments, eyeing you suspiciously. Your mother smiles sweetly at her, almost flirtatiously as she does with all she meets. “The food at St. Andrews’ of the finest to promote healthy brawny boys.” You want to squeeze yourself smaller somehow, you don’t want their eyes prying on your body to see lies. <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more sunkissed'>>\ “... your son is big for his age and a bit darker Mallory,” Mrs. Cuthbert comments, eyeing you suspiciously. “Don’t you know his ancestry?” Your mother smiles sweetly at her, almost flirtatiously as she does with all she meets. “The food at St. Andrews’ of the finest to promote healthy brawny boys. As for his parentage? I hardly know. Perhaps Italian or a gypsy.” You look at your hands, how they contrast with your mother’s pale smooth skin. It’s never been more clear to you how different you are from everyone you know. <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more brown like a walnut'>>\ “... your son is big for his age and dark Mallory,” Mrs. Cuthbert comments, eyeing you suspiciously. “Don’t you know his ancestry?” Your mother smiles sweetly at her, almost flirtatiously as she does with all she meets. “The food at St. Andrews’ of the finest to promote healthy brawny boys. As for his parentage? I hardly know. Perhaps red Indian or colored.” You look at your hands, how deeply they contrast with your mother’s pale smooth skin. It’s never been more clear to you how different you are from everyone you know. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 59]]

<<if $nice>>\ “Muffin?” your mother squeezes your hand. You look away from the lamp you had been mindlessly staring at and slowly meet her $eyes eyes. “Mrs. Cuthbert is leaving now. Be a good boy and say goodbye,” she instructs gently. Her eyes seem to want to say something to you, there’s a softness there that looks sad. It takes you great effort to manage a small smile, “it was nice speaking to you Ma’am.” “Take care, $bio,” Mrs. Cuthbert says with a set gravitas to her eyes. “Truly.” You make to stand up but your mother yanks you back down. Her eyes follow Mrs. Cuthbert as she packs her things and Don escorts her to her taxi. When the door shuts behind them your mother lets out a long sigh and leans back into the couch, sliding down. “Jesus, how gaudy.” She doesn’t let go of you. Holding your hand as a leash that she drags down along the school until you arrive at the open front doors. Don leans on the Model T, smoking. She looks back at you and smiles. “You were fabulous, Muffin. I couldn’t have asked for a better performance.” There’s so much you wanted to say but your tongue felt heavy with all the feelings it wanted to express. Instead you decide to let whatever overwhelming feeling comes out of you to dictate what you say without a care. <<elseif $aloof>>\ “Muffin?” your mother squeezes your hand. You look away from the lamp you had been mindlessly staring at and slowly meet her brown eyes. You roughly pull your hand away, safeguarding it in your pocket. “Mrs. Cuthbert is leaving now. Be a good boy and say goodbye,” she instructs gently. Her eyes seem to want to say something to you, there’s a softness there that looks sad. You look at that nosy woman blankly, “farewell.” “Take care, $bio,” Mrs. Cuthbert says with a set gravitas to her eyes. “Truly.” You make to stand up but your mother yanks you back down. Her eyes follow Mrs. Cuthbert as she packs her things and Don escorts her to her taxi. When the door shuts behind them your mother lets out a long sigh and leans back into the couch, sliding down. “Jesus, how gaudy.” You pull her hand off of you and she just latches onto another aspect of you until she has you grabbed by the bicep. She pulls you along, with remarkable strength for such a petite frame against your dragging feet. She ceases her efforts at the open front doors. Don leans on the Model T, smoking. She looks back at you and grimaces. “I asked you to do one thing for me. Just… one,” she lifts a finger, “and what do you do? Act like a rude little boy!” There’s so much you wanted to say but your tongue felt heavy with all the feelings it wanted to express. Instead you decide to let whatever overwhelming feeling comes out of you to dictate what you say without a care. <<elseif $humorous>>\ “Muffin?” your mother squeezes your hand. You look away from the lamp you had been mindlessly staring at and slowly meet her brown eyes. “Mrs. Cuthbert is leaving now. Be a good boy and say goodbye,” she instructs gently. Her eyes seem to want to say something to you, there’s a softness there that looks sad. You shine your pearly whites, “if reporters are nearly as pretty as you I’ll have to get into scandals more frequently.” Mrs. Cuthbert sighs while Don at least laughs. “Take care, $bio,” Mrs. Cuthbert says with a set gravitas to her eyes. “Truly.” You make to stand up but your mother yanks you back down. Her eyes follow Mrs. Cuthbert as she packs her things and Don escorts her to her taxi. When the door shuts behind them your mother lets out a long sigh and leans back into the couch, sliding down. “Jesus, how gaudy.” She doesn’t let go of you. “Hey mommy dearest, I can walk on my own,” you protest. Holding your hand as a leash that she drags down along the school until you arrive at the open front doors. Don leans on the Model T, smoking. She looks back at you and smiles. “You were fabulous, Muffin. I couldn’t have asked for a better performance.” There’s so much you wanted to say but your tongue felt heavy with all the feelings it wanted to express. Instead you decide to let whatever overwhelming feeling comes out of you to dictate what you say without a care. <</if>>\ <hr>\ [[⬨Anger|Page 60][$anger to true]] [[⬨Sorrow|Page 60][$sorrow to true]] [[⬨Numb|Page 60][$numb to true]]

<<if $anger>>\ You wrench your arm from hers. “Adopted? You told her I was ''fucking'' adopted?” “Muffin!” your mother exclaims. “Where the hell did you learn that word from?” You laugh, “classic you! Always focusing on the wrong thing to not have to look at the most important thing because you’re an immature–” Your mother takes a step towards you, “apologize this instant or don’t even think I’m sending you any new clothes for the rest of the year!” You keep laughing, almost maniacally which echo throughout the lobby. Your mother looks nervous as you almost double-over. “Oh the horror! No new clothes! Whatever shall I do! It’s not like my closet can’t fit anymore crap that I don’t need because I have nowhere to wear it to–” “I thought you loved those clothes! I got them because they’re beautiful and I wanted my handsome son to look–” “You always think about what you want have you ever asked me–” “Because you never tell me! You nod and say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ the only time you ever showed character is when I asked you to do this–” “I have character! You would know that if you saw me more than two times–” “Do you think I’m lazing around when I go back?! I work my butt off for me and to make sure you got the life I never h–” “I never asked you! All I wanted was a mother–” “Let’s leave this family screaming session for a head-doctor,” Don interrupts. He glances at your mother, “Mallory. The interview went great, we don’t need a fresh scandal.” You and your mother are poised toward each other, seemingly ready to attack. Your hands mirrored in the way you both clench them into fists. Mallory leans back and pushes a curl out of her eye, she looks at you coldly. “Wait by the car Don, I’ll be there in two shakes.” Don throws you a look and walks back to the car. The only sound in the lobby is your heavy breathing. You feel like tears are ready to spring from your eyes and you blink furiously, refusing to give her that. She searches in her bag for her sunglasses. You can’t see her eyes behind them. “I’m sorry if that’s the way you feel about me, $bio. Maybe I haven’t been the best.” You sniff. Forcing your nails into your palms. “But I’ve tried as best as I could with you. I can’t say you’ve done the same,” she claims, her voice shaky. “Well I guess I don’t know anything about you. Nor you, me,” you say in a voice you wish was stronger. She turns away, and you hear a faint, “you’re right.” She walks away without looking back once. You feel your knees shake and you walk to the stairs. You sit and watch the car speed away. You let out an uneven breath. You admitted it. You acknowledged it. That, all these years, and all she is to you is a stranger. So why does it feel like you’ve lost the only person you’ve ever loved? <<elseif $sorrow>>\ You gently take your arm from hers, “you told her I was adopted.” “Oh, Muffin I was going to tell you but it completely slipped my mind,” she admits. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.” You cross your arms, trying to hide the trembling that’s creeping up your arms. You look at the ground, you can’t look at her. “Why couldn’t you say who I really was? Now everyone will think I was an unwanted child–” “You’re not unwanted, Muffin!” you watch your mother’s red-heeled shoes walk closer to you. “How could you possibly ever think that?” You want to laugh bitterly at the absurdity of her question. “How couldn’t I? Every time you come here it seems like a chore for you. You hate the trees, the town, the school, the smell and maybe even me.” Your mother gasps and she grabs your chin, thrusting your face up. “Ouch!” Your mother’s eyes widen, “sorry.” She lessens her hold, but still keeps your head held high. She makes clear eye contact with you. “What’s all this then? All I’ve given you. If you were unwanted I wouldn’t waste so much money on giving you a stellar life.” You let a tear run down your cheek, “is that what you think being a mother is?” Your mother looks stumped. As if it never occurred to her to question the materialism in which she showered you in. More tears fall liberally from your stinging eyes. “So you’re saying I’m not enough?” she asks, her voice small like a child’s. She’s taller than you, she’s the adult and you’re the one blubbering like a baby… so why do you feel like you have more control in this conversation than her? “No, that’s not the way I want to say it. It sounds–” Your mother lets go of your face and steps back. She looks at you angrily. “Never enough am I? Always something missing!” She starts pacing back and forth. “I work my butt off to be the best. I give my sweat, blood and tears and it still isn’t enough! I get this crap from my directors, that awful Casima looks at me like I’m a hick and the damn paparazzi with those awful photos! And now my son even thinks it too!” “momma?” you ask, reaching out a hand to steady her. “Just listen to what I’m trying to–” “Let’s leave this family snot session for a head-doctor,” Don interrupts. He glances at your mother, “Mallory. The interview went great, we don’t need a fresh scandal.” Mallory stops and pushes a curl out of her eye, she looks at you coldly. “Wait by the car Don, I’ll be there in two shakes.” Don throws you a look and walks back to the car. The only sound in the lobby is your congested breathing. You feel like you’re seconds from bursting into sobs and you don’t want to fall apart like that in front of her. She searches in her bag for her sunglasses. You can’t see her eyes behind them. “I can read a script and memorize it to perfection. I can charm any greasy fat man who wants something more than I wanna give. I guess I can’t be a great actress and also a great mother.” You wipe at your tear-stained mouth. “I don’t want you to be the greatest,” you say in a barely audible voice. But she doesn’t hear you, “but that’s fine. We don’t have to keep pretending, $bio. I think no mother is better than a less than stellar one.” “I guess I don’t know anything about you. Nor you, me,” you wish you could say it louder. She turns away, and you hear a faint, “goodbye, beautiful boy.” She walks away without looking back once. You feel your knees shake and you press your back to the wall, sliding down to the floor. You let out a sob. You admitted it. You acknowledged it. That, all these years, and all she is to you is a stranger. So why does it feel like you’ve lost the only person you’ve ever loved? <<elseif $numb>>\ Your arm feels disconnected from you in her grasp. You let her do what she wishes with it. It’s not as if she’ll care to keep it. She’s yammering on about something that you only mildly listen to. You feel as if you’re wading in water. “Even if she wanted to twist our words we gave her nothing to do it with,” your mother says happily. You don’t care what you said at the beginning of the interview. It’s already slipping from your mind. Your thoughts whirl around one word, one word with 7 letters that have never seemed more awful than they seem now. “And now since it’s all out I can finally take you to California, isn’t that just fab? Ritzy dinners and not have to chow down on whatever passes for decent food here,” she crows. You think you nod. It’s just… your mind feels far away. “Muffin, is everything alright?” You can’t find the correct words to reply. You do say something though, it makes your mother worry even more. She bends down and cups your face, her brown eyes searching. “Was it something you ate? I was told what they were planning for dinner. Yuck! Did it get to you? We could go to the doc’s in town,” she suggests. You manage to pour words from your lips, “I’m swell. A bit pooped. I think I’ll go lie down.” Your voice sounds odd, muted. Your mother’s eyes widen at your gone expression. She nervously clears her throat and stands up. “Well, alright. If you sleep now you won’t be up for dinner with me. After I finish my next movie I’ll come and get you.” You nod slowly and she examines you from top to bottom, trying to pinpoint where the problem is because she doesn’t want to believe she caused it. That wouldn’t fit into the way she views the world. Like a child, she chooses to hope it works itself out. “Be seeing you, my Muffin,” she says and kisses you on the forehead. Her lips don’t trigger your senses. She turns back several times as she goes to the car. One hopeful glance before she slides into the backseat and slams the door shut. You stand there as the car drives, becoming smaller until you can’t see it anymore. You stand there for a very long time with one thought in your head. All these years, and all she is to you is a stranger. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 61]]

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jason. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Easy-peasy!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jason? Everyone knows Medea is the main character.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills!” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jason? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jason. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jason. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jason telling Medea he is marrying someone else. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Macbeth. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Macbeth? Everyone knows Malcolm is the true hero.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macebth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Macbeth? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Macbeth. Your rival Zachary Mills got Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Curculio. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Curculio? Everyone knows Phaedromus is the true hero.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Curculio. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Curculio? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Curculio. Your rival Zachary Mills got Curculio. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jimmy. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jimmy? Everyone knows Peter is the one who starts the plot.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Brother Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jimmy? Everyone knows he only did it because he feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jimmy. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actor.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44]]

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jason. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Alright!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Alright!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. He already gave you this role because you cried to him.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jason. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jason. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jason telling Medea he is marrying someone else. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Brother Clark chose the best man for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zachary. You were very swell up there.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Macbeth. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macebth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. He already gave you this role because you cried to him.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Macbeth. Your rival Zachary Mills got Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Brother Clark chose the best man for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zachary. You were very swell up there.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Curculio. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Curculio. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. He already gave you this role because you cried to him.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Curculio. Your rival Zachary Mills got Curculio. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Brother Clark chose the best man for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zachary. You were very swell up there.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jimmy. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. He already gave you this role because you cried to him.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jimmy. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Brother Clark chose the best man for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zachary. You were very swell up there.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44]]

<<if $ability is 'you have talent'>>\ Of course you do. It’s in your blood. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice'>>\ You knew it was a compliment but not being inherently perfect at it made you feel blue. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?'>>\ You wanted to respond curtly. People ask stupid questions. <</if>>\ You were excited by the play you had been practicing for. It was your favourite play from your favourite genre, <<cycle '$genre' autoselect>><<option 'tragedies'>><<option 'dramas'>><<option 'comedies'>><<option 'musicals'>><</cycle>>. <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Page 43'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Page 43'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Page 43'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Page 43-O1'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Page 43-O1'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Page 43-O1'>> <</if>> <</button>>

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jason. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Jason you have to be a strong.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jason telling Medea he’s marrying someone else. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Jason you have to be a strong and you’re not. Brother Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jason. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jason. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jason telling Medea he is marrying someone else. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Macbeth. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Macbeth you have to be a strong.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jason. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Macebth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Macbeth you have to be a strong and you’re not. Brother Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Macbeth. Your rival Zachary Mills got Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Macbeth contemplating killing the king. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Curculio. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Curculio you have to be meaner.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Curculio. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Curculio you have to be a meaner and you’re not. Brother Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Curculio. Your rival Zachary Mills got Curculio. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Jimmy. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Jimmy you have to be more of a con man.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival, Zachary Mills wasn’t too happy about that. He seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, sir!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Jimmy you have to be a cunning and you’re not. Brother Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look him in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Brother Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Jimmy. Your rival Zachary Mills got Jimmy. You had watched from the front row as Zachary performed the scene of Jimmy speaking to his daughters. “That was very good Zach! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zachary nods and blows at the hair matted on his forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give him a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zachary’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you slip past him, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44]]

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Medea. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea planning her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Medea? No one likes the villains.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Medea. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea planning her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Medea? Everyone knows she only did it because she feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before he can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Medea. Your rival Zahra Mills got Medea. You had watched from the front row as Medea performed the scene of Medea planning her revenge. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zachary calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, she was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating the blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Lady Macbeth? No one loves a villain.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Medea. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Lady Macbeth? Everyone knows she only did it because she feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your rival Zahra Mills got Lady Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating blood on her hands. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, she was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Planesium. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the meeting scene between Phaedromus and Planesium. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Planesium? You don’t even get that many lines.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Planesium. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the meeting scene between Phaedromus and Planesium. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Planesium? Everyone knows she only did it because she feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Planesium. Your rival Zahra Mills got Planesium. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the meeting scene between Phaedromus and Planesium. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, she was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Frankie. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie convincing the Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Frankie? Everyone knows June and her pearls is what starts the plot.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Frankie. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Frankie? Everyone knows she only did it because she feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “at least I’m on the stage. Where will you see the play from? Behind the curtain?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Frankie. Your rival Zahra Mills got Frankie. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the looks she has on her face, friendly although he wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, she was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44*]]

<<if $ability is 'you have talent'>>\ Of course you do. It’s in your blood. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice'>>\ You knew it was a compliment but not being inherently perfect at it made you feel blue. <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?'>>\ You wanted to respond curtly. People ask stupid questions. <</if>>\ You were excited by the play you had been practicing for. It was your favourite play from your favourite genre, <<cycle '$genre' autoselect>><<option 'tragedies'>><<option 'dramas'>><<option 'comedies'>><<option 'musicals'>><</cycle>>. <<button 'Roll the die.'>> <<set $roll to random(1, 6)>> <<if $roll is 1>> <<goto 'Page 43*'>> <<elseif $roll is 2>> <<goto 'Page 43*'>> <<elseif $roll is 3>> <<goto 'Page 43*'>> <<elseif $roll is 4>> <<goto 'Page 43-O1*'>> <<elseif $roll is 5>> <<goto 'Page 43-O1*'>> <<elseif $roll is 6>> <<goto 'Page 43-O1*'>> <</if>> <</button>>

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Medea. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea planning her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Easy-peasy!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Jason? Everyone knows Medea is the main character.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone pretty had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills!” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Medea. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea plotting her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Medea? Everyone knows she only did it because she feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone pretty had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Medea. Your rival Zahra Mills got Medea. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Medea plotting her revenge. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, she was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating the blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Lady Macbeth? Everyone hates a villain.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone pretty had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills!” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Medea. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating the blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Lady Macbeth? Everyone hates the villain.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone handsome had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills!” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your rival Zahra Mills got Lady Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating the blood on her hands. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Planesium. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Planesium? You don’t have many lines.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone pretty had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills!” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Planesium. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Planesium? Everyone knows she only did it because she feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone pretty had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Planesium. Your rival Zahra Mills got Planesium. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, she was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Frankie. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Frankie? Everyone knows June and her pearls are what start the plot.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone pretty had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Frankie. Your rival, Frankie Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You smile, “is that right? Tell that to Sister Clark who thought I was marvelous.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the bee’s knees because you got to play Frankie? Everyone knows she only did it because she feels bad for you.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “well someone pretty had to take the role. We should spare the audience from that mug of yours.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “Lighten up Mills! <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Frankie. Your rival Zahra Mills got Frankie. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You smirk, “the bee’s knees. My self of sense doesn't crumble just because I didn’t get a role in a small production in school. Not like it’s broadway.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “You think you’re the cat’s meow, acting like you’re above it all but I know how annoyed you are that I’m a better actress.” Your smile turns smug as you reply, “and what does that get you? Applause from your parents? How chic.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. Though, he was right. Envy curdled in your stomach. That was your role. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44*]]

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Medea. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea plotting her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Alright!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Sister Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Medea. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea plotting her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Alright!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Sister Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. She already gave you this role because you cried to her.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Medea. Your rival Zahra Mills got Medea. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Medea plotting her revenge. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Sister Clark chose the best woman for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zahra. You were very swell up there.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Sister Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Medea. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Sister Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. She already gave you this role because you cried to her.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your rival Zahra Mills got Lady Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating blood on her hands. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Sister Clark chose the best woman for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zahra. You were very swell up there.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Curculio. Your understudy Zachary Mills seethed as he watched you perform the scene of Curculio tricking the banker. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Brother Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zachary steps in your way. You would hardly call the look he has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Brother Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zachary rolls his eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zachary uncrosses his arms and before he can do anything you walk past him. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Planesium. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Sister Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. She already gave you this role because you cried to her.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Planesium. Your rival Zahra Mills got Planesium. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Sister Clark chose the best woman for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zahra. You were very swell up there.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Frankie. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Sister Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. Everyone thinks you’re the bee’s knees and they treat you with kitty gloves.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if it’s alright with you I’d like to be able to leave now, you said your piece, I listened.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Frankie. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie trying convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “Of course!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “well Sister Clark did’t tell me anything.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t be able to take it. She already gave you this role because you cried to her.” You don’t want a problem so you just nod, “if that’s what you think then there’s nothing left to talk about, can I leave now?” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “Thanks for the advice.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Frankie. Your rival Zahra Mills got Frankie. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. I think Sister Clark chose the best woman for the part and I think our production will be great.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I really I need to go now, Zahra. You were very swell up there.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44*]]

<<if $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Medea. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea planning her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Medea you have to be a strong.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Medea. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Medea plotting her revenge. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls his eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Medea you have to be a strong and you’re not. Sister Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'tragedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Medea. Your rival Zahra Mills got Medea. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Medea plotting her revenge. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zahra uncrosses she arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating the blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Lady Macbeth you have to be a strong.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Lady Macbth hallucinating blood on her hands. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Lady Macbeth you have to be a strong and you’re not. Sister Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'dramas'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Lady Macbeth. Your rival Zahra Mills got Lady Macbeth. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Lady Macbeth hallucinating blood on her hands. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Planesium. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Planesium you have to be more love-struck.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Planesium. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on his face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Planesium you have to be a love-struck and you’re not. Sister Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'comedies'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Planesium. Your rival Zahra Mills got Planesium. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of the lovers' meeting. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ You were casted as the lead role of Frankie. Your understudy Zahra Mills seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie convincing the Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Frankie you have to be more of a fighter.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “I understand you wanted this role and I’m sorry you didn’t get it but that’s not my fault.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Despite how green you are, the director decided to take a chance on you and gave you the lead role of Frankie. Your rival, Zahra Mills wasn’t too happy about that. She seethed as she watched you perform the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good $bio! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. You wipe your brow, the heat of the stage lights make your toga stick to your armpits. “I won’t let you down, Ma'am!” You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, bounding down the stairs of the stage, Zahra steps in your way. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly. “The second last sentence was weak, you couldn’t hear what you said and I was in the front row.” You raise an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice but thank you for the warning it could be disasterous if I mess up that scene.” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Disasterous is letting you have the lead. To play Frankie you have to be a fighter and you’re not. Sister Clark handed you this role.” You sigh and look her in the eyes, “that’s not true. I worked for this role and I admit I have to polish my skills but I can do this and I would appreciate it if you can support me since you are the understudy.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you walk past her. “See you next rehearsal.” <<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?' & $genre is 'musicals'>>\ Sister Clark had pity or faith in you — depending on your mood you switch from one to the other — and gave you the understudy to the lead role of Frankie. Your rival Zahra Mills got Frankie. You had watched from the front row as Zahra performed the scene of Frankie convincing Peter to steal from the safe. “That was very good Zahra! I want similar energy for opening night,” Sister Clark, the director yells from the seats of the theatre. Zahra nods and blows at the hair matted on her forehead. You and your cast-mates pack up your bags, respectively. As you sling your satchel over your shoulder, waiting for the slow person in front of you to move, Zahra calls out to you. You would hardly call the look she has on her face, friendly although she wears a smile. “So, how does it feel to sit here and wish you were up there in my place?” You give her a faint smile, “the bee’s knees. And if you ever need my help, just know that I’m always willing to give it.” Zahra’s mouth downturns. “Stop acting as if it doesn’t bother you that I got your part. I know you’re peeved.” Your chuckle lightheartedly, “I’m really not. Understudy is an important role and I take my job very seriously. No hard feelings from me.” Zahra uncrosses her arms and before she can do anything you slip past her, a smile of satisfaction plastered on your face. “See you later.” <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 44*]]

When you told Olivia what you did she laughed, and complimented your bravery. “You got it!” You raise an eyebrow, “got what?” “You know,” she stares at you admiringly, “the star thing. You could be really famous. You have the face to be.” You consider that, your fork moving around your plate. Could you be famous? Do you want to be? “Do you want this?” Olivia asks, pointing to your mashed potatoes, “I’ve lost my appetite.” You stick out your tongue, “that’s why you’re all skin and bones.” Olivia bumps you playfully and you bump her back. You accidentally push into a grump looking girl and Olive mumbles a sorry. “Could you hurry? I want to show you something I found at the library,” she says in a low voice. “You’ve been spending an awful long time there everyday.” Olive smiles conspiratorily. “You’ll see why soon.” You put small bites of food into your mouth until the Headmistress announces dinner time is over. You deposit your trays and go back to the dorm. You kick off your shoes, while Olivia throws herself on her bed with pushing her shoes off with her feet. You move her legs aside and lay down next to her. [[⬘ Continue|Page 45*]]

<<audio "swing" stop>>\ “So–” “Wait!” Olivia says. She props herself up and looks around the room as if any second Sister Camilla will pop out from under the bed and send you to get your lashings. When she’s made sure it’s safe she reaches over to the space between her bed and the wall, pulling out two books. She lays them face up in front of you and you read the covers. “Lady Chatterley’s Lover and Orlando…,” you pronounce with a furrow in your young brow. You look at your best friend and she nods to the books, “did you know the library has books we aren’t allowed to read? Bad books.” You faintly chuckle, “I’ve heard that some boys at St. Andrews got the ruler for reading something perverted.” “Yes, and I’m sure but I think they’re similar books to ones here,” she taps each book in turn with her long fingernail. You don’t notice that you’re whispering when you ask, “did you read them?” Olivia sheepishly nods and flips through //<<cycle '$book' autoselect>><<option 'Lady Chatterley’s Lover'>><<option 'Orlando'>><</cycle>>//. //Note: if you seek to play as a trans character, choose Orlando first.// [[⬘ Continue|Page 46*]]

<<if $book is 'Lady Chatterley’s Lover'>>\ She grabs //Lady Chatterley’s Lover// and slides it to you. “Why do you think this one is banned?” “Blasphemy?” you venture. Olivia blushes, “you could call it that.” She rolls over and her shoulder presses against yours. She flips open the book and taps on a page. She began to read, her voice soft and ticklish as her lips near your ear. <<elseif $book is 'Orlando'>>\ “This is about a man who turns into a woman and never turns back.” Your eyes widen, “does he do women things?” Olivia bites her lip before responding, “yes. She marries a man.” You inhale and skim through the text. Olivia lays down on her side and watches you. The main character seems to have no qualms about suddenly turning into a woman; but rather it makes his life better than it was. No doubts, no second guesses. It all seems to fall into place as if somewhere in the vast machination of God’s plan he made an error and placed someone in the world where they should not be. No, not error. God doesn’t err. Perhaps it was meant to be this way and one just needed to look within to see the truth. You became aware of your body once more. Ever since your voice has heightened and hair started sprouting in places previously smooth you’ve come to notice your physical appearance in a way that can’t be ignored as it was when things like this didn’t matter as much. You hate the idea that your breasts will continue to grow, that your body will become so distinctly something. Your thighs, smooth and soft The image of yourself within your mind contradicted what you saw in the mirror. //How beautiful men are.// You press the book to your bosom and ask Olivia, “can I read this?” Olivia blinks softly at you. Her eyes hold something there that makes you nervous. Did you speak your thoughts out loud? She grabs //Lady Chatterley’s Lover// and slides it to you. “Why do you think this one is banned?” “Blasphemy?” you venture. Olivia blushes, “you could call it that.” She rolls over and her shoulder presses against yours. She flips open the book and taps on a page. She began to read, her voice soft and ticklish as her lips near your ear. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 47*]]

//“He too had bared the front part of his body and she felt his naked flesh against her as he came into her. For a moment he was still inside her, turgid there and quivering. Then as he began to move, in the sudden helpless orgasm, there awoke in her new strange thrills rippling inside her.”// Your breath hitches and you want to move away from her words but an ironclad weight presses down on you as her reading continues. Her voice is low, almost seductive you would say as if two weren’t friends but long-lost lovers underneath a tree. //“She lay unconscious of the wild little cries she uttered at the last,”// she whispers. Your face grows warm and your throat feels too dry. Words of protest tumble out of your mouth, “Olive we shouldn’t read this. It’s perverted.” You feel her eyes burning a hole into you and you feel something will change if you meet her gaze. Your life is full of far too many unknowns to enjoy plunging into change. Last year a girl named Elissa asked Sister Finch – who teaches health education – exactly how babies were made. Sister Finch went pale and started stuttering. She mentioned how these things were only meant to be spoken about between a man and his wife. Now, you all knew how it happened. But most of you could never imagine getting to that place much less kissing a boy. <<if $kisso>>You had kissed Roger. Nothing ever came of it and neither of you truly wanted anything more than that.<<else>>You had had your first kiss entirely through spin the bottle. It was embarrassing.<</if>> Boys really liked you. They would slip notes under your door for Valentine’s Day. You would get offers to dances and outings. They whispered when you walked by. You didn’t know why at first until some girls – jealous of the attention you got – started calling you Jean Harlow or Clara Bow. Your face is eye-catching it seems. You had <<cycle '$date' autoselect>><<option 'dated some boys but casually. It was fine as long as I conducted myself as a lady. The nuns had told you a woman was not supposed to be so forward for she shall never be clean again'>><<option 'never dated anyone although not for lack of chances'>><</cycle>>. But intercourse? It makes you want to vomit from the anxiety. //“Whilst all her womb was open and soft, and softly clamouring, like a sea anenome under the tide, clamouring for him to come in again and make fulfillment for her.”// “Olive, please stop it!” you yell, your voice getting desperate. But in that act you also look at her without meaning to and the expression in her brown eyes makes your stomach lurch. Then… <<cycle '$gaypanic' autoselect>><<option 'you kiss'>><<option 'you pull away. Fearful of what you feel'>><<option 'you pull away. Certain of your choice'>><</cycle>>. [[⬘ Continue|Page 48*]]

<<if $gaypanic is 'you kiss'>>\ You press your lips together, your noses mushing against each other. Too many teeth and tongues that don’t know how to dance the dance of lovers. The room sounds of kisses. Your hands shake as you cup her face and press her smooth mouth so close to yours it hurts. You feel wetness on your cheeks but Olivia presses a hand to your skin, touching your collarbone and you let her guide you down on her bed, her body over yours. Her hand exploring your hair and arms. She smells of hyacinths. And you feel something warm. Down there. It sends a shot of nervousness throughout your head and before you can tell her that you aren’t ready for whatever this could lead to a loud knock on the door pushes you two apart. Olivia scrambles off of you as you’d pushed and perhaps you did. You practically dive towards your bed in the second before the door is opened and Sister Camilla’s face appears between the crack. She looks from you to Olivia and asks, “routine nightly check. Why are neither of you two in your pyjamas, ladies?” Before either of you could respond she claps her hands, “up, up, up, girls.” You look at Olivia quickly. She avoids your eyes but her cheeks are pink, her curls are unfurling and her uniform is in disarray. Sister Camilla keeps a close eye on you until you come back to the room. It dampens whatever had occurred before she knocked and both of you awkwardly slip into bed and turn towards the wall. <<elseif $gaypanic is 'you pull away. Fearful of what you feel'>>\ You jump up and back away. “I-I t-think I’m going to go take my essay to Sister Beatrice. She said she would help me polish it before I submit it,” you babble. Olivia has a disappointed look in her eyes and he hastens to throw the offending book back into the hiding spot, “oh, that’s just... swell.” She’s not making much sense but the room has grown unbearable so you grab your notebook and rush to the door. You don’t look back as you say, “bye!” You slam the door before you hear a reply. You speed walk down the halls, you don’t even know where you’re going because your essay is perfectly fine. You find yourself in the courtyard and you sit down on the edge of the fountain. You throw your notebook down and put your head in your hands. Thoughts and feelings roar in your mind. //Sinful. Immoral. Perverted. Debauched. Strange. Lust. Desire. Love.// You only notice you’ve cried when you pull your hands away from your face and your palms glisten in the moonlight. <<elseif $gaypanic is 'you pull away. Certain of your choice'>>\ You jump up and back away. “I’m sorry but I just remembered Sister Beatrice expects me to go over my essay,” you blurt out. Olivia has a disappointed look in her eyes and she hastens to throw the offending book back into the hiding spot, “oh, that’s just... swell.” She’s not making much sense but the room has grown unbearable so you grab your notebook and rush to the door. You don’t look back as you say, “bye!” You slam the door before you hear a reply. You speed walk down the halls, it’s true that you had made plans to work on your essay but you had a week to finish it. You just didn’t want to say what you should’ve. You end up aimlessly walking along the corridors, ducking each time you see a teacher. By the time you slip back into your room, Olivia is alseep with her back to you. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 49*]]

You pluck at another leaf. Things had been no less than strained between you and Olivia since then. She’s awake and out of the room before you and you make sure to get back from hanging out with your friends late. Your common friend group is torn in half, each side wondering what happened between you. They think it was a fight and it’s better that way. Your daydreams and reveries can be endless; what stops you from obsessing over the state of your friendship with Olivia is the crunch of gravel under tires. You peek down from the height at which you’re seated to see a familiar car Model T. “Damn,” you murmur and throw your legs over the edge of the balcony. You practically run towards the front doors until you realize how’d it look and slow down. You stop by a mirror and straighten your skirt. You run your fingers through your hair back and pull on your blazer. You take a deep breath and walk down to the lobby of the school. You hear echoes of adult voices before you see them. Sister Sissi shakes hands with the man standing next to your mother. You barely glance at the man, your eyes solely for her. She takes up a room, doesn’t she? Your mother stands in her tall heels, her long fur coat, her curled blonde hair and a gasper in her mouth. Practically blowing smoke in Sister Sissi’s face. <<if $mommafeelings is 'resentful of her'>>\ You resist the urge to run to her and throw your arms around her stomach. She’d probably get embarrassed and even that hypothetical reaction makes you grind your teeth. //You’re her daughter and she cannot//— you don’t finish that thought. <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'sad because of her'>>\ You resist the urge to run to her and throw your arms around her stomach. She’d probably get embarrassed but you wished she didn’t. How’ve you missed her hugs. When was the last time she gave you one? <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'to understand the demands of her job and her youth'>>\ You resist the urge to run to her and throw your arms around her stomach. She’d probably get embarrassed and you know how much she tries with you. At least you can make it easier for her. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 50*]]

You stop in front of the trio and clasp your hands behind your back. “Uh-hemmmm,” you clear your throat noisily. The adults break off their conversation and Mother slightly stoops to air kiss you. “Muffin, why look at you!” she marvels. “Each time I see ya you’ve grown an inch.” She grabs onto the sleeve of the unknown man, “Don, ain’t my girl a real looker?” Don nods and smiles widely at you, “the cat’s meow. She would look gorgeous on film.” Your mother slaps him lightly, “oh, hush you.” Sister Sissi puts a heavy hand on your shoulder and pushes you forward, “$bio, your mother has come a long way to see you. You’re excused for the rest of the day.” This always happened when your mother visited. The school bent over backward to accommodate her demanding schedule. Mother holds out her hand and you gingerly take it. Her fingers are long and thin. Hardly comfortable but she’ll make a fuss. Don follows a few paces behind and when you turn around to look at him he smiles that same wide smile again. There’s something about it that makes you turn away. “How’s school been, Muffin?” Mother asks. You shrug. “It’s alright. I haven’t failed any of my classes yet.” <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ She throws you a stern look, “a little birdie told me that you haven’t been going to that many classes, Muffin.” You rub the back of your neck. Your mother can only hold her expression for a few seconds before she laughs, “like mother like son. I hated school and that’s why I never finished it. I didn’t need it.” “So I don’t need it?” you ask. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ She throws you a proud look, “a little birdie told me you’re always so well-behaved.” You rub the back of your neck. You don’t know why her praise makes you squirm, “you’re a better student than I ever was. I did everything to never go.” “So I don’t need it?” you ask. <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ She throws you a look, “a little birdie told me you’re an ok student but that you can improve.” You rub the back of your neck. You don’t know why but you never know how she takes your actions, “you’re still a better student than I ever was. I id everything to not go.” “So I don’t need it?” you ask. <</if>>\ Your mother doesn’t respond to that, instead she starts going on Casima Wayne. They starred in a movie together about four years ago and it went so bad on the soundstage that they’ve hated each other ever since. Your mother’s convinced she’s the reason she lost this year’s Academy Award. Casima is a good friend of Mary Pickford. “And everyone who’s anyone in Tinseltown knows I’m a much better performer. But they don’t care about the arts anymore. All they care about is who’s rubbing elbows with who,” she complains. She looks at you, “I deserved that award. Dontcha think?” <<if $mommaacting is 'she looks beautiful in pictures and she’s the best actress in the world'>>\ You have no doubt that your mother has the right to be as arrogant as she is, she’s amazing at her job. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'you don’t understand why she’s so famous and you secretly have other actresses who you like more'>>\ The truth is you have never believed she was that good and that hasn’t changed. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'that she leaves you most of the year to do this. It makes you hurt'>>\ You have never bothered to care, all her acting reminds you of is that she’s never there when you need it. <</if>>\ <hr>\ [[⬨“Of course momma.”|Page 51*]] [[⬨“You could win next year.”|Page 51-2*]] [[⬨You just smile faintly|Page 51-1*]]

<<if $mommaacting is 'she looks beautiful in pictures and she’s the best actress in the world'>>\ Maybe it’s bias on your end but you know she has the talent to win. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'you don’t understand why she’s so famous and you secretly have other actresses who you like more'>>\ You lie well. Your mother would be proud of your acting. <<elseif $mommaacting is 'that she leaves you most of the year to do this. It makes you hurt'>>\ The words taste like cement coming from your mouth. <</if>>\ She huffs, and throws her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. She releases your hand to open her hand bag and take out her sunglasses. “Let’s go sit on the bleachers,” she commands. You trail behind her, your eyes attached to her coat. You still hear Don’s heavy footsteps behind you and you speed up to catch up to your mother. She daintily steps up the small stairs and sits on the highest bench. The cheer team is having their afternoon practice. You sit down beside her and squeeze your hands with your thighs. It’s early Spring, and the winter’s dying breaths linger in the air. “Aren’t we going anywhere?” you ask your mother. She opens her small mirror and moves her face from side-to-side, “later. We have reservations at a little Italian joint. I thought we could talk.” You raise an eyebrow. Talking is not something Mallory Skylark does. Your conversations have never gone beyond safe, forgettable topics, and you’re sure she likes that about your mother-daughter relationship. She doesn’t have to do any serious parenting. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, I haven’t done anything anyone else hasn’t done and the brothers exaggerate like hell–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans think showing some collar is a sin.” <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, it’s not like I’m not trying it’s just that students are competitive–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans want everyone to be as boring as them. A B+ is better than any grade I ever got.”” <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behavior, I try to do good but it’s not enough for these–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. You aren’t in school to impress these balding priests.” <</if>>\ You nod in agreement and find yourself relaxing. Thankfully your mother has spared any attempt at moralizing. “Well?” She looks at you for a hard second. <<if $parecido is 'your father'>>“You’ve always looked so much like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<<elseif $parecido is 'her'>>“You used to look so much like me, but now you look like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 52*]]

She never knows how to respond to you when you don’t use your words, she has said it annoys her to no end. It gives you a bit of satisfaction. She huffs, and throws her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. She releases your hand to open her hand bag and take out her sunglasses. “Let’s go sit on the bleachers,” she commands. You trail behind her, your eyes attached to her coat. You still hear Don’s heavy footsteps behind you and you speed up to catch up to your mother. She daintily steps up the small stairs and sits on the highest bench. The cheer team is having their afternoon practice. You sit down beside her and squeeze your hands with your thighs. It’s early Spring, and the winter’s dying breaths linger in the air. “Aren’t we going anywhere?” you ask your mother. She opens her small mirror and moves her face from side-to-side, “later. We have reservations at a little Italian joint. I thought we could talk.” You raise an eyebrow. Talking is not something Mallory Skylark does. Your conversations have never gone beyond safe, forgettable topics, and you’re sure she likes that about your mother-daughter relationship. She doesn’t have to do any serious parenting. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, I haven’t done anything anyone else hasn’t done and the brothers exaggerate like hell–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans think showing some collar is a sin.” <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, it’s not like I’m not trying it’s just that students are competitive–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans want everyone to be as boring as them. A B+ is better than any grade I ever got.”” <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behavior, I try to do good but it’s not enough for these–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. You aren’t in school to impress these balding priests.” <</if>>\ You nod in agreement and find yourself relaxing. Thankfully your mother has spared any attempt at moralizing. “Well?” She looks at you for a hard second. <<if $parecido is 'your father'>>“You’ve always looked so much like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<<elseif $parecido is 'her'>>“You used to look so much like me, but now you look like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 52*]]

You deflect. It’s the only course of action with Mother because unless someone says something strictly negative, she’ll spin ambiguity to a compliment. She huffs, and throws her cigarette on the ground, not bothering to stomp it out. She releases your hand to open her hand bag and take out her sunglasses. “Let’s go sit on the bleachers,” she commands. You trail behind her, your eyes attached to her coat. You still hear Don’s heavy footsteps behind you and you speed up to catch up to your mother. She daintily steps up the small stairs and sits on the highest bench. The cheer team is having their afternoon practice. You sit down beside her and squeeze your hands with your thighs. It’s early Spring, and the winter’s dying breaths linger in the air. “Aren’t we going anywhere?” you ask your mother. She opens her small mirror and moves her face from side-to-side, “later. We have reservations at a little Italian joint. I thought we could talk.” You raise an eyebrow. Talking is not something Mallory Skylark does. Your conversations have never gone beyond safe, forgettable topics, and you’re sure she likes that about your mother-daughter relationship. She doesn’t have to do any serious parenting. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, I haven’t done anything anyone else hasn’t done and the brothers exaggerate like hell–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans think showing some collar is a sin.” <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behaviour, it’s not like I’m not trying it’s just that students are competitive–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. These religious puritans want everyone to be as boring as them. A B+ is better than any grade I ever got.”” <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ You lean forward, your clasped hands dangling, “if it’s about my behavior, I try to do good but it’s not enough for these–” She laughs. A high melody that reminds you of the bluebirds that make their nest outside the trees that surround the school. She shuts her mirror and lowers her sunglasses to really look at you. “Oh Muffin, I don’t care about that. You aren’t in school to impress these balding priests.” <</if>>\ You nod in agreement and find yourself relaxing. Thankfully your mother has spared any attempt at moralizing. “Well?” She looks at you for a hard second. <<if $parecido is 'your father'>>“You’ve always looked so much like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<<elseif $parecido is 'her'>>“You used to look so much like me, but now you look like…” she looks away into the distance. You can’t read what she feels.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 52*]]

Your eyebrows lower, “Mother? Is it something bad? Did you lose a role?” She shakes her head and looks down at her glove-covered hands. If you didn’t know her better you would say she’s feeling shy. No, it’s something else. A close approximation. A Mallory-flavoured feeling. “You’re a smart girl. My very smart girl and you know why you’re in boarding school, don’t you?” she asks, a solemn tone to her words that contrasts with her usual attitude. As if you were a dora. Your mother, a world famous actress who you can’t pass a magazine cart without seeing her dazzling white smile who has never taken you to see where she lives nor even her job. You don’t know her friends, her partners nor even if she has pets. “Because you didn’t have a husband when you had me and because you were very young,” you reply. Her eyes squint and she looks at the cheer girls. Her small mouth has gone rigid and this unpleasantness within her is so foreign to you you don’t know how to respond to it. “I can’t do this,” she whispers. “Don!” Don appears immediately and runs up the stairs almost comically to sit right next to you. You scoot closer to your mother. “Oh, you tell her I just can’t bear it,” your mother says dramatically. Don puts a meaty hand on your shoulder which makes you bend due to its weight. “$bio how do ya feel about cameras?” “Fine.” He nods, “that’s swell, missy. Very swell. Good thing you have the face for it because sometime in the next few weeks your face is going to be in the most important magazines in the country.” Your eyes widen, “huh?” Don clicks his tongue. “Oh, yes. You see Dottie, your mother loves ya. She comes all the way here to see ya and well people have noticed with her being so famous and all. A pesky little reporter by the name of Marissa Culbert. She asked around, tipped some poor gossiper around these parts and now there’s talk of Mallory Skylark’s illegitimate daughter.” You feel… <hr>\ [[⬨Scared|Page 53*][$scared to true]] [[⬨Relief|Page 53*][$relief to true]] [[⬨Annoyed|Page 53*][$annoyed to true]]

<<if $scared>>\ Everyone will know your business. They’ll see your face and call you a bastard and your mother a harlot. The only reason your schoolmates don’t tease you about your lack of father is because you’re liked. But you feel if your name is on the gossip columns, it’ll make it harder for them to restrain themselves. <<elseif $relief>>\ Your parentage and who you are has been a shadow that’s followed you since you’ve had reason. It’s finally over. You can finally stop hiding away as if you’ve committed a sin when you’re paying for something your mother did. <<elseif $annoyed>>\ You have a good life here, people who like you. It’ll all go away when you’re publicly shamed for something that wasn’t even your fault. Your mother thinks of no one but herself. <</if>>\ “Muffin?” your mother pokes you. You look at her. “You’ve been awfully quiet for the last five minutes. Did you hear Don?” You slowly turn to meet Don’s clear blue eyes. “It’s ok, Mal. It’s a lot to take in.” He moves his hand to slide to your other shoulder and now the weight on his entire arm is bearing down on you. “Your mother and I thought of the brilliant idea to have her interview with Marissa at the school and for you to be part of it. That way Marissa and her sharp talons don’t pick at your Momma and say something absurd,” he explains. You stand straight and Don’s arm falls off of you. “WHAT? You want me to do WHAT?” Don throws your mother a look and then laughs awkwardly when he looks back at you, “well shucks. Mal, you can take it from here right? I gotta call to make to Meyer.” Don claps you hard on the back before getting up. Your mouth has fallen open and when you direct your incredulity at your mother she tries to avoid your eyes by applying lipstick. “Muffin, we aren’t asking for the moon. It’s a quick interview and all you have to do is say some nice things about me. I’ll say some nice things about you and then you don’t have to do anything more. If you want we can make a script,” she states with an affected voice. <hr>\ [[⬨“Momma, I don’t want to do this.”|Page 54***][$noi to true]] [[⬨“Momma, I don’t think I can do this.”|Page 54****][$mayi to true]] [[⬨“Momma, I do want to help but…”|Page 54*****][$yesi to true]]

She pauses her lipstick application. “And why is that?” You clasp your hands tightly. “I don’t know how to act like that. I’ll be too nervous and I’ll say something–” Mallory lets out a small chuckle, “you’re my daughter. You’ve seen all my pictures. I know you can do this. Even if you can't, no one can say you’re a liar without proof.” <<if $mommafeelings is 'resentful of her'>>\ “At least you admit it then,” you say under your breath. She narrows her eyes at you, “admit what?” You smile a smile you don’t much feel, “that having me say how great of a mother you are is completely false. That'll have to really be imaginative to make it work.” She throws her lipstick into her bag without shutting it, “if you think you have a bad mother you should’ve met mine.” “I would have to know anything about you to ask–” “Enough $bio,” your mother responds sternly. “I thought we could do this nicely, I was willing to answer questions about you’ve ruined my afternoon. The reporter will be here next week and I want you cooperative and nice.” She stands up and briskly steps down the stairs. She stops when she reaches the bottom and looks back at you, there seems to be a look of apology in her eyes but it passes too quickly for you to see. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'sad because of her'>>\ “I wish I didn’t have to lie, Momma,” you say sullenly. She swipes at her lips, “I misspoke. I meant to say that you’ll just have to gush a bit more about me. Just go on and over about the clothes I got you from Italy last summer.” You let out a sigh. “I just wish we could talk more–” She closes her lipstick tube and puts it in her bag, “we’ll go over the details at dinner, Muffin.” “No, I mean–” “Later, Muffin,” your mother responds sternly. “I’m exhausted and I can’t stomach a heart-to-heart right now. The reporter will be here next week. All you need to remember is to be cooperative and nice.” She stands up, and then pauses. She looks down at you and runs a gentle hand through your hair before briskly passing you.You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $mommafeelings is 'to understand the demands of her job and her youth'>>\ “I’m not trying to be difficult but I think this is too much,” you admit. Your mother rolls her red-colored lips together. “Too much? Too much is acting in front of hundreds of people and having journalists rip apart every aspect of your life. That’s too much. All you have to do is go to school, don’t get into too much trouble and smile.” “Well when you say it like that…,” you reply with a bit of a pout at how childish she makes you out to be. She pushes up her sunglasses. “You’ll do fine, Muffin. But I am awful at comforting people so it’ll see you at dinner, we’ll both be much more fun. And really, your performance is about being cooperative and nice with Mrs. Cuthbert.” She stands up, and then pauses. She looks down at you and runs a gentle hand through your hair before briskly passing you. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 55**]]

“That’s great, Muffin!” She lightly kisses you on the cheek and then wipes it off with her glove-finger, “oh, look at that now the nuns will think you’ve been sinful haha.” “Momma, but–” “And because you’re such a good girl I will answer a question you may have,” she claims and puts her lipstick back in her bag. You forget your protestations immediately. “Question? What kind?” She smiles slyly, “you know what kind.” She folds her hands on her lap, edges her body toward you and arches an eyebrow. You feel out of breath. There’s so many questions you could ask that have been rolling in your head for years. Wishes so deep they hurt. “Only one?” She nods. “Better choose good, Muffin ‘cause I ain’t give you second chances.” <hr>\ [[⬨“Who’s my father?”|Page 55***][$fath to true]] [[⬨“Why didn’t you and my father marry?”|Page 55***][$fath1 to true]] [[⬨“Where is my father?”|Page 55***][$fath2 to true]] [[⬨“Why don’t you like being here?”|Page 55***][$fath3 to true]] [[⬨“Will you ever take me to Los Angeles?”|Page 55***][$fath4 to true]] [[⬨“Will I be famous now?”|Page 55***][$fath5 to true]] [[⬨“Is that man your boyfriend?”|Page 55***][$fath6 to true]]

You run the comb through your hair, the Brilliantine makes your $haircolor hair shine in the daylight. You take a step back from the mirror and sweep your eyes along yourself. Don suggested you should wear your school uniform to give the idea that you’re a proper young lady. <<if $noi>>\ But you still hadn’t let go of the idea that you didn’t want to do this so in a small act of defiance you wore your everyday clothes, the ritzy ones at least. <<elseif $mayi>>\ But you were too nervous to handle having a tight blazer around your chest so you did away with it. Your mother won’t like it but it’s the least she can accept given what you’re doing for her. <<elseif $yesi>>\ And you did as you were told. You want to make this work as quickly as possible so that your mother will be proud of you and that the world doesn’t condemn the circumstances of your birth. <</if>>\ The door opens and Olivia nearly runs into you. She backs away as if you’d lifted your hand to hit her. She looks at you briefly before looking away and going to her bed. This silent treatment was worrying you. Would it always be like this now? “I’m doing an interview today,” you mention in an off-hand manner. She flips through a book, “that’s nice.” You apply some cologne, “it’s with my mother.” “That’s swell,” she replies without looking up. You exhale and throw her a scornful look, “no words of encouragement then?” Olivia is quiet for a moment and then slowly looks up. Her eyes widen when she sees you, “oh…” You swallow. “So… good enough?” She eyes you slowly and you feel like covering up even though you’re completely covered. Her cheeks redden. Finally, she meets your eyes. “You’ll look fantastic in the photos.” Then she smiles fondly at you and you feel like crying. “See you after?” She looks back down at her book, “I’ll be at the library if you want to see me.” There’s a pip in your step as you start walking to the interview. You go over in your head all that your mother told you. How to greet Mrs. Cuthbert, how to sit, how to answer questions. She told you to be nice and cooperative. So you’ve chosen to… <hr>\ [[⬨Be nice and cooperative|Page 56*][$nice to true]] [[⬨Be aloof and succinct |Page 56*][$aloof to true]] [[⬨Be humorous and charming|Page 56*][$humorous to true]]

<<if $fath>>\ She smiles faintly. “I knew that was coming.” She gently moved your hair behind your ear. “I never knew his real name or anything about him. Only what he looked like then.” “Because I remind you of him?” you ask. Her smile turns sad, “all the time.” She looks away and clears her voice, “sorry I can’t give you more but it was so long ago now and it doesn’t really matter. You have me and that’s all you need.” She looks at you as if seeking approval and you just smile back. She runs a hand through your hair and gets up, “I have to go check in at the hotel, I’ll pick you up later.” She stands up and briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath1>>\ She chuckles. “This school has taught you some annoying things.” She gently moved your hair behind your ear. “I was too young, I would’ve needed my father’s permission and I didn’t want to marry and I don’t think he did either.” “But did he say that?” you ask eagerly. “Don’t you think he’d like to marry if you met again now?” Your mother shakes her head, “Muffin, I answered your question. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m pooped. I’ll pick you up later.” She runs a hand through your hair and stands up. She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath2>>\ She sighs. “I don’t know.” She gently moved your hair behind your ear. “I can see you don’t believe me but the last time I saw him was a few days after I found out I was knocked up.” You grimace at the crude way she refers to her pregnancy. “Have you tried looking for him?” Your mother gives you a reproachful look. “Muffin, the deal was that I answered one question and I did, don’t be a cake eater.” You find yourself pouting and your mother laughs, quickly kissing your head. “You do have some of me in there.” She abruptly stands up, “I’ll pick you up tonight.” She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath3>>\ She rubs her forehead. “This place is boring, Muffin. I hate towns and I think nature is disgusting. Cities have always been the place for me.” You can’t help but think that maybe she finds something else boring too. But rather than voice it you merely say, “there’s no cameras here.” She grins, “very true! I feel like a real fish out of water with all the matronly fat mothers. Muffin, if I ever gain fat just kill me.” She quickly kisses your cheek and stands up. She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath4>>\ She takes your hand for a moment. “One day. Now that everyone will know I have a daughter I can take you there. You’ll love it, Muffin. We’ll go to the Brown Derby, stroll down Sunset and ohhh the Sign too!” You feel your lips widen, “really? Can I see where you work?” She agrees. “Oh, Muffin, you'll love the studio lot! So many sets of my movies are still there! And oh, you have to meet Patty Malone! She is one of my favourite scene partners.” You feel excitement form in your chest, you can picture your mother presenting you to all her friends. Pride in her voice as she says you’re her son. She runs a hand through your hair and stands up. “Well that was swell. But I have to go, I’m pooped. I’ll see you for dinner.” She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath5>>\ She laughs. “You’re my daughter, of course you’ll be famous now. But not as famous as me and that’s swell, Muffin. You should finish school and all that jazz.” You scowl and she laughs. “I never finished school, Muffin. But that’s swell because I wasn’t made for sitting in a room and listening to an old man moaning on about things I had no brain for.” You think it’s a bit unfair that you have to endure lecture while she didn’t but you know it’s pointless to argue. She runs a hand through your hair and stands up. “Well that was swell. But I have to go, I’m pooped. I’ll see you for dinner.” She briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <<elseif $fath6>>\ She looks puzzled, “Don? Of course not! He’s far too old and frankly unattractive. I’ll give you a piece of advice, Muffin. Never be with someone who isn’t as beautiful as you are or you’ll suffer.” Your eyebrows knit together, “shouldn’t you love someone because of their soul not what they look like?” Your mother looks at you strangely before snorting. “That’s a nice dream, Muffin. But in the real world no one cares for anyone, especially men. If you’re going to tie yourself to a person at least make sure they’re nice to look at so you can handle all their faults.” She sighs and then gets up. She pats your head and then briskly steps down the stairs. You follow her, turning around and looking behind you to see Mallory walk towards the car. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 55**]]

Headmistress Phillipa agreed to let it all take place in her own private office within the wing of the school that has housed all the headmistresses. When you arrive you hear voices behind the door and you knock firmly. The door swings open and Don’s sweaty face greets you. “$bio! Well, aren’t you a nice looking dame.” <<if $noi>>His eye twitches at your choice of clothing but he says nothing more to you.<<elseif $mayi>>His smile wavers as he zeroes in on your lack of blazer but he says nothing more to you.<<elseif $yesi>>He nods at your immaculate uniform.<</if>> He stands back and gestures for you to come in. He shuts the door behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, “here’s our missing star!” Your mother looks away from the woman currently dapping her cheeks with rouge, “oh, Muffin! C’mon here.” She holds out her hand to you and you go to it. When you pass the long-backed chair you notice another woman sitting in it. She is scribbling on a notepad, her seashell eyeglasses catch your attention for it’s simple wacky contrast to the rest of her that seems so prim and proper. Your mother pulls you down to sit next to her on a rather snug sofa. She moves away from the makeup puff, “Vivi, you think she needs some color to her cheeks?” Vivi looks at you and then shrugs.<<if $skincolor is 'and porcelain skin'>>“The paleness works on her.”<<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more sunkissed'>>“She’s a bit too tan, it’ll look like she’s working for the circus.” You don’t know why but her words make you feel ashamed. <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more brown like a walnut'>>“Her skin is too dark, it’ll look unnatural.” She says it as if the idea is ridiculous, as if someone with your complexion doesn’t deserve it.<</if>> “Swell,” your mother replies. “Muffin, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Marissa Cuthbert. Reporter extraordinaire who has had the courtesy to come all the way here from Los Angeles to speak to you.” Your mother’s voice sounds sickly sweet. Put-on like it did when she would play innocent ingenues earlier in her career. Mrs. Cuthbert must also see through it because she looks up from paper and then looks back down. “This will be quick, I have a plane to catch.” Your mother’s smile tightens. “Alright,” she says between gritted teeth. “Vivi, that’s enough rouge I don’t want to look like I got frostbite.” Vivi retreats to the wall and starts quietly packing up the makeup. Your mother ruffles her curls and grabs your hand, laying it on her lap. Your hand clenches but you don’t move it away. Mrs. Cuthbert clears her throat and leans back into the chair. She by-passes your mother to look straight at you. Her pencil poised on the paper. [[⬘ Continue|Page 57*]]

“You’re $bio Sky $maiden, right?” You nod and your mother squeezes your hand. “I need you to use your words Ms. $maiden,” Mrs. Cuthbert says tiredly. <<if $nice>>\ “Yes, that’s me. It’s very nice to meet you Mrs. Cuthbert and thank you for coming,” you reply. You look at your mother and she smiles at you. It makes you feel warm. Mrs. Cuthbert eyes you and starts writing. “What do you feel about the fact that your mother has neglected her duties of you to live the high-life in Hollywood?” she inquiries monotonly. “I have not neglected–” “I’m asking your daughter Ms. Skylark. We’ll get to you soon,” Mrs. Cuthbert interjects. Your mother looks like she wants to spring but instead she nods and smiles, leaning back into the couch. “Of course.” Mrs. Cuthbert turns to you again, “what is your response to that?” Don stands in behind and he pulls at his mouth to make a grotesque smile. “Um, my mother doesn’t neglect me. She works a lot to provide for me. I’ve been able to go to this great school because of how much she cares for me. I go to bed with a belly full every night because of her hard work. Thank you,” you answer calmly. The reporter looks at you as if you said something predictable — boring even. Nevertheless she writes your response down. “How do you feel about being raised without a father?” Your mother’s hand stiffens and you rub her knuckles. “I would like to meet him but I don’t begrudge my mother. She has been both mother and father to me.” Mrs. Cuthbert makes a ‘hm’ sound in her throat before raising her eyebrows in mockery and writing. “Do you think it is a sign of good parenting to be in such a public, unpredictable, and oftentimes scandalous job that harms the sensibilities of traditional American values?” “Again with that hubbub of moralistic wet-blanket bull–” your mother interjects. “I think,” Don interrupts and places a hand on the back of Mrs. Cuthbert’s chair, “we shouldn’t ask the girl such political questions. She’s just fifteen after all.” Your mother’s nostrils have flared and Mrs. Cuthbert doesn’t even glance at Don. She seems to have a glint in her at watching your mother’s reaction. //She doesn’t like her at all.// “I’ll leave that question to the side then. Mallory,” she moves in her seat so her knees are pointed in your mother’s direction. “Why did you adopt a child at such a precarious moment in your career?” <<elseif $aloof>>\ “Yes,” you reply. You feel your mother’s eyes on you which you promptly ignore. It makes you feel good. Mrs. Cuthbert eyes you and starts writing. “What do you feel about the fact that your mother has neglected her duties of you to live the high-life in Hollywood?” she inquiries monotonly. “I have not neglected–” “I’m asking your daughter Ms. Skylark. We’ll get to you soon,” Mrs. Cuthbert interjects. Your mother looks like she wants to spring but instead she nods and smiles, leaning back into the couch. “Of course.” Mrs. Cuthbert turns to you again, “what is your response to that?” Don stands in behind and he pulls at his mouth to make a grotesque smile. “I’m fine. I can’t complain,” you answer calmly. The reporter looks at you’re the biggest party-pooper this side of the US. She can bite you. Nevertheless she writes your response down. “How do you feel about being raised without a father?” Your mother’s hand stiffens and you try to pull your hand away. “I haven’t really thought about it.” Mrs. Cuthbert makes a ‘hm’ sound in her throat before rolling her eyes and writing. “Do you think it is a sign of good parenting to be in such a public, unpredictable, and oftentimes scandalous job that harms the sensibilities of traditional American values?” “Again with that hubbub of moralistic wet-blanket bull–” your mother interjects. “I think,” Don interrupts and places a hand on the back of Mrs. Cuthbert’s chair, “we shouldn’t ask the boy such political questions. He’s just fifteen after all.” Your mother’s nostrils have flared and Mrs. Cuthbert doesn’t even glance at Don. She seems to have a glint in her at watching your mother’s reaction. //She doesn’t like her at all.// “I’ll leave that question to the side then. Mallory,” she moves in her seat so her knees are pointed in your mother’s direction. “Why did you adopt a child at such a precarious moment in your career?” <<elseif $humorous>>\ “And you’re Marissa Cuthbert, still my beating heart,” you grin and lean over to shake her hand. You look at your mother as if to say ‘see?.’ Her lips quiver. Mrs. Cuthbert eyes you and starts writing. “What do you feel about the fact that your mother has neglected her duties of you to live the high-life in Hollywood?” she inquiries monotonly. “I have not neglected–” “I’m asking your daughter Ms. Skylark. We’ll get to you soon,” Mrs. Cuthbert interjects. Your mother looks like she wants to spring but instead she nods and smiles, leaning back into the couch. “Of course.” Mrs. Cuthbert turns to you again, “what is your response to that?” Don stands in behind and he pulls at his mouth to make a grotesque smile. “So we ain’t easing into it? Now that’s more like that. I will say my mother is a fabulous woman, I mean… who wouldn’t want a famous mother?” you wiggle your eyebrows. “A mother who’s a cook?” you pretend to yawn, “a schoolteacher?” you roll your eyes goodnaturedly. “What a drag. My mother is loved by the nation. I couldn’t be more proud.” The reporter gives you a puzzled look. You didn’t exactly answer her question but your words spin her around until her eyes roll in her noggin’ and she doesn’t know that you said a load of baloney. With hesitance she writes your answer down. “How do you feel about being raised without a father?” Your mother’s hand stiffens and you cover it up by leaning your head on her shoulder. “The only true father I have is the Lord. Wouldn’t you say he’s enough?” You innocently wink at her. Mrs. Cuthbert makes a ‘hm’ sound in her throat before writing that down too. “Do you think it is a sign of good parenting to be in such a public, unpredictable, and oftentimes scandalous job that harms the sensibilities of traditional American values?” “Again with that hubbub of moralistic wet-blanket bull–” your mother interjects. “I think,” Don interrupts and places a hand on the back of Mrs. Cuthbert’s chair, “we shouldn’t ask the girl such political questions. She’s just fifteen after all.” Your mother’s nostrils have flared and Mrs. Cuthbert doesn’t even glance at Don. She seems to have a glint in her at watching your mother’s reaction. //She doesn’t like her at all.// “I’ll leave that question to the side then. Mallory,” she moves in her seat so her knees are pointed in your mother’s direction. “Why did you adopt a child at such a precarious moment in your career?” <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 58*]]

Your blood chills. The hand that’s encased within your mothers seems to lose all feeling. “Precisely because it was a precarious moment, Marissa. My career was going down the chute, I was being accused of debauchery for a role I only acted in. I needed comfort and I had been good friends and patron of St. Agnes’ for a few years as it holds a special place in my heart, as you know this was my mother’s alma mater…” Your eyes flutter as if something is caught within them and your stomach drops. Or perhaps this is simply a feeling of emptiness. You’ve been ripped open and your insides dug in by your mother’s hands to trade in for something more valuable to her. You hear only snippets of what she says but you piece together that her and that slimy agent of her’s must’ve come up with. The idea of inventing that the nuns had taken you in after being abandoned on their doorstep. That your mother in her gloriously magnanimity had taken pity on you and adopted you when you were 5 in 1922. Your brain latches onto the fact that you’re said to be 3 years younger than you are. Your mother’s replies to Mrs. Cuthbert’s answers come in waves. You catch the beginning or the end each time. <<if $skincolor is 'and porcelain skin'>>\ “... your daughter is big for her age, Mallory,” Mrs. Cuthbert comments, eyeing you suspiciously. Your mother smiles sweetly at her, almost flirtatiously as she does with all she meets. “The food at St. Agnes’ of the finest to promote healthy developed girls.” You want to squeeze yourself smaller somehow, you don’t want their eyes prying on your body to see lies. Especially Don’s. <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more sunkissed'>>\ “... your daughter is big for her age and a bit darker Mallory,” Mrs. Cuthbert comments, eyeing you suspiciously. “Don’t you know her ancestry?” Your mother smiles sweetly at her, almost flirtatiously as she does with all she meets. “The food at St. Agnes’ of the finest to promote healthy developed girls. As for her parentage? I hardly know. Perhaps Italian or a gypsy.” You look at your hands, how they contrast with your mother’s pale smooth skin. It’s never been more clear to you how different you are from everyone you know. <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more brown like a walnut'>>\ “... your daughter is big for her age and dark Mallory,” Mrs. Cuthbert comments, eyeing you suspiciously. “Don’t you know her ancestry?” Your mother smiles sweetly at her, almost flirtatiously as she does with all she meets. “The food at St. Agnes’ of the finest to promote healthy developed boys. As for her parentage? I hardly know. Perhaps red Indian or colored.” You look at your hands, how deeply they contrast with your mother’s pale smooth skin. It’s never been more clear to you how different you are from everyone you know. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 59*]]

<<if $nice>>\ “Muffin?” your mother squeezes your hand. You look away from the lamp you had been mindlessly staring at and slowly meet her $eyes eyes. “Mrs. Cuthbert is leaving now. Be a good girl and say goodbye,” she instructs gently. Her eyes seem to want to say something to you, there’s a softness there that looks sad. It takes you great effort to manage a small smile, “it was nice speaking to you Ma’am.” “Take care, $bio,” Mrs. Cuthbert says with a set gravitas to her eyes. “Truly.” You make to stand up but your mother yanks you back down. Her eyes follow Mrs. Cuthbert as she packs her things and Don escorts her to her taxi. When the door shuts behind them your mother lets out a long sigh and leans back into the couch, sliding down. “Jesus, how gaudy.” She doesn’t let go of you. Holding your hand as a leash that she drags down along the school until you arrive at the open front doors. Don leans on the Model T, smoking. She looks back at you and smiles. “You were fabulous, Muffin. I couldn’t have asked for a better performance.” There’s so much you wanted to say but your tongue felt heavy with all the feelings it wanted to express. Instead you decide to let whatever overwhelming feeling comes out of you to dictate what you say without a care. <<elseif $aloof>>\ “Muffin?” your mother squeezes your hand. You look away from the lamp you had been mindlessly staring at and slowly meet her brown eyes. You roughly pull your hand away, safeguarding it in your pocket. “Mrs. Cuthbert is leaving now. Be a good girl and say goodbye,” she instructs gently. Her eyes seem to want to say something to you, there’s a softness there that looks sad. You look at that nosy woman blankly, “farewell.” “Take care, $bio,” Mrs. Cuthbert says with a set gravitas to her eyes. “Truly.” You make to stand up but your mother yanks you back down. Her eyes follow Mrs. Cuthbert as she packs her things and Don escorts her to her taxi. When the door shuts behind them your mother lets out a long sigh and leans back into the couch, sliding down. “Jesus, how gaudy.” You pull her hand off of you and she just latches onto another aspect of you until she has you grabbed by the bicep. She pulls you along, with remarkable strength for such a petite frame against your dragging feet. She ceases her efforts at the open front doors. Don leans on the Model T, smoking. She looks back at you and grimaces. “I asked you to do one thing for me. Just… one,” she lifts a finger, “and what do you do? Act like a rude young lady!” There’s so much you wanted to say but your tongue felt heavy with all the feelings it wanted to express. Instead you decide to let whatever overwhelming feeling comes out of you to dictate what you say without a care. <<elseif $humorous>>\ “Muffin?” your mother squeezes your hand. You look away from the lamp you had been mindlessly staring at and slowly meet her brown eyes. “Mrs. Cuthbert is leaving now. Be a good girl and say goodbye,” she instructs gently. Her eyes seem to want to say something to you, there’s a softness there that looks sad. You shine your pearly whites, “I’m my mother’s daughter so you won’t see the last of me. I’ll help you sell those magazines.” Mrs. Cuthbert sighs while Don at least laughs. “Take care, $bio,” Mrs. Cuthbert says with a set gravitas to her eyes. “Truly.” You make to stand up but your mother yanks you back down. Her eyes follow Mrs. Cuthbert as she packs her things and Don escorts her to her taxi. When the door shuts behind them your mother lets out a long sigh and leans back into the couch, sliding down. “Jesus, how gaudy.” She doesn’t let go of you. “Hey mommy dearest, I can walk on my own,” you protest. Holding your hand as a leash that she drags down along the school until you arrive at the open front doors. Don leans on the Model T, smoking. She looks back at you and smiles. “You were fabulous, Muffin. I couldn’t have asked for a better performance.” There’s so much you wanted to say but your tongue felt heavy with all the feelings it wanted to express. Instead you decide to let whatever overwhelming feeling comes out of you to dictate what you say without a care. <</if>>\ <hr>\ [[⬨Anger|Page 60*][$anger to true]] [[⬨Sorrow|Page 60*][$sorrow to true]] [[⬨Numb|Page 60*][$numb to true]]

<<if $anger>>\ You wrench your arm from hers. “Adopted? You told her I was ''fucking'' adopted?” “Muffin!” your mother exclaims. “Where the hell did you learn that word from?” You laugh, “classic you! Always focusing on the wrong thing to not have to look at the most important thing because you’re an immature–” Your mother takes a step towards you, “apologize this instant or don’t even think I’m sending you any new clothes for the rest of the year!” You keep laughing, almost maniacally which echo throughout the lobby. Your mother looks nervous as you almost double-over. “Oh the horror! No new clothes! Whatever shall I do! It’s not like my closet can’t fit anymore crap that I don’t need because I have nowhere to wear it to–” “I thought you loved those clothes! I got them because they’re beautiful and I wanted my gorgeous daughter to look–” “You always think about what you want have you ever asked me–” “Because you never tell me! You nod and say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ the only time you ever showed character is when I asked you to do this–” “I have character! You would know that if you saw me more than two times–” “Do you think I’m lazing around when I go back?! I work my butt off for me and to make sure you got the life I never h–” “I never asked you! All I wanted was a mother–” “Let’s leave this cst fight for a head-doctor,” Don interrupts. He glances at your mother, “Mallory. The interview went great, we don’t need a fresh scandal.” You and your mother are poised toward each other, seemingly ready to attack. Your hands mirrored in the way you both clench them into fists. Mallory leans back and pushes a curl out of her eye, she looks at you coldly. “Wait by the car Don, I’ll be there in two shakes.” Don throws you a look and walks back to the car. The only sound in the lobby is your heavy breathing. You feel like tears are ready to spring from your eyes and you blink furiously, refusing to give her that. She searches in her bag for her sunglasses. You can’t see her eyes behind them. “I’m sorry if that’s the way you feel about me, $bio. Maybe I haven’t been the best.” You sniff. Forcing your nails into your palms. “But I’ve tried as best as I could with you. I can’t say you’ve done the same,” she claims, her voice shaky. “Well I guess I don’t know anything about you. Nor you, me,” you say in a voice you wish was stronger. She turns away, and you hear a faint, “you’re right.” She walks away without looking back once. You feel your knees shake and you walk to the stairs. You sit and watch the car speed away. You let out an uneven breath. You admitted it. You acknowledged it. That, all these years, and all she is to you is a stranger. So why does it feel like you’ve lost the only person you’ve ever loved? <<elseif $sorrow>>\ You gently take your arm from hers, “you told her I was adopted.” “Oh, Muffin I was going to tell you but it completely slipped my mind,” she admits. “I swear I’ll make it up to you.” You cross your arms, trying to hide the trembling that’s creeping up your arms. You look at the ground, you can’t look at her. “Why couldn’t you say who I really was? Now everyone will think I was an unwanted child–” “You’re not unwanted, Muffin!” you watch your mother’s red-heeled shoes walk closer to you. “How could you possibly ever think that?” You want to laugh bitterly at the absurdity of her question. “How couldn’t I? Every time you come here it seems like a chore for you. You hate the trees, the town, the school, the smell and maybe even me.” Your mother gasps and she grabs your chin, thrusting your face up. “Ouch!” Your mother’s eyes widen, “sorry.” She lessens her hold, but still keeps your head held high. She makes clear eye contact with you. “What’s all this then? All I’ve given you. If you were unwanted I wouldn’t waste so much money on giving you a stellar life.” You let a tear run down your cheek, “is that what you think being a mother is?” Your mother looks stumped. As if it never occurred to her to question the materialism in which she showered you in. More tears fall liberally from your stinging eyes. “So you’re saying I’m not enough?” she asks, her voice small like a child’s. She’s taller than you, she’s the adult and you’re the one blubbering like a baby… so why do you feel like you have more control in this conversation than her? “No, that’s not the way I want to say it. It sounds–” Your mother lets go of your face and steps back. She looks at you angrily. “Never enough am I? Always something missing!” She starts pacing back and forth. “I work my butt off to be the best. I give my sweat, blood and tears and it still isn’t enough! I get this crap from my directors, that awful Casima looks at me like I’m a hick and the damn paparazzi with those awful photos! And now my daughter even thinks it too!” “momma?” you ask, reaching out a hand to steady her. “Just listen to what I’m trying to–” “Let’s leave this cat fight for a head-doctor,” Don interrupts. He glances at your mother, “Mallory. The interview went great, we don’t need a fresh scandal.” Mallory stops and pushes a curl out of her eye, she looks at you coldly. “Wait by the car Don, I’ll be there in two shakes.” Don throws you a look and walks back to the car. The only sound in the lobby is your congested breathing. You feel like you’re seconds from bursting into sobs and you don’t want to fall apart like that in front of her. She searches in her bag for her sunglasses. You can’t see her eyes behind them. “I can read a script and memorize it to perfection. I can charm any greasy fat man who wants something more than I wanna give. I guess I can’t be a great actress and also a great mother.” You wipe at your tear-stained mouth. “I don’t want you to be the greatest,” you say in a barely audible voice. But she doesn’t hear you, “but that’s fine. We don’t have to keep pretending, $bio. I think no mother is better than a less than stellar one.” “I guess I don’t know anything about you. Nor you, me,” you wish you could say it louder. She turns away, and you hear a faint, “goodbye, beautiful girl.” She walks away without looking back once. You feel your knees shake and you press your back to the wall, sliding down to the floor. You let out a sob. You admitted it. You acknowledged it. That, all these years, and all she is to you is a stranger. So why does it feel like you’ve lost the only person you’ve ever loved? <<elseif $numb>>\ Your arm feels disconnected from you in her grasp. You let her do what she wishes with it. It’s not as if she’ll care to keep it. She’s yammering on about something that you only mildly listen to. You feel as if you’re wading in water. “Even if she wanted to twist our words we gave her nothing to do it with,” your mother says happily. You don’t care what you said at the beginning of the interview. It’s already slipping from your mind. Your thoughts whirl around one word, one word with 7 letters that have never seemed more awful than they seem now. “And now since it’s all out I can finally take you to California, isn’t that just fab? Ritzy dinners and not have to chow down on whatever passes for decent food here,” she crows. You think you nod. It’s just… your mind feels far away. “Muffin, is everything alright?” You can’t find the correct words to reply. You do say something though, it makes your mother worry even more. She bends down and cups your face, her brown eyes searching. “Was it something you ate? I was told what they were planning for dinner. Yuck! Did it get to you? We could go to the doc’s in town,” she suggests. You manage to pour words from your lips, “I’m swell. A bit pooped. I think I’ll go lie down.” Your voice sounds odd, muted. Your mother’s eyes widen at your gone expression. She nervously clears her throat and stands up. “Well, alright. If you sleep now you won’t be up for dinner with me. After I finish my next movie I’ll come and get you.” You nod slowly and she examines you from top to bottom, trying to pinpoint where the problem is because she doesn’t want to believe she caused it. That wouldn’t fit into the way she views the world. Like a child, she chooses to hope it works itself out. “Be seeing you, my Muffin,” she says and kisses you on the forehead. Her lips don’t trigger your senses. She turns back several times as she goes to the car. One hopeful glance before she slides into the backseat and slams the door shut. You stand there as the car drives, becoming smaller until you can’t see it anymore. You stand there for a very long time with one thought in your head. All these years, and all she is to you is a stranger. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 61]]

<h2>1930</h2> You had never seen a place so big. Stow has expanded in the last few years due to the tourists who arrive to ski. To accommodate the volume of people in the winter, the theatre was rebuilt, and five more hotels were constructed. But it’s nothing like this. From the photographs, pictures and your mother’s letters, you thought you had an understanding of what this place looked like. How naive you were. Hollywood is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before and nothing like you’ll ever see again, you’re sure. The Model T that retrieved you from the airport glides along smooth, big roads, like driving on water. Palm trees are on the roads for no apparent reason other than aesthetics. Buildings on either end of the streets seem to have their own life while maintaining a sense of symmetry; nothing here is coincidence. You come upon a street called Hollywood Boulevard, and the world around you seems to expand and rise up above. You practically have to bend your head all the way back to glimpse at the tallest building you’ve ever seen with your own two eyes. An American flag sits atop the pole and sways proudly. You’re eyes follow it as you continue down the street. You don’t even have a moment to muse as another attraction comes into view. At first, you can’t make out what it is, although it stands out among the rest for its unique architecture. The entrance is flanked by two tall walls, each with designs you have no for, the main element seems to be in the building further back. [[⬘ Continue|Page 62]]

“Franky? What’s this place?” you ask, pointing. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Franky glances quickly before looking back at the road. “It’s the Chinese theater, Sir.” “The Orient? How cultured,” you comment. You look to your left and quickly scramble to the other side of the car. Franky laughs as you quickly roll down the window. You look back at the tall building across from the theater; its multiple windows make you dizzy. “That?” “The Roosevelt theatre. Many of these buildings you see here Sir are almost brand new. There’s always a part of the city at any given moment that has construction,” he informs. “Is it because of the pictures?” you ask. <<elseif $stars is 'stars'>>\ Franky glances quickly before looking back at the road. “It’s the Chinese theater, Miss.” “The Orient? How cultured,” you comment. You look to your left and quickly scramble to the other side of the car. Franky laughs as you quickly roll down the window. You look back at the tall building across from the theater; its multiple windows make you dizzy. “That?” “The Roosevelt theatre. Many of these buildings you see here Miss are almost brand new. There’s always a part of the city at any given moment that has construction,” he informs. “Is it because of the pictures?” you ask. <</if>>\ He nods, “it’s a booming business. People are coming from all over the country to the city. It’s like a second gold rush.” “Incredible things they do with pictures now. I never thought you could watch with sound before,” you say. You lean out the window, hands gripping the frame, the warm wind blowing your primed hair around. You smile, eyes wide on seeing a place that smells like dreams. You finally understand what they mean when they say something inanimate can have personality. A regular building is somehow made fashionable by its place under the bright sun. There are buildings with geometric patterns of blue, green, red, and gold. Simple cement commercial buildings are elevated with panels of steel, ivory, and exotic beasts. Animated signs show people with sharp edges, long bodies and somehow triangles. You quickly take out your book from your bag. You flip to a page you had bookmarked. //An architectural trend that has swept the United States in major cities is Arts Decoratifs, colloquially known as Art Deco.// [[⬘ Continue|Page 63]]

But it’s not only the structure of the city that traps you. There’s also the people. The men walk the sidewalks with sleek hats perched upon their heads, tailored suits of serious colours and shiny black shoes that rival the thick gold and silver watches adorning their wrists. The women strut on heels of red, black and white in combinations of calf-length tight skirts, pressed blazers, and bias cut dresses. Your mouth nearly falls open when you see a woman wearing pants. The curls remain tight and shiny along with painted mouths and long nails. The children holding the hands of these people are dressed similarly, clearly outfits not meant to be played in. Your wonder at this magical land momentarily dissipates when you see a man slumped by an alley, holding a sign that says, ‘will work for food.’ You don’t know much about numbers, even less about money. You hardly ever see it except when you need it, when you leave school to go to town with your friends. But you do know there was a market crash last year and that things don’t seem to be getting any better. You’re lucky that your life hasn’t changed; your mother’s work is as steady as ever. As for you and your mother? Things have… <hr>\ [[⬨Cooled between you two|Page 64][$cool to true]] [[⬨Returned more or less to normal|Page 64][$normal to true]] [[⬨Gotten worse|Page 64][$bad to true]]

<<if $cool>>\ The letters sent between you two are less frequent than they used to be. She no longer gushes, nor do you hurry to respond. Radio silence is becoming more common. You can tell it hurts her, but she isn’t blameless. A month ago, she mailed you a plane ticket with a short note. //‘I’m nominated for Best Actress, I would love for you to be here, Muffin. Love, momma.’// You decided to come <<cycle '$reason' autoselect>><<option 'because you want to be there for her in a special moment'>><<option 'you wanted to come to Los Angeles'>><<option 'you honestly had nothing better to do and might as well waste her money'>><</cycle>>. “Where did you say Momma lived?” you ask. “Hollywood Hills,” he answers. “Oh,” you say, that name meaning little to you. You look through your book. The car slows down, and Franky starts honking at the cars ahead of him. <<elseif $normal>>\ It’s probably not right. But neither of you wanted to talk about it, and so when she sent you that first letter after your less-than-stellar-goodbye, you replied as if nothing had happened. It must’ve been a relief to her. A month ago, she mailed you a plane ticket with a note. //‘I’m nominated for Best Actress, AGAIN! But this time I have it on good authority I’m going to win!!!!! I would love for you to be here, Muffin. It’ll be the cat’s meow! Love, momma.’// You decided to come <<cycle '$reason' autoselect>><<option 'because you want to be there for her in a special moment'>><<option 'you wanted to come to Los Angeles'>><<option 'you honestly had nothing better to do and might as well waste her money'>><</cycle>>. “Where did you say momma lived?” you ask. “Hollywood Hills,” he answers. “Oh,” you say, that name meaning little to you. You look through your book. The car slows down, and Franky starts honking at the cars ahead of him. <<elseif $bad>>\ The letters have stopped between you two. She did try to write to you, but after you refused to reply, she started sending you postcards to tell you where she is at any given time. Wouldn’t it be a dream come true for her if she let you go? A month ago, she mailed you a plane ticket with a short note. //‘I’m nominated for Best Actress, I would love for you to be here, Muffin. Warmly, Mallory ♡.’// You decided to come <<cycle '$reason' autoselect>><<option 'because you want to be there for her in a special moment'>><<option 'you wanted to come to Los Angeles'>><<option 'you honestly had nothing better to do and might as well waste her money'>><</cycle>>. “Where did you say momma lived?” you ask. “Hollywood Hills,” he answers. “Oh,” you say, that name meaning little to you. You look through your book. The car slows down, and Franky starts honking at the cars ahead of him. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 65]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Sighing, you flip to the front page. Your lips curve as you see the inscription Roger left for you. He gifted this book to you so you could, “not look like a complete fool.” Yesterday, when he hugged you goodbye, he held on tight. So tight that Headmaster Francis pulled him away. Roger’s feelings for you were as honest and clear to you as ever. In public, he would limit his furtive glances and excuses to touch you. And you… <hr>\ [[⬨Returned those feelings (Sexuality: Gay)|Page 66][$gayr to true]] [[⬨Returned those feelings (Sexuality: Bisexual)|Page 66][$bisexualmr to true]] [[⬨Didn’t return those feelings (Sexuality: Gay)|Page 66][$gay to true]] [[⬨Didn’t return those feelings (Sexuality: Bisexual)|Page 66][$bisexualm to true]] [[⬨Didn’t reciprocate (Sexuality: Straight)|Page 66][$straightm to true]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Sighing, you flip to the front page. Your lips curve as you see the inscription Olivia left for you. She gifted this book to you so you could, “know your way around.” Yesterday, when she hugged you goodbye, she held on tight. So tight that Headmistress Phillipa pulled her away. Olivia’s feelings for you were as honest and clear to you as ever. In public, she would limit her furtive glances and excuses to touch you. And you… <hr>\ [[⬨Returned those feelings (Sexuality: Gay)|Page 66][$lesbiano to true]] [[⬨Returned those feelings (Sexuality: Bisexual)|Page 66][$bisexualfo to true]] [[⬨Didn’t return those feelings (Sexuality: Gay)|Page 66][$lesbian to true]] [[⬨Didn’t return those feelings (Sexuality: Bisexual)|Page 66][$bisexualf to true]] [[⬨Didn’t reciprocate (Sexuality: Straight)|Page 66][$straightf to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $gayr>>\ You know how people think of pansies. You and Roger can’t walk hand-in-hand, and all your kisses are in the sanctity of your dorm. Sometimes your thoughts of sin torment you, but you can’t control what you feel. <<elseif $lesbiano>>\ You know how people think of pansies. You and Olivia can’t walk hand-in-hand, and all your kisses are in the sanctity of your dorm. Sometimes your thoughts of sin torment you, but you can’t control what you feel. <<elseif $bisexualm>>\ Although your attraction did go that direction, Roger was your best friend, and the only feelings you could naturally feel for him were platonic. You were still grappling as to your preferences since men and women inspired the same feelings within you. <<elseif $gay>>\ Although your attraction did go that direction, Roger was your best friend, and the only feelings you could naturally feel for him were platonic. He had understood, but that didn’t mean his own feelings had gone away. You kept each other’s secret, you knew what the world did to pansies. <<elseif $lesbian>>\ Although your attraction did go that direction, Olivia was your best friend, and the only feelings you could naturally feel for her were platonic. She had understood, but that didn’t mean her own feelings had gone away. You kept each other’s secret, you knew what the world did to pansies. <<elseif $bisexualf>>\ Although your attraction did go that direction, Olivia was your best friend, and the only feelings you could naturally feel for her were platonic. You were still grappling as to your preferences since men and women inspired the same feelings within you.<<set $bisexual to true>> <<elseif $bisexualmr>>\ You know how people think of pansies. You and Roger can’t walk hand-in-hand, and all your kisses are in the sanctity of your dorm. Sometimes your thoughts of sin torment you, but you can’t control what you feel. Your attraction to women confuses you even more. <<elseif $bisexualfo>>\ You know how people think of pansies. You and Olivia can’t walk hand-in-hand, and all your kisses are in the sanctity of your dorm. Sometimes your thoughts of sin torment you, but you can’t control what you feel. Your attraction to men confuses you even more. <<elseif $straightm>>\ You loved Roger, you truly did, but it was nothing more than familial feelings. You had accepted what he was and guarded his secret as if it were your own. But even if you tried, you only felt feelings of lust and love for women. He had understood but that didn’t mean he could control his own. <<set $straight to true>> <<elseif $straightf>>\ You loved Olivia, you truly did, but it was nothing more than familial feelings. You had accepted what she was and guarded her secret as if it were your own. But even if you tried, you only felt feelings of lust and love for men. She had understood but that didn’t mean she could control her own. <</if>>\ The traffic starts moving again, and you use a handkerchief to wipe your sweating brow. The weather in the East is far more temperate. It feels like an oven here. You lift your armpits to see wet stains on your white buttoned top/blouse. “Shit,” you whisper, aware of swearing in front of your mother’s employee. You’re fairly certain they might’ve had an affair given the way he speaks of her, his voice lined with admiration. “Eyes front, Franky,” you order. Frank tips his head to you. You reach behind you to pull your suitcase onto your lap. You unlatch it and look for something that looks similar to the shirt you’re wearing. A piece of advice your mother hammered into your head was the shame of pit stains. The second was looking fabulous everywhere you went, no matter the occasion. That one you <<cycle '$clothes' autoselect>><<option 'followed to the letter. You love fashion'>><<option 'care little for. Clothes are clothes'>><<option 'are not obsessed but you do like to look put-together'>><</cycle>>. Once you put on a new shirt, you lean back and watch the city pass you by. Its grandeur starts losing a bit of its luster when you realize how long it takes you to get to your mother’s house. Or rather, mansion. [[⬘ Continue|Page 67]]

You’re surprised by the abundance of nature on these solitary roads up the Hills. You see smaller roads that are still unpaved. Homes that you don’t realize are homes until you spot cars, as the trees are left to their own devices to conceal them. Celebrities must value a sense of privacy up here. Admirable, considering how vicious the paparazzi can be. You remember reading the article Mrs. Cuthbert ended up writing: <<if $nice>>//Aching to please to a fault, the Great Mallory Skylark’s adopted child is not as interesting in person as they were when they were shrouded in mystery. Perhaps, if $bio $maiden had been blood-related to Ms. Skylark, they wouldn’t be so mundane.//<<elseif $aloof>>//A rather rude individual, the Great Mallory Skylark’s adopted child is not as charming in person as one would believe given who the mother is. Perhaps, if $bio $maiden had been blood-related to Ms. Skylark, they would have inherited some likability.//<<elseif $humorous>>//An attempt at charisma that falls flat, the Great Mallory Skylark’s adopted child is not as funny as their words would have you believe. Perhaps, if $bio $maiden had been blood-related to Ms. Skylark, they wouldn’t be so desperate.//<</if>> Your classmates talked about that hit piece for weeks. Always behind your back, they either liked you too much or were too scared to say it to your face. Mayhaps, the latter as <<if $Obedient > $Rebellious>>you were not afraid to be upfront about any cruelty encountered by you and to ask for those responsible to kindly stop.<<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient>>you would have the habit of publicly asking whoever said anything about you if they could repeat it to your face and then proceed to get into several skirmishes in defending your honor, and you’ve won most of them.<<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>you glare openly at those who try.<</if>> You were almost falling asleep to the lull of the engine and the fresh breeze caressing your face when the car slowed and turned. You jolt awake and nearly press your face to the window. Iron gates slowly open, and the car drives along slowly into the walled property. The gravel driveway leads the car to a small and frankly unimpressive door. When Franky opens the door to let you out, you ask, “this it?” He laughs at your tone, which appears extremely judgmental. “You’ll see,” he promises. [[⬘ Continue|Page 68]]

Opening the little side door for you, you enter a home of a style that reminds you of Europe, although you’ve never been to the Mediterranean. There’s a staircase in front of you that leads to the second floor with a small balcony overlooking the first floor. The walls are stark white, and the entrances to other rooms are oval in shape. Pieces of art from the Rococo era adorn the walls. A small potted tree droops sadly to the side. “Spanish-Colonial revival, right?” you ask, without looking at Franky. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “I don’t know, Sir, but if you say it, it must be true,” he replies. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “I don’t know, Miss, but if you say it, it must be true,” he replies. <</if>> He walks to the staircase and points at the opening underneath it. “Go through there and keep straight until you see the glass door that takes you outside. That’s where Ms. Skylark usually is.” He climbs the steps with your suitcase. You follow his instructions. The rest of the house—from what you can see—is much the same. The art pieces follow you as you walk along the hallway, which has closed doors on either end. Warm light gives a sense of comfort. The corridor opens into a much larger room. Brown leather couches at one end, brown tiled floors with Persian rugs at the other end. Two big windows illuminate the room. You turn the knob an push open the door. Warm air rustles your clothes, and you step onto the patio. Two glasses stand nearly empty on the table nearest to you. More chairs than this house needs are scattered along the tiles. You walk until you reach the edge of a big, blue pool. A blonde floats along a pink pool float, her hand drifting along the water. “Mother!” Mallory jerks up and takes off her sunglasses. When she sees you standing there, hands on your hips and a squint in your eyes, she screams. “MUFFIN!” She rows quickly towards you. You watch with amusement as she strains to reach you. When her hands touch the tiles, she struggles to get off the float. <hr>\ [[⬨Give her a hand|Page 69][$hand to true]] [[⬨Wait|Page 69][$wait to true]]

<<if $hand>>\ You sigh and hold out a hand to her. She takes it and steps on the solid floor. When she’s upright, you try to let go, but she just pulls you in and kisses your cheek.<<set $Mallory += 1>> <<elseif $wait>>\ You watch passively as she tries not to fall into the water. The float gives out from underneath her, and her lower half falls into the water. She curses and then pushes herself out. When she’s upright, she walks past you to get a towel thrown on the floor. She wraps it around her waist and then turns to you. She kisses your cheek. <</if>>\ She takes a step back and looks at you from head to toe. “You seem… taller?” she phrases it like a question, is she trying to make conversation for conversation’s sake? You look at yourself, “maybe? That’s what happens when you’re still growing.” //And you haven’t seen your child in nearly a year.// “Swell,” she replies. You two look away from each other, not knowing how to continue with pleasantries. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Oh! Greer, come meet my son!” your mother exclaims, waving over someone behind you. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Oh! Greer, come meet my daughter!” your mother exclaims, waving over someone behind you. <</if>>\ You look over your shoulder to see a man, a bit older than you, lounging on a lawn chair. His body oiled slick. A tight red swimming trunk with a white belt hugs his lower half. Your eyes widen at the sight of his tanned chest. You’ve never seen a man this undressed before. When you get to his face, your eyes widen in recognition. How could it not? His face has been everywhere lately. Your eyebrows knit together when you see the red heart-shaped sunglasses on his chiselled face. Strange accessory for a man. Greer props himself up on his elbow and lowers the sunglasses down, peering at you with his stark gray eyes. “I’m taking the sun, darling.” <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “This is my son, I told you he was coming today,” your mother yells without needing to. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “This is my daughter, I told you she was coming today,” your mother yells without needing to. <</if>>\ He looks you up and down, “you didn’t.” “Really? I swear to God I must’ve!” she yells. Greer lays back down, placing his head upon his crossed arms. “You mustn’t swear, darling. The Lord is more catty than I am.” Greer seems not interested in you at all. You look back at your mother. “Nice man,” you say sarcastically. She laughs, “he gets like that when he’s annoyed. He’s great fun at a party.” You look back at the man. They say the pictures lie, but with Greer, you can say he is as every bit as handsome as he looks on camera. You turn to your mother. She’s looking at him with a face that makes you feel uncomfortable. Are they involved? [[⬘ Continue|Page 70]]

Before you can ask her, Franky walks out of the house. He smiles at you, and then his smile drops when he sees your mother, he quickly covers his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, Miss. I thought you had changed already.” Your mother smiles kindly, "don’t be so prudish, Franky. It’s just a swimsuit.” He still dutifully keeps his eyes covered. Your mother gives him a teasing poke and says, “I’ll go change. Settle in, Muffin, the party is hours away.” When your mother passes, Franky lets his hand drop and follows her figure back inside the house. “Franky?” He stares after her even when she goes into a random room. “Franky?” you say, more persistently. “Yes?” he replies, his voice half-there. “Does Greer spend a lot of time here?” you inquire. That makes him snap his attention to the man behind you. He gets a twitch in his eye. “He’s here sometimes.” “Well, that doesn’t answer my question,” you mumble. Franky is still glaring at Greer. You blow out air. There seems to be trouble here that isn’t for you, grown-ups and their things. “FRANKY!” “Coming, Miss!” Franky responds quickly and darts inside. You look around for what to do. You could go inside, ask where your room is and waste the hours away practicing for the new school play. Or… You look at Greer. <hr>\ [[⬨Go to your room|Page 71]] [[⬨Talk to Greer|Page 71*]]

You cross your arms and go back inside the shade. You’re already sweating again. You go to knock on the door of the room your mother entered when you hear voices behind it. You lean in and strain to listen. “… too much,” your mother says. “I think I have reason to all things considered,” Franky replies. “A few bad eggs don’t ruin the box, I can convince him without taking my clothes off,” she says. “I know,” he responds. Then you hear silence, you think perhaps you’re not hearing well when something that sounds suspiciously like a bed creaks, and you lean back and leave. You’ll find your room through intuition. And you do. The room is fairly nice, with white walls, a large bed, a desk, a mirror and an armoire. The white curtains blow in from the open window that looks out onto the hills. Your suitcase is on your bed, and you unlatch it, disorganize your neatly folded clothes, and look for your playbook. Once you find it to you sit down by the desk and flip open to the scene you’ve been working on. <<if $genre is 'tragedies'>>The famous balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet. For some reason, it’s been a bit difficult for you. You can’t seem to get the emotion right.<<elseif $genre is 'dramas'>>It is the scene of Luella and David rekindling their relationship from Black Souls. For some reason, it’s been a bit difficult for you. You can’t seem to get the emotion right.<<elseif $genre is 'comedy'>> It’s the final scene of The Importance of Being Ernest, with many puns needing to be played straight. You don’t know if you manage to sound serious in a way that will make others laugh.<<elseif $genre is 'musical'>> It’s the first official meeting between Billy and Roxie in Chicago. The subject matter is a bit darker than you’ve encountered before, and you have qualms about this role.<</if>> <<if $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice'>>Even so, you practice until the words blur your vision.<<elseif $ability is 'you have talent'>>Even so, you think it’ll be alright, you know how to act.<<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?'>>You had to do a bit of a favour to get this role; everyone knows you’re acting skills are subpar at best.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 72]]

<<audio "fame" loop play>>\ You cross your arms and walk over to the man. His eyes are closed behind his heart sunglasses, and you have to lightly kick his chair for him to open them. He opens one eye and immediately closes it. “I’m too beautiful to be your babysitter, so I’ll be greatly offended if you’ve mistaken me for one, Darling.” <<if $Rebellious is 1>>“I’m not your darling,” you reply.<<elseif $Rebellious is 2>>“I’m not your darling,” you reply.<<elseif $Obedient is 1>>“Please, don’t call me that.”<<elseif $Obedient is 2>>“Please, don’t call me that.”<<elseif $Rebellious & $Obedient is 1>>You sigh in response.<</if>> Greer smirks and lets out a sigh. “You’re not much like your mother, are you?” “I am adopted,” you say. “Of course,” he drawls, unsubtly implying that he knows that story for what it is, a fabrication.<<set $talkg to true>> “You’re Greer Monroe,” you state. “Unless there are other handsome men with gray eyes, soft chestnut hair and an Olympian physique, yes, I am,” he jests. “Well…” He opens one eye and grins when he sees the mocking look on your face. He holds out a hand, “enchanted to meet you.” You hesitate and then take his hand. It’s oily, but you’re surprised to feel callous skin on his palm. “You’re a humble man,” you say. He lays his hand back down on his stomach, “humbleness is for ugly people. If you had the affliction, I would say it’s paradoxical.” <<if $stars is 'star'>>He doesn't seem at all perturbed by the mere fact that you're both of the same sex to proclaim so freely his admiration of your physical appearance. How queer, or are actors so… broad-minded?<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>This is uncharted territory. Men older than you have leered at your physicality, but never have you spoken to one in such a blatant manner on the topic of your beauty.<</if>> You raise an eyebrow, “is that a compliment?” He raises his head and lowers his sunglasses; once more, he looks you up and down. <<if $stars is 'star'>>“How old are you?”<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>“I know one must never ask a lady her age, but I think it’s a must in situations like this.”<</if>> You clasp your hands behind your back, “I’m 16. Why?” He tsks and lays back down, “a little lamb heading for the slaughter. How cliche.” You feel yourself getting irritated. “What is that supposed to mean?” He laughs, “it means that you’re a sight, but I like fuller figures, while my colleagues are not so honorable. I would suggest you don’t wander tonight. Stay by your mother’s skirts, little lamb.” <hr>\ [[You feel pleased at his attention|Page 71-1][$attention to true]] [[You feel annoyed that he’s treating you like a child|Page 71-2][$noatt to true]]

You didn’t know how many people you expected to be here, but from the ruckus outside your door and on the patio, you’re shocked by how all these people can fit into this house. <<audio "momparty" loop play>><<audio "fame" stop>> <<if $stars is 'star'>>You finish putting on your cuff links. The suit your mother got for you is a bit tight around the shoulders, and the shoes didn’t fit at all. Franky had to run to the nearest cobbler to get a bigger size that proved to be a bit too big. The suit was gray, the coat was long and looked better buttoned you found. You place the beige top-hat on your head, making sure not to mess up the Brilliante.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>You clip on your earrings and smooth down the length of your skirt. It’s a cream-colored, long-sleeved, floor-length dress in satin. It’s a size too big for you, so your mother gave you a gold braided belt. The shoes pinch your heels, even though you had told your mother you didn’t want higher heels, she forgot. She tried to lend you her lower heels, but they don’t fit you. Your hair is curled and held back by shiny clips.<</if>> <<if $skincolor is 'and porcelain skin'>>\ When you set out to find your mother, it becomes a bit of an odyssey. You have to elbow past people in tight groups who either can’t hear you or don’t care to. More than once, you get stopped by someone to ask you if you’re so and so’s child. <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more sunkissed'>>\ When you set out to find your mother, it becomes a bit of an odyssey. You have to elbow past people in tight groups who either can’t hear you or don’t care to. More than once, you get stopped by someone handing you their empty cups, telling you they want ‘another one.’ <<elseif $skincolor is 'just a little more brown like a walnut'>>\ When you set out to find your mother, it becomes a bit of an odyssey. You have to elbow past people in tight groups who either can’t hear you or don’t care to. More than once, you get stopped by someone handing you their empty cups, telling you they want ‘another one,’ and to take care of their cars. <</if>>\ There are men and women sitting thigh to thigh or behind to thigh. They whisper conspiratorially, and you even see some kisses. You get caught in a traffic jam in a hallway and your ear ends up pressed to a door in which salacious sounds from a rowdy woman can be heard telling her lover, “give it to me, baby.” Tall bottles are everywhere, and when you sniff one, your nose wrinkles at the strong hooch. At school, you sat through many lectures about the evils of partaking in liquor, which is why Prohibition saved this country from ‘getting lost in perdition,’ but you caught whiff of more than one teacher’s breath and your mother’s too. You know bootlegging exists, but it still surprises you the lengths and things people will go to drink to go over the edge with the rams. You... <hr>\ [[✸ Pour yourself some liquor|Page 73][$bootleg to true]] [[✩ Abstain|Page 73]]

<<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>“If I were older, would you be less honorable?” you venture to ask with a sly smile.<<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>“Thank you for being so responsible and for your advice,” you reply. <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>“Thank you either way,” you reply. <</if>> <<if $gayr>>Green eyes flash in your mind. You’re with someone and you’re dallying with a stranger.<<elseif $lesbiano>>Green eyes flash in your mind. You’re with someone and you’re dallying with a stranger. <<elseif $bisexalmr>>Green eyes flash in your mind. You’re with someone and you’re dallying with a stranger.<<elseif $bisexualfo>>Green eyes flash in your mind. You’re with someone and you’re dallying with a stranger.<<else>>The disapproval your teachers and your upbringing should make you feel unholy for engaging in immoral conversation with this man.<</if>> <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>Instead of making you feel awful, it makes you feel that good feeling of doing something you shouldn’t. And, it’s not as if Greer takes you seriously. Greer shoos you away. But he does smile at your audacity to ask.<<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>It makes your chest twist with something unpleasant. Well, it’s not as if Greer takes you seriously. Greer shoos you away. “Go on, my blood sugar cannot handle so much sweetness.”<<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>It makes your chest twist with something unpleasant and something pleasant. Well, it’s not as if Greer takes you seriously. Greer shoos you away.<</if>> //Greer liked your moxie.// <<set $Ego += 1>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 72]]

<<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ Your hands curl into fists, “can you shut it with the damn nicknames?” Greer raises an eyebrow, “that’s not a nice mouth you have.” “Yes, and I don’t have nice fists either,” you threaten and stalk away to have the last word. Although you almost turn back when you hear him laugh. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ Your hands tense, “stop calling me that, please.” Greer sighs, “it’s that or Darling.” “What about neither?” you ask, stomping your foot. Greer begins laughing, and you huff before walking away. <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ Your hands curl into fists, “can you stop with the nicknames?” Greer raises an eyebrow, “you should be flattered.” “Well I’m not,” you spit and stalk away to have the last word. Although you almost turn back when you hear him laugh. <</if>>\ //You made an impression on Greer.// [[⬘ Continue|Page 72]]

<<if $bootleg>>\ You pour something you don't know the name of into a glass and sip it. You make a face but refuse to look like a baby. <<set $Rebellious += 1>> <<else>>\ You don't want to get in trouble, and drinking doesn't have much appeal to you — at least based on the actions people have when they do drink.<<set $Obedient += 1>> <</if>>\ You squeeze in between the stomachs of two lovers poised as if in a movie scene in front of the door to the pool. The warm night air lets you breathe easier. Groups of stars sit on pool chairs which they have moved to create circles. Fully-clothed peoples swim in the water trying to hold onto their hats. A completely nude woman dives onto a float. You hear a well-known laugh, and look towards the railing that overlooks the trees and a steep hill. Your mother stands with about five other stars that you recognize. But her eyes remain on the man next to her that you don't recognize. You walk over to them and catch the topic of their conversation. “… dustry had to innovate, the public would've been exchanging their Friday nights for Mass,” Greer says. “I don't know about any of yous but I thought my voice was far too melodious not to be heard.” “The Broadway brats always thought they were better than us because they could act and talk AND sing, now we can do it too and for much more money,” a man responds. “Well, I do miss the silent pictures. The diction and accent classes they had me take when my studio went for talkies, what a bore,” your mother complains. You squeeze in the circle, and the woman next to you moves away, looking at the spot on her bare arm where you touched her. She wipes at it with her gloved hand. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>You openly glare at her. You feel your hand tense, and you move to touch her again to irritate her even more.<<if $Obedient > $Rebellious>>You feel ashamed, but you think she should be nicer. You open your mouth to tell her not to be so rude.<</if>> <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Muffin! I didn't notice you had come down. Everyone, this is my adopted son,” your mother says, interrupting your thoughts. The grown-ups' eyes close in on you. Greer gives you a lopsided smile, and the woman next to you looks you directly in the eyes — at least you initially think so — but really she's looking near your eyes. The unknown man next to your mother seems to smirk at you. Not in a particularly friendly way. As if you were an annoying rat that scurried over his meal. “So this is the famous $bio!” he says, and holds out his hand to you. “You are as handsome as a movie star.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Muffin! I didn't notice you had come down. Everyone, this is my adopted daughter,” your mother says, interrupting your thoughts. The grown-ups' eyes close in on you. Greer gives you a lopsided smile, and the woman next to you looks you directly in the eyes — at least you initially think so — but really she's looking near your eyes. The unknown man next to your mother seems to smirk at you. Not in a particularly friendly way. His eyes drag down to your chest, and you cross your arms over them. “So this is the famous $bio!” he says, and holds out his hand to you. “You are more beautiful than your mother said.” <</if>>\ You… <hr>\ [[⬨Take his hand|Page 74]] [[⬨Refuse|Page 74*]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>You clasp his hand, and he grips it firmly. You almost grunt. Before it can get too painful, he releases you. Your mother gives you a grateful smile.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>You clasp his hand, and he grips it firmly. You almost grunt. He then lifts your hand to his mouth and places a wet kiss on it. You almost recoil, but he releases you. Your mother's hand grips her wine glass tightly.<</if>> “I’d like to get back to the topic at hand. Talkies are the future, and wistfully waiting for the past to return is worthless,” the woman with gloves says. Magenta Wey, you saw her last picture. It was a screwball comedy. Your mother’s red mouth twists at the woman’s bluntness. The others laugh awkwardly. The man next to her slips his hand around her waist. “My Maggie, gotta love her!” His ‘Maggie’ seems stiff as she's held by him. “What we should worry about is this new code,” Magenta continues. Greer groans, “ugh, what a wet-blanket. Those poor souls whose only excitement in life is seeing fabulous people make love on screen will now have to get their lite stag products from playing cards.” “What are stag products and what’s the code?” you ask. The adults start laughing, and you feel your ears warm. “It’s nothing, Muffin, just worries about censorship. Thalberg is convinced that there’ll be no need to enforce it. The SRC is there to make it look official, nothing more,” your mother replies. The comments your religious teachers made about lascivious pictures come to mind. Actors and actresses engaging in premarital intercourse, women using vulgar language, childbirth openly displayed and anti-church sentiment. You think… <hr>\ [[⬨Censorship is jake|Page 75]] [[⬨Artistic freedom is important|Page 75*]]

His hand hangs there awkwardly and your mother swiftly loops her arm around his. He gives her a smile. “I’d like to get back to the topic at hand. Talkies are the future, and wistfully waiting for the past to return is worthless,” the woman with gloves says. Magenta Wey, you saw her last picture. It was a screwball comedy. Your mother’s red mouth twists at the woman’s bluntness. The others laugh awkwardly. The man next to her slips his hand around her waist. “My Maggie, gotta love her!” His ‘Maggie’ seems stiff as she's held by him. “What we should worry about is this new code,” Magenta continues. Greer groans, “ugh, what a wet-blanket. Those poor souls whose only excitement in life is seeing fabulous people make love on screen will now have to get their lite stag products from playing cards.” “What are stag products and what’s the code?” you ask. The adults start laughing, and you feel your ears warm. “It’s nothing, Muffin, just worries about censorship. Thalberg is convinced that there’ll be no need to enforce it. The SRC is there to make it look official, nothing more,” your mother replies. The comments your religious teachers made about lascivious pictures come to mind. Actors and actresses engaging in premarital intercourse, women using vulgar language, childbirth openly displayed and anti-church sentiment. You think… <hr>\ [[⬨Censorship is jake|Page 75]] [[⬨Artistic freedom is important|Page 75*]]

Do you voice that opinion? <hr>\ [[✸ Yes|Page 76**]] [[✩ No|Page 76***]]

Do you voice that opinion? <hr>\ [[✸ Yes|Page 76]] [[✩ No|Page 76*]]

How do you formulate your argument?<<set $Rebellious += 1>> <hr>\ [[⬨With humor|Page 77*]] [[⬨With logic|Page 77**-LL]]

You have no real stakes in this debate and the studios will likely find an ingenious way to circumvent the moral outcry. Money makes the world turn, at least that’s what the movies say. "On to more friendly discussions, $bio, have you ever thought about acting?" the man next to your mother says. <<set $Obedient += 1>> <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, "no he hasn't, Barty." <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, "no she hasn't, Barty." <</if>>\ Your mother's tone has an edge of displeasure to it. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Barty smiles at her, "golly. Afraid of competition? And from your son no less, that would be a sight to see." <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Barty smiles at her, "golly. Afraid of competition? And from your daughter no less, that would be a sight to see." <</if>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, "I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My son will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens." <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, "I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My daughter will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens." <</if>>\ "Cheers to that," Greer says and holds up his glass. <<if $bootleg>>You raise yours. Your mother shoots you a look when she sees the hooch in your hand, but rolls her lips in lieu of scolding you.<<else>>You pretend you're holding a glass and fake clink it against theirs.<</if>> The grown-ups begin chatting about rumours of actors, directors, or executives they've heard, and you start looking around out of inertia. Fine things you can see when others don't pay attention to you. For example, how Barty seems to have his hand on your mother's behind, how Magenta inches away from her boyfriend or perhaps husband, or how "Miss Skylark?" Franky comes up to the group. "Yes?" "Someone is on the telephone." Your mother stumbles as she takes a step. Barty grabs her arm and leads her away, she giggles at you, and by the flush of her cheeks, you wager she'll be more of herself tonight. You sigh. Greer slides away, winking at you good-naturedly and heads to the nude woman in the pool. He throws his glass on the tiles, shattering it and throws himself headfirst into the pool. [[⬘ Continue|Page 77]]

How do you formulate your argument?<<set $Rebellious += 1>> <hr>\ [[⬨With humor|Page 77**]] [[⬨With logic|Page 77**-L]]

You have no real stakes in this debate and the SRC will likely find a way to enforce the code as moral decay poisons this industry. Well shall be delivered from evil. "On to more friendly discussions, $bio, have you ever thought about acting?" the man next to your mother says. <<set $Obedient += 1>> <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, "no he hasn't, Barty." <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, "no she hasn't, Barty." <</if>>\ Your mother's tone has an edge of displeasure to it. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Barty smiles at her, "golly. Afraid of competition? And from your son no less, that would be a sight to see." <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Barty smiles at her, "golly. Afraid of competition? And from your daughter no less, that would be a sight to see." <</if>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, "I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My son will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens." <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, "I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My daughter will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens." <</if>>\ "Cheers to that," Greer says and holds up his glass. <<if $bootleg>>You raise yours. Your mother shoots you a look when she sees the hooch in your hand, but rolls her lips in lieu of scolding you.<<else>>You pretend you're holding a glass and fake clink it against theirs.<</if>> The grown-ups begin chatting about rumours of actors, directors, or executives they've heard, and you start looking around out of inertia. Fine things you can see when others don't pay attention to you. For example, how Barty seems to have his hand on your mother's behind, how Magenta inches away from her boyfriend or perhaps husband, or how "Miss Skylark?" Franky comes up to the group. "Yes?" "Someone is on the telephone." Your mother stumbles as she takes a step. Barty grabs her arm and leads her away, she giggles at you, and by the flush of her cheeks, you wager she'll be more of herself tonight. You sigh. Greer slides away, winking at you good-naturedly and heads to the nude woman in the pool. He throws his glass on the tiles, shattering it and throws himself headfirst into the pool. [[⬘ Continue|Page 77]]

“Some things are not meant to be on screen, and some of these directors think they can do whatever and demean their actors without any consequence because they hide under the veil of ‘art,'” you say firmly. Greer snorts. Magenta blinks at you as if you said something that makes no real sense. “That’s what I get for sending him to Catholic school,” your mother jokes. “On to more friendly discussions, $bio, have you ever thought about acting?” the man next to your mother says. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no he hasn’t, Barty.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no she hasn’t, Barty.” <</if>>\ Your mother's tone has an edge of displeasure to it. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your son no less, that would be a sight to see.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your daughter no less, that would be a sight to see.” <</if>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, “I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My son will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, “I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My daughter will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <</if>>\ “Santé,” Greer says and holds up his glass. <<if $bootleg>>You raise yours. Your mother shoots you a look when she sees the hooch in your hand, but rolls her lips in lieu of scolding you.<<else>>You pretend you’re holding a glass and fake clink it against theirs.<</if>> The grown-ups begin chatting about rumours of actors, directors, or executives they’ve heard, and you start looking around out of inertia. Fine things you can see when others don’t pay attention to you. For example, how Barty seems to have his hand on your mother’s behind, how Magenta inches away from her boyfriend or perhaps husband. “Miss Skylark?” Franky comes up to the group. “Yes?” “Someone is on the telephone.” Your mother stumbles as she takes a step. Barty grabs her arm and leads her away, she giggles at you, and by the flush of her cheeks, you wager she’ll be more of herself tonight. You sigh. Greer slides away, winking at you good-naturedly and heads to the nude woman in the pool. He throws his glass on the tiles, shattering it and throws himself headfirst into the pool. [[⬘ Continue|Page 77]]

“We have to think about the poor oldies who go see the pictures, with the way things are going the next picture could very well show a huge weenie. The grannies will be fainting all over the country,” you jest. The others laugh and Magenta manages a small smile. “On to more friendly discussions, $bio, have you ever thought about acting?” the man next to your mother says. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no he hasn’t, Barty.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no she hasn’t, Barty.” <</if>>\ Your mother's tone has an edge of displeasure to it. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your son no less, that would be a sight to see.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your daughter no less, that would be a sight to see.” <</if>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, “I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My son will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, “I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My daughter will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <</if>>\ “Santé,” Greer says and holds up his glass. <<if $bootleg>>You raise yours. Your mother shoots you a look when she sees the hooch in your hand, but rolls her lips in lieu of scolding you.<<else>>You pretend you’re holding a glass and fake clink it against theirs.<</if>> The grown-ups begin chatting about rumours of actors, directors, or executives they’ve heard, and you start looking around out of inertia. Fine things you can see when others don’t pay attention to you. For example, how Barty seems to have his hand on your mother’s behind, how Magenta inches away from her boyfriend or perhaps husband. “Miss Skylark?” Franky comes up to the group. “Yes?” “Someone is on the telephone.” Your mother stumbles as she takes a step. Barty grabs her arm and leads her away, she giggles at you, and by the flush of her cheeks, you wager she’ll be more of herself tonight. You sigh. Greer slides away, winking at you good-naturedly and heads to the nude woman in the pool. He throws his glass on the tiles, shattering it and throws himself headfirst into the pool. [[⬘ Continue|Page 77]]

Yes, there are bad apples in the batch, but the many should not be punished for the actions of the few. This country was built off of freedom and if you can't have that in your own form of expression, what comes next? “These Catholics cry about godliness when they have more children scattered around their parish than I have fingers,” you jest. Greer bursts out laughing. Your mother covers her mouth with her hand. The rest laugh too, except for the women. However, she looks at you with more interest than she initially did. The grown-ups ponder your argument, and no one counters it. You feel delighted. “On to more friendly discussions, $bio, have you ever thought about acting?” the man next to your mother says. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no he hasn’t, Barty.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no she hasn’t, Barty.” <</if>>\ Your mother's tone has an edge of displeasure to it. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your son no less, that would be a sight to see.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your daughter no less, that would be a sight to see.” <</if>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, “I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My son will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, “I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My daughter will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <</if>>\ “Santé,” Greer says and holds up his glass. <<if $bootleg>>You raise yours. Your mother shoots you a look when she sees the hooch in your hand, but rolls her lips in lieu of scolding you.<<else>>You pretend you’re holding a glass and fake clink it against theirs.<</if>> The grown-ups begin chatting about rumours of actors, directors, or executives they’ve heard, and you start looking around out of inertia. Fine things you can see when others don’t pay attention to you. For example, how Barty seems to have his hand on your mother’s behind, or how Magenta inches away from her boyfriend or perhaps husband. “Miss Skylark?” Franky comes up to the group. “Yes?” “Someone is on the telephone.” Your mother stumbles as she takes a step. Barty grabs her arm and leads her away, she giggles at you, and by the flush of her cheeks, you wager she’ll be more of herself tonight. You sigh. Greer slides away, winking at you good-naturedly and heads to the nude woman in the pool. He throws his glass on the tiles, shattering it and throws himself headfirst into the pool. [[⬘ Continue|Page 77]]

“If you let the religion folk seep into pictures, they’ll ask for an inch and take a mile. What’s to stop them from deeming long kisses immoral? Or a married couple sleeping in the same bed together?” you ask, looking at each of them. “They haven’t outright banned it but its in the 'Be Carefuls' part of the code already,” a man — who you realize is the actor who played the lead in //Rio Rita// — says. You tip your head, “as I said.” The grown-ups ponder your argument, and no one counters it. You feel delighted. “On to more friendly discussions, $bio, have you ever thought about acting?” the man next to your mother says. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no he hasn’t, Barty.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother answers immediately, “no she hasn’t, Barty.” <</if>>\ Your mother's tone has an edge of displeasure to it. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your son no less, that would be a sight to see.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Barty smiles at her, “golly. Afraid of competition? And from your daughter no less, that would be a sight to see.” <</if>>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, “I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My son will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your mother chuckles and sips her drink before replying, "I have enough competition to last me a whole career, dear. My daughter will be a true productive member of society, not like us heathens.” <</if>>\ “Santé,” Greer says and holds up his glass. <<if $bootleg>>You raise yours. Your mother shoots you a look when she sees the hooch in your hand, but rolls her lips in lieu of scolding you.<<else>>You pretend you’re holding a glass and fake clink it against theirs.<</if>> The grown-ups begin chatting about rumours of actors, directors, or executives they’ve heard, and you start looking around out of inertia. Fine things you can see when others don’t pay attention to you. For example, how Barty seems to have his hand on your mother’s behind, how Magenta inches away from her boyfriend or perhaps husband. “Miss Skylark?” Franky comes up to the group. “Yes?” “Someone is on the telephone.” Your mother stumbles as she takes a step. Barty grabs her arm and leads her away, she giggles at you, and by the flush of her cheeks, you wager she’ll be more of herself tonight. You sigh. Greer slides away, winking at you good-naturedly and heads to the nude woman in the pool. He throws his glass on the tiles, shattering it and throws himself headfirst into the pool. [[⬘ Continue|Page 77]]

“Maggie I can we sit down and talk?” the man says. Magenta gives him a stony look and slips her hand out of his grasp, “there’s nowhere to sit but the floor, Arnold. If you want to sit, be my guest.” The man sneers at her and whispers something in her ear. She doesn’t react, and he huffs away. The others drift away too, and it’s just you and Magenta. She walks towards the railing and lays her gloved hands on it. You feel as if she wants to be alone, so you take a step back. “You didn’t answer Barty’s question,” she states. That makes you pause. “As to my acting aspirations?” She turns around, her hands still gripping the railing and her blonde curls flying around her face. “Do you act?” “In my school plays.” “Do you feel about acting?” <hr>\ [[⬨Say you like it|Page 78][$like to true]] [[⬨Say that you don't have strong feelings|Page 78]]

<<if $like>>\ “I like it,” you say simply. Magenta tilts her head, her green eyes, once again never truly looking into your eyes. “You like it. There’s hope but it’s not good enough.” You give her a confused look. “And what is enough?” you question. “When you’re on a stage, the crowd in front of you with their eyes entirely focused on you, the words that you didn’t write flowing from your mouth like ambrosia, what does it make you feel?” Your eyebrows bunch together. “I don’t—” Magenta’s gloved fingers rub against each other as if she were about to snap them. “You have no idea, do you? You're a child who stands under bright lights for no deeper reason than because your mother does it?” “You don’t know anything about me,” you respond, feeling fidgety under her eyes. “I don’t. But I do know acting, and to be an actor you have to love it or else go home because this isn’t the place for you,” she states. She doesn’t say it with malice, which is perplexing to you because her words in another’s mouth would be cruel. Is she trying to be nice? You realize you don’t respond. Magenta adjusts the hem of her gloves. “This conversation has run its course, I will now leave.” She waves at you and goes. “Goodbye,” you say politely. She enters the house, her hands up as to not touch anything and you have a feeling she’ll leave with or without her man. //Magenta will remember you.// <<else>>\ Magenta tilts her head, her green eyes, once again never truly looking into your eyes. “You never thought about it. That’s the worst thing you could’ve said. If you had said you hated it at least it meant you had passion for it.” You give her a bemused look. “And what should I have said?” you question. “When you’re on a stage, the crowd in front of you with their eyes entirely focused on you, the words that you didn’t write flowing from your mouth like ambrosia, what does it make you feel?” Your eyebrows bunch together. “I don’t—” Magenta’s gloved fingers rub against each other as if she were about to snap them. “You have no idea, do you? You're a child who stands under bright lights for no deeper reason than because your mother does it?” “You don’t know anything about me," you respond, feeling fidgety under her eyes. “I don’t. But I do know acting, and to be an actor you have to love it or else go home because this isn’t the place for you,” she states. She doesn’t say it with malice, which is perplexing to you because her words in another’s mouth would be cruel. Is she trying to be nice? You realize you don’t respond. Magenta adjusts the hem of her gloves. “This conversation has run its course, I will now leave.” She waves at you and goes. “Goodbye,” you say politely. She enters the house, her hands up as to not touch anything and you have a feeling she’ll leave with or without her man. //Magenta will remember this answer.// <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 79]]

You converse with others. Stars whom you’ve dreamt of meeting since you’ve seen their pictures. Directors who tell you that your face was made to be filmed and others who touch your arms, the small of your back or unashamedly invite you to spend the night with them in one of the rooms of the house. They care little that because of your mother’s lie, you are supposed to be 13 years old. They whisper dirty words and propositions in your ears, their tangy liquor breaths making your lunch turn in your stomach. <<if $talkg>>You remember what Greer had told you. You didn’t quite understand until this moment what he meant. Some of these people are double your age or have spouses and children you’ve read about in Photoplay.<<else>>Some of these people are double your age or have spouses and children you’ve read about in Photoplay.<</if>> It is not uncommon. Many of the actresses here are married to men old enough to be their fathers. Those men maybe other actors or studio heads. No one much cares about differences in ages and you <<cycle '$inap' autoselect>><<option 'have never cared either. If it is the way of things it must be fine'>><<option 'have never cared either until this moment. You cannot explain it but it feels wrong that these much older people are attempting to engage you in a sexual manner'>><</cycle>>. When a particular man is trying to entice you to take a drive with him, you hear the unmistakable voice of your mother. “$bio!” <<cycle '$cockblock' autoselect>><<option 'Thankful for the reprieve, you slip away and follow the sound of her voice.'>><<option 'Slighty miffed that she interrupted your fun. You slip away and follow the sound of her voice'>><</cycle>>. “$bio!” she screeches. You push past people who have stopped their socialization to look in her direction. You come join the crowd surrounding her, all of them stepping away. Those inside the house also look at her from the windows. Some press their faces to the glass to witness her swaying. Her bare feet tip-tap on the tiles. A strap has slipped from her shoulder, exposing more of her breast. Her hair, always perfectly arranged, is haphazardly dangling down her head. She sees you and waves you over. “$bio!” she says jovially. She hiccups, “I cameeeeeee to seeeeee that nun of thesseeee bastardssss were being—” she hiccups again, “slyyyy with youuuuuuuuuuuu.” Oh, golly. [[⬘ Continue|Page 80]]

She holds up a shard of glass that looks like the end of her wine glass stem. She sweeps it menacingly at the crowd, “don’ttttttt touccchhhh my babbyyyyy. I wwarrrrrnnnnnn ya’lllllllll.” She stumbles, dropping her makeshift weapon and Franky hurries to catch her. She leans on him and sighs contently. The crowd looks on for a second more before going back to talking, gossiping or scheming. Franky throws your mother’s limp arm, he looks incredibly worried. He wipes at your mother's eyeliner-stained cheeks. He looks up and notices you. Franky tries to smile and says, “your mother is a bit… blue. She insisted on coming and looking for you so I promised her I would. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, there were a few drunkards I had to escort to their cars. I thought she would be asleep in her room.” Franky hoists your mother in his arms. He looks at you, “coming?” <hr>\ [[⬨Go with them|Page 81]] [[⬨Stay and enjoy the party|Page 81*]]

You follow Franky up to your mother’s room. You take off your shoes to not dirty the white carpet. Franky lays her gently on the silk sheets, tucking her in as she groans intelligible words. “What happened?” you ask. Franky pours a pitcher of water into a glass by the nightstand. “She didn’t win.” “But the awards aren’t until tomorrow, no?” He gives you a friendly smile, which manages not to be patronizing. “There are ways to know beforehand. Mary Pickford is going to win, who, through badmouthing by Casima Wayne, doesn’t hold Miss Skylark in high regard.” You rub your eye. “That will do it.” You come up and sit on the bed, lying your back against the headboard and stretching your legs out. Franky looks down at your mouth with eyes so filled with worry that it makes you feel as if you’re intruding. She'd call you a wet-blanket, but you don't like to imagine your mother being romantic with other men. When he gently moves a curl away from her cheek, you clear your throat, “I can stay here with her.” <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Are you sure, Sir?” he says. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Are you sure, Miss?” he says. <</if>>\ “That’s why I’m here,” you reply. Franky gives you a soft smile, “thank you.” As if it cost him more and mattered to him more than it does to you. Mayhaps it does. He gently closes the door behind him, and you turn over to look at your mother. Her eyes are closed, but her mouth is open, stained with her lipstick and reeking of wine. She grumbles and rolls over, laying her head on your stomach and throwing an arm around your waist. Your hands come up to your chest, closed into fists. She mumbles something. “What?” you ask softly. She mumbles it again, and you bend your head down. “What did you say?” //“It’s never enough, Cor.”// You exhale and lean your head back against the headboard. She clutches you, and you feel her body get shaken by sobs. “Am I a goodddd a-actress, Muffin?” she asks. “momma—” “I have to be I have to be because it’s been my life! It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good for. I don’t know how to be a woman, I don’t know how to be a mother, I don’t know how to be a wife or a lover, but I need to know how to act,” she whispers quickly as the tears stain your clothes. “If not that, then I'm nothing.” You… <hr>\ [[⬨Caress her hair|Page 82][$comfortm to true]] [[⬨Just let her cry|Page 82][$cryy to true]]

“I'll come up soon,” you respond. Franky nods and carries your mother inside. You look around, your cheeks burning in shame. But everyone else seems to have forgotten it as quickly as your mother's outburst had lasted. You get engaged in conversation as easily as before. Someone blows smoke of a substance that smells awfully foul, and you feel your head spin. You think you drink things handed to you. <<if $bootleg>>And they taste better than the first drink you had tonight.<<else>>Even though you hadn't wanted to, your principles lessen with the gentle hand of the night.<</if>> //SA warning: the first choice can lead to a sexual encounter between your character and someone older. Player discretion is advised.// <hr>\ [[⬨You end up petting with a stranger|Page 82*][$pettt to true]] [[⬨You end up drinking so much you feel sick|Page 82*][$sickk to true]]

<<if $comfortm>>\ You gently run your hand through her matted blonde curls. Her body is still racked with cries, but she speaks no more. <<set $Mallory += 1>> <<elseif $cryy>>\ You figure nothing you do will help so you just let her tire herself out. <</if>>\ When you open your eyes again, daylight streams through the window. You wipe your drooling mouth and slip from under your mother’s embrace. You run your hands through your tangled hair and leave your mother peacefully sleeping. When you open the door, a person falls in, snoring. You have to step over many fallen bodies. People in all manner of disarray — titans of the screen you’ve adored — litter the couches, chairs and floors stripped of their glamour. The night is over, and Cinderella’s carriage has turned into a pumpkin. The morning sun is just coming up, and you shield your eyes. People snore with bottles clutched to their chest in the pool. Clothes float along in a water dance. The sound from the gramophone skips. You go to the railing and look at the city below. [[⬘ Continue|Page 83]]

<<if $pettt>>\ Is your lover a man or woman? <hr>\ [[⬨Man|Page 82**][$manl to true]] [[⬨Woman|Page 82**-W][$womanl to true]] <<elseif $sickk>>\ You pour out your soul into the toilet bowl. You retch until your throat aches and tears spring from your eyes. You lay your cheek on the rim and breathe in and out. Knocks pound on the door, but you feel too weak to answer it. You end up falling asleep on the floor, using the rug to wrap yourself in. When you awake, the stench of vomit makes you gag. You look at your stained clothes and put on a robe hanging by the hooks. When you open the door, a person falls in, snoring. You have to step over many fallen bodies. People in all manner of disarray — titans of the screen you've adored — litter the couches, chairs and floors stripped of their glamour. The night is over, and Cinderella’s carriage has turned into a pumpkin. The morning sun is just coming up, and you shield your eyes. People snore with bottles clutched to their chest in the pool. Clothes float along in a water dance. The sound from the gramophone skips. You go to the railing and look at the city below. [[⬘ Continue|Page 83]] <</if>>\

You're led by the hand to a room you hadn’t seen before by a much older man. You lie down and let your clothes be discarded by urgent hands. You watch with lazy eyes as your lover bares his naked flesh to you. You’ve never done this before, and so he guides you. Placing your hands there, caressing you in places you’ve only ever touched yourself. You’re so nervous about the act itself that you don’t take time to see how much you enjoy it. You just hope to not make a fool of yourself. When he takes away your innocence, it is painful, and you ask him to slow himself. When he does, the pain lessens to an invasive feeling that does not amount to pleasure. It lasts forever, and also not long enough. He rolls over and falls asleep next to you. You wrap yourself in the covers and sleep. When you awake the next day, your nighttime lover is long gone. A small note of thanks is all that's left. //Thanks for the lovely experience, doll.// You search in the closet for a robe and leave the room. When you open the door, a person falls in, snoring. You have to step over many fallen bodies. People in all manner of disarray — titans of the screen you’ve adored — litter the couches, chairs and floors stripped of their glamour. The night is over, and Cinderella’s carriage has turned into a pumpkin. The morning sun is just coming up, and you shield your eyes. People snore with bottles clutched to their chest in the pool. Clothes float along in a water dance. The sound from the gramophone skips. You go to the railing and look at the city below. You thought you would feel different after losing your virginity, but you feel little. Perhaps it’s the shock of it all. Why did you do it? <hr>\ [[⬨To know what it would feel like|Page 83][$feell to true]] [[⬨To forget|Page 83][$forgett to true]]

You’re led by the hand to a room you hadn’t seen before by a much older woman. You lie down and let your clothes be discarded by urgent hands. You watch with lazy eyes as your lover bares her naked flesh to you. You’ve never done this before, and so she guides you. Placing your hands there, caressing you in places you’ve only ever touched yourself. You’re so nervous about the act itself that you don’t take time to see how much you enjoy it. You just hope to not make a fool of yourself. <<if $stars is 'star'>>When she takes away your innocence, it is uncomfortable, and you slow down, trying to reach a semblance of pleasure that never comes.<<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>When she takes away your innocence, it is slightly painful, and you ask her to slow down, trying to feel a semblance of pleasure that never comes.<</if>> It lasts forever, and also not long enough. She rolls over and falls asleep next to you. You wrap yourself in the covers and sleep. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ When you awake the next day, your nighttime lover is long gone. A small note of thanks is all that’s left. //Thanks for the time, sweetie.// <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ When you awake the next day, your nighttime lover is long gone. A small note of thanks is all that’s left. //Thanks for the time, sweetie.// The words of the nuns circle around your brain. //A woman must only give herself to her husband, any other instance of dalliances is condemned by God.// <</if>> You search in the closet for a robe and leave the room. When you open the door, a person falls in, snoring. You have to step over many fallen bodies. People in all manner of disarray — titans of the screen you’ve adored — litter the couches, chairs and floors stripped of their glamour. The night is over, and Cinderella’s carriage has turned into a pumpkin. The morning sun is just coming up, and you shield your eyes. People snore with bottles clutched to their chest in the pool. Clothes float along in a water dance. The sound from the gramophone skips. You go to the railing and look at the city below. You thought you would feel different after losing your virginity, but you feel little. Perhaps it’s the shock of it all. Why did you do it? <hr>\ [[⬨To know what it would feel like|Page 83][$feell to true]] [[⬨To forget|Page 83][$forgett to true]]

<<audio "momparty" stop>>\ <<if $feell>>\ It felt different from how it was described in novels and movies. You find the telephone and ask the operator to make a long-distance call. When you ask your teacher to rouse your best friend, it takes so long that you have to hang up and call back. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “What is this ungodly hour that you call me, slick?” Roger asks with a yawn. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “I’m sorry it took so long, I didn’t think you’d call so early, Dottie,” Olivia says with a yawn. <</if>> “Didn’t you want to hear about the party?” you ask. As you explain to your friend the details of your first Hollywood party, you look around at the bodies that start picking themselves up from their sleep of debauchery. “So what do you think of it all?” You reply automatically.... <<elseif $forgett>>\ To forget your mother’s outburst, to forget how out of your depth you were here, to forget everything for just a moment. You find the telephone and ask the operator to make a long-distance call. When you ask your teacher to rouse your best friend, it takes so long that you have to hang up and call back. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “What is this ungodly hour that you call me, slick?” Roger asks with a yawn. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “I’m sorry it took so long, I didn't think you’d call so early, Dottie,” Olivia says with a yawn. <</if>> “Didn’t you want to hear about the party?” you ask. As you explain to your friend the details of your first Hollywood party, you look around at the bodies that start picking themselves up from their sleep of debauchery. “So what do you think of it all?” You reply automatically... <<elseif $sickkk>>\ You find the telephone and ask the operator to make a long-distance call. When you ask your teacher to rouse your best friend, it takes so long that you have to hang up and call back. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “What is this ungodly hour that you call me, slick?” Roger asks with a yawn. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “I’m sorry it took so long, I didn't think you’d call so early, Dottie,” Olivia says with a yawn. <</if>> “Didn’t you want to hear about the party?” you ask. As you explain to your friend the details of your first Hollywood party, you look around at the bodies that start picking themselves up from their sleep of debauchery. “So what do you think of it all?” You reply automatically... <<elseif $comfort>>\ You find the telephone and ask the operator to make a long-distance call. When you ask your teacher to rouse your best friend, it takes so long that you have to hang up and call back. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “What is this ungodly hour that you call me, slick?” Roger asks with a yawn. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “I’m sorry it took so long, I didn't think you’d call so early, Dottie,” Olivia says with a yawn. <</if>> “Didn’t you want to hear about the party?” you ask. As you explain to your friend the details of your first Hollywood party, you look around at the bodies that start picking themselves up from their sleep of debauchery. “So what do you think of it all?” You reply automatically... <<elseif $cryy>>\ You find the telephone and ask the operator to make a long-distance call. When you ask your teacher to rouse your best friend, it takes so long that you have to hang up and call back. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “What is this ungodly hour that you call me, slick?” Roger asks with a yawn. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “I’m sorry it took so long, I didn't think you’d call so early, Dottie,” Olivia says with a yawn. <</if>> “Didn’t you want to hear about the party?” you ask. As you explain to your friend the details of your first Hollywood party, you look around at the bodies that start picking themselves up from their sleep of debauchery. “So what do you think of it all?” You reply automatically... <</if>>\ <hr>\ [[⬨“Dirty.”|Page 84]] [[⬨“Immoral.”|Page 84]] [[⬨“Fun.”|Page 84]] [[⬨“Sexy.”|Page 84]]

<h2>1932</h2> <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ You tug on your skin and push your tongue under your cheek to puff it up. “Damn it,” you curse. “What?” You watch the scarlet dot burst on your cheek and you press your finger on it. “I nicked myself.” Roger throws his comic to the side and comes up behind you. He takes the blade from you, “want me to do it?” “I don’t want to be full of scars on Saturday,” you say. Roger rolls his eyes, “ha, ha, ha, incredibly funny. It happened 3 years ago. When are you gonna let it go?” “I’ll be speaking about it at your funeral,” you joke. Roger grabs your face and tilts it up, he slides the blade along your jaw. “Remember how much we wanted to leave school? And now it’s finally happening!” he exclaims. “What the heck are we going to do now, slick?” <hr>\ [[⬨ You know what you want|Page 85][$know to true]] [[⬨ You have no idea what to do|Page 85][$notk to true]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ You press the nail clipper down on your big toe and winch. “Damnit,” you curse. “Yes?” You rub your toe, a small line of blood forms at the top of the nail bed. “I cut too much of the nail.” Olive finishes spraying her neck with her perfume and sits down next to you. Her head tilts, “it’s not so bad, you’ll be wearing closed shoes in any case.” You click your tongue and lower your leg, handing her the clipper. She slips it into her toiletry bag and looks at your hair. “Can I play with your hair?” You groan, “you always want to do that.” Olivia smiles and scoots behind you, taking your long strands in her hands. You let her work her magic. “I can’t believe it’s almost Saturday. Then we’re officially adults. What are we going to do outside in that big world, Dottie?” <hr>\ [[⬨You know what you want|Page 85*][$know to true]] [[⬨You have no idea what to do|Page 85*][$notk to true]] <</if>>

<a data-passage="Characters">Characters</a> <a data-passage="Glossary">Glossary</a> <a data-passage="Historical Facts">Historical Facts</a>  <<link "Dark Mode Toggle">> <<script>> var darkModeEnabled = document.documentElement.classList.toggle("darkMode"); <</script>> <</link>>

<h1>Ensemble</h1> //Ages as of Chapter 2// Greer Monroe: 29 years old and a leading man for several years. Flirty, irreverent, and nice. Magenta Wey: 30 years old and a well-known leading lady. Serious, dedicated, and anal. Ashley Booker: 32 years old and a imaginative director. Determined, eccentric and aloof. Mallory Skylark: 12 years older than her child. Legendary actress but with crippling personal issues.

<h1>Glossary</h1> BIG HOUSE – JAIL CAT’S PYJAMAS, CAT’S MEOW, BEES KNEES – great, cool, stylish, good DORA – SOMEONE DUMB GASPER – CIGARETTE GAMS- LEGS THE FUZZ – POLICE HOT – STOLEN JAKE – WHEN SOMETHING’S COOL JAM – TROUBLE KISSER – MOUTH PEEPERS – EYES PICTURE - FILM ROSCOE/HEATER – GUN SHEIK – ATTRACTIVE MAN

<h1>Historical Facts</h1> There’s constant debate over what was the first film ever made. Some consider it to be //The Horse in Motion// (1878), while other’s consider //A Trip to the Moon// (1902) the first true feature film ever made. To learn more: https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/what-was-the-first-movie-ever-made/ Hollywood officially became part of Los Angeles in 1910. Movies began to be made between 1905-1910 in California and the first studio was created in 1911. The Roaring Twenties created the idea of a Movie Star, a new job that had never been seen before. Silent Films reigned supreme from the 1910s until 1927 when the first sound film //The Jazz Singer// was released. These new films were called 'Talkies.' Studios swiftly converted to sound which took away the jobs of many actors and actresses who didn't have the right voice for sound. To learn more: https://www.britannica.com/place/Hollywood-California https://historycooperative.org/the-history-of-the-hollywood-movie-industry/ Actors and actresses signed contracts with studios that would last years, getting out of these contracts was difficult. Under the thumb of these studios, their lives were managed from who they dated, to children and public behaviour. The average leading man was a decade older than the average leading lady. In 1930, roughly 20% of actors were women and nearly 0% were producers and directors. To learn more: https://www.harpersbazaar.com/culture/film-tv/g31916339/old-hollywood-star-rules/ https://onlineacademiccommunity.uvic.ca/outcaltl/statistics-overview-on-gender-bias-and-age-discrimination-in-hollywood/ https://news.northwestern.edu/stories/2020/03/golden-age-of-hollywood-was-not-so-golden-for-women/ Minorities were often relegated to background roles that sought to make caricatures of them or place them in servile roles. If a character in a more prominent role was meant to be black they would usually have white actors in black face. More than 6,000 black actors were working in Hollywood in 1926. Black actors were given roles that many times posed a risk to their lives as they had to do their own stunts. The first African American to win an Oscar was Hattie McDaniel in 1940, the venue was banned tp black people but she was allowed to attend although made to sit in a segregated area. Actors who were mixed tried very hard to pass as white to overcome the barriers the industry had for overtly non-white performers. They would bleach their skin, get cosmetic surgery for their more non-European features and dye their hair. They were made to deny their true ethnicity and change their names to become more 'Americanized.' To learn more: https://www-jstor-org.lib-ezproxy.concordia.ca/stable/3815293?seq=4 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hattie_McDaniel#Reception_and_1939_Academy_Awards https://goldenglobes.com/articles/forgotten-hollywood-merle-oberon-and-her-lifelong-secret/ https://daily.jstor.org/the-making-of-rita-hayworth/ https://www.filmcomment.com/blog/hiding-in-plain-sight-merle-oberon-mayukh-sen/

<<if $know & $stars is 'star'>>\ When you first joined the theatre club, you had done it because it’s what you knew, your mother is an actress and you inherited her film-watching obsession. You’ve spent more money on pictures than on food. “Call it trite but like son like mother. Acting is the only thing I’ve ever done, I think I could make a good go of it.” Roger moves your head to the right, “corny but I could take friends to the pictures and tell them I know you.” “You squeeze this friendship for all it’s worth huh?” you ask with a grin. <<elseif $know & $stars is 'starlet'>>\ When you first joined the theatre club, you had done it because it’s what you knew, your mother is an actress and you inherited her film-watching obsession. You’ve spent more money on pictures than on food. “Call it trite but like daughter like mother. Acting is the only thing I’ve ever done, I think I could make a good go of it.” Olivia lightly tugs your head back, “sorry, I can’t reach. As to the acting, I think you could be amazing and I would say I knew you before the fame to everyone.” “And pray tell what stories would you tell?” you ask with a grin. <</if>>\ <<if $gayr>>\ “I can think of one thing you’re good at,” Roger says and presses his lips to yours. He takes advantage of the fact that your mouth was open and slips his tongue inside. Without missing a beat, you both start discarding your clothes. Shaving cream coats Roger’s mouth when he goes to kiss you again. You feel a rumble of laughter in your throat but Roger turns it into a moan when he starts sucking on your neck. Without looking you tumble onto your bed. Through your boxers he starts rubbing you. You gasp in his mouth and not to be undone you stick your hands in his own boxers and he grunts. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86*][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86*][$virgin to true]] <<elseif $bisexualmr>>\ “I can think of one thing you’re good at,” Roger says and presses his lips to yours. He takes advantage of the fact that your mouth was open and slips his tongue inside. Without missing a beat, you both start discarding your clothes. Shaving cream coats Roger’s mouth when he goes to kiss you again. You feel a rumble of laughter in your throat but Roger turns it into a moan when he starts sucking on your neck. Without looking you tumble onto your bed. Through your boxers he starts rubbing you. You gasp in his mouth and not to be undone you stick your hands in his own boxers and he grunts. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86*][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86*][$virgin to true]] <<elseif $lesbiano>>\ “I can be selfish and put my desires first,” she claims. “Oh rea–” She pulls your head back and kisses you on the mouth upside down. You sigh as she softly works your lips open. You sit upright and move to face her before gathering her face into your hands and kissing her. Slowly you find yourself undressed and her too. You place yourself between her legs and place kisses along her breasts, she quietly moans. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86**][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86**][$virgin to true]] <<elseif $bisexualfo>>\ “I can be selfish and put my desires first,” she claims. “Oh rea–” She pulls your head back and kisses you on the mouth upside down. You sigh as she softly works your lips open. You sit upright and move to face her before gathering her face into your hands and kissing her. Slowly you find yourself undressed and her too. You place yourself between her legs and place kisses along her breasts, she quietly moans. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86**][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86**][$virgin to true]] <<else>>\ Your friend just laughs and tries to finish. Your mind continues on to the topic at hand. What if the acting fails? Do you got a plan B? <hr>\ [[⬨Work on radio|Page 86][$radio to true]] [[⬨Continue theatre acting?|Page 86][$theatre to true]] [[⬨Pose for photos|Page 86][$model to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $notk && $stars is 'star'>>\ There’s theatre club, you had joined because it’s what you knew, your mother is an actress and you inherited her film-watching obsession. You’ve spent more money on pictures than on food. You just don’t know if you want to make a career out of that. “Do you think I could be an actor?” Roger moves your head to the right, “of course and I’ll be president.” You punch him in the arm, “I’m serious.” Roger snorts. “Why you asking me for? Only you know.” You roll your eyes, “because you’re you. I have to be good at something.” <<elseif $notk && $stars is 'starlet'>>\ When you first joined the theatre club, you had done it because it’s what you knew, your mother is an actress and you inherited her film-watching obsession. You’ve spent more money on pictures than on food. “Do you think I could be an actress?” Olivia lightly tugs your head back, “sorry, I can’t reach. As to the acting, I think you could be anything in the world.” You sigh, “I’m serious.” You feel the smile in her voice, “why don’t believe me?” You roll your eyes, “because you’re you. You’re too kind.” <</if>>\ <<if $gayr>>\ “I can think of one thing you’re good at,” Roger says and presses his lips to yours. He takes advantage of the fact that your mouth was open and slips his tongue inside. Without missing a beat, you both start discarding your clothes. Shaving cream coats Roger’s mouth when he goes to kiss you again. You feel a rumble of laughter in your throat but Roger turns it into a moan when he starts sucking on your neck. Without looking you tumble onto your bed. Through your boxers he starts rubbing you. You gasp in his mouth and not to be undone you stick your hands in his own boxers and he grunts. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86*][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86*][$virgin to true]] <<elseif $bisexualmr>>\ “I can think of one thing you’re good at,” Roger says and presses his lips to yours. He takes advantage of the fact that your mouth was open and slips his tongue inside. Without missing a beat, you both start discarding your clothes. Shaving cream coats Roger’s mouth when he goes to kiss you again. You feel a rumble of laughter in your throat but Roger turns it into a moan when he starts sucking on your neck. Without looking you tumble onto your bed. Through your boxers he starts rubbing you. You gasp in his mouth and not to be undone you stick your hands in his own boxers and he grunts. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86*][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86*][$virgin to true]] <<elseif $lesbiano>>\ “I can be selfish and put my desires first,” she claims. “Oh rea–” She pulls your head back and kisses you on the mouth upside down. You sigh as she softly works your lips open. You sit upright and move to face her before gathering her face into your hands and kissing her. Slowly you find yourself undressed and her too. You place yourself between her legs and place kisses along her breasts, she quietly moans. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86**][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86**][$virgin to true]] <<elseif $bisexualfo>>\ “I can be selfish and put my desires first,” she claims. “Oh rea–” She pulls your head back and kisses you on the mouth upside down. You sigh as she softly works your lips open. You sit upright and move to face her before gathering her face into your hands and kissing her. Slowly you find yourself undressed and her too. You place yourself between her legs and place kisses along her breasts, she quietly moans. Have you two done this before? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 86**][$novirgin to true]] [[⬨No|Page 86**][$virgin to true]] <<else>>\ Your friend just laughs and tries to finish. Your mind continues on to the topic at hand. What if the acting fails? Do you got a plan B? <hr>\ [[⬨Work on radio|Page 86][$radio to true]] [[⬨Continue theatre acting?|Page 86][$theatre to true]] [[⬨Pose for photos|Page 86][$model to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $novirgin && $pettt>>\ But you weren’t a virgin the first time you slept with Roger. It’s something you had forgotten to mention. You figured, what he didn’t know didn’t hurt him and when in Rome… as the saying goes. When <<cycle '$sexr' autoselect>><<option 'he enters you'>><<option 'you enter him'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your penis tightens and your eyes close. Much better than the petting you did with that movie star. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <<elseif $novirgin>>\ The first time you two slept together it was on Valentine’s Day last year. You both knew that that was going to be the day. Wordlessly that night, you two had begun necking the moment the door closed. When <<cycle '$sexr' autoselect>><<option 'he enters you'>><<option 'you enter him'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your penis tightens and your eyes close. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <<elseif $virgin && $pettt>>\ Oh, hush you fibber. As if you could erase that night with that movie star. As if you weren’t left spent and utterly sinful. It’s something you had forgotten to mention to your boyfriend. You figured, what he didn’t know didn’t hurt him and when in Rome… as the saying goes. When <<cycle '$sexr' autoselect>><<option 'he enters you'>><<option 'you enter him'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your penis tightens and your eyes close. Much better than the petting you did with that movie star. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <<elseif $virgin>>\ Your hands shake as you feel his naked skin. You feel a mix of desire and fear in your stomach. You feel the immensity of what you’re doing. There’s no return from this. Roger must see the storm of conflicting emotions in your eyes because he slows down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You kiss each other gently as your hands explore each other. Your nerves are still inflamed with anxiety but it ebbs enough to continue your lovemaking. When <<cycle '$sexr' autoselect>><<option 'he enters you'>><<option 'you enter him'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your penis tightens and your eyes close. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <</if>>\

<<if $novirgin && $pettt>>\ But you weren’t a virgin the first time you slept with Olivia. It’s something you had forgotten to mention. You figured, what she didn’t know didn’t hurt her and when in Rome… as the saying goes. When<<cycle '$sexo' autoselect>><<option 'you put your finger in her'>><<option 'she puts her finger in you'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your vagina tightens and your eyes close. Much better than the petting you did with that movie star. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <<elseif $novirgin>>\ The first time you two slept together it was on Valentine’s Day last year. You both knew that that was going to be the day. Wordlessly that night, you two had begun necking the moment the door closed. When<<cycle '$sexo' autoselect>><<option 'you put your finger in her'>><<option 'she puts her finger in you'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your vagina tightens and your eyes close. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <<elseif $virgin && $pettt>>\ Oh, hush you fibber. As if you could erase that night with that movie star. As if you weren’t left spent and utterly sinful. It’s something you had forgotten to mention to your girlfriend. You figured, what she didn’t know didn’t hurt her and when in Rome… as the saying goes. When<<cycle '$sexo' autoselect>><<option 'you put your finger in her'>><<option 'she puts her finger in you'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your vagina tightens and your eyes close. Much better than the petting you did with that movie star. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <<elseif $virgin>>\ Your hands shake as you feel her naked skin. You feel a mix of desire and fear in your stomach. You feel the immensity of what you’re doing. There’s no return from this. Olivia must see the storm of conflicting emotions in your eyes because she slows down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You kiss each other gently as your hands explore each other. Your nerves are still inflamed with anxiety but it ebbs enough to continue your lovemaking. When<<cycle '$sexo' autoselect>><<option 'you put your finger in her'>><<option 'she puts her finger in you'>><</cycle>>, you sigh in ecstasy. Your hips twitch, your vagina tightens and your eyes close. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87*]] <</if>>\

You almost laugh when you think about the fact that your plan B is still somehow related to the type of acting you could do as a true star. It seems like there’s only one path for you now. [[⬘ Continue|Page 87]]

<<if $sexr is 'he enters you'>>\ Your toes curl, gripping the sheets as he thrusts into you. His sweat drips down into your eyes but although they sting you’re too distracted by your inflamed nerves. Your groans sound like a song in their quick rhythmic succession. Your sounds are momentarily cut off when he kisses you, his saliva going down your mouth. You dig your nails into his back and grips your thighs painfully. Holding on for the upcoming end you squeeze your eyes shut and voicelessly finish. He empties himself within you and falls onto. You bear his weight and kiss him. After, when you’re lying side-by-side, he says to you, “I love you.” In anyone these words would’ve been magic to hear. To you, who has never heard it before, it sets you into a mild panic. You sit up and start pulling on your clothes. Roger props himself up on his hand and touches your arm. “Where are you going?” “Rehearsal,” you inform. “$bio –” “I really need to go,” you stress as you buckle your belt. You look down at him, his hair matted to his forehead. A spot of blood on the sheets. [[⬘ Continue|Page 88-R]] <<elseif $sexr is 'you enter him'>>\ His legs tighten around your hips as you pump into him with as much stamina as you can manage. His ragged breath in your ear makes you nearly ejaculate. He moves his face and kisses you, A kiss that’s more like an exchange of breaths than a true kiss. Sweat drips down your torso but you feel a tightening that tells you you’re almost there. Gripping the sheets for dear life, you use him for your release. His hands hold onto your shoulders and his cries of completion get you there, shivering. After, when you’re lying side-by-side, he says to you, “I love you.” In anyone these words would’ve been magic to hear. To you, who has never heard it before, it sets you into a mild panic. You sit up and start pulling on your clothes. Roger props himself up on his hand and touches your arm. “Where are you going?” “Rehearsal,” you inform. “$bio –” “I really need to go,” you stress as you buckle your belt. You look down at him, his hair matted to his forehead. A spot of blood on the sheets. [[⬘ Continue|Page 88-R]] <<elseif $sexo is 'you put your finger in her'>>\ You pump your finger slowly into her moist entrance. She moans softly as you go your pace making love to her. You use your other hand to rub the nub below her hairy mound in sync with what you’re doing inside her. Her wetness taints your finger and you press your thighs together. You could just lick her everywhere. When she begins bucking her hips you bring your lips and gently suck her folds. She whines as she comes. You take your finger out and slide on top of her, planting a kiss on her moistened lips. After, when her head is lying on your shoulder, she says what you hadn’t expected. “I love you.” If she had said that to another person, perhaps it would’ve been received better. But she didn’t. She said it to you. “God,” you groan and sit up, making her head fall onto the bed. You start pulling on your clothes. “Did I say something wrong?” she asks, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “No,” you reply. “If I don’t go now I’ll be late for rehearsals.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 88-O]] <<elseif $sexo is 'she puts her finger in you'>>\ She curls her finger inside of you and you press your mouth into the pillow, biting the fabric to try and stop your moans. She brings your folds into her mouth and sucks. Your hips push off the bed and she has to gently bring them down. You feel your wetness stain the bed sheet beneath you and imagining hoe drenched her finger almost makes you come. But you hold on, because what she’s doing to you is so good. However, you can’t hold on forever and when you do reach your release you bite your tongue from screaming. You don’t feel her take her finger out of you but you do feel when her soft body slides atop yours. She kisses your nose. After, when her head is lying on your shoulder, she says what you hadn’t expected. “I love you.” If she had said that to another person, perhaps it would’ve been received better. But she didn’t. She said it to you. “God,” you groan and sit up, making her head fall onto the bed. You start pulling on your clothes. “Did I say something wrong?” she asks, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “No,” you reply. “If I don’t go now I’ll be late for rehearsals.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 88-O]] <</if>>

<<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Have you told your mother about the acting?” Roger asks. You grimace. You had never told her you were in theatre, much less that your only viable career path is acting. You weren’t the type of person to be working in the automobile factories for 17 cents an hour. At least that’s what you think those poor fools make. “She’ll make a fuss,” you excuse. Roger pushes your chin up, “you just don’t wanna tell her. She’s gonna find out anyway.” “If she cuts me off I’ll have to get a real job, these hands aren’t made for working,” you joke and hold up your hands. “You’re just a yellow-belly,” he states. “As if you wouldn’t grovel if your ma and pa didn’t fund your lifestyle,” you retort. “That’s cause I like my life and I ain’t hiding anything. I’m going to be a doctor as they want and it ain’t bother me none,” he claims. [[⬘ Continue|Page 88]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “So, how did your momma take it?” Olive asks. You grimace. You had never told her you were in theatre, much less that your only viable career path is acting. You weren’t the type of person to be working in the clothing factories for 17 cents an hour. At least that’s what you think those poor fools make. “I didn’t tell her,” you admit and you hasten to speak when you see Olivia’s face, “she’ll make a fuss. It’s best to just–” “Leave it until you can’t? Dottie, she’s going to find out. You think you’ll be able to hide it when you’re headlining a poster fifty-feet high?” You try to laugh it off, “you have a lot of faith in me.” She sighs, “I’m not joking with you. You need to tell her.” You feel a flash of anger, “what’s it to you? Have you told your parents about cooking school?” Olivia lets go of your hair. [[⬘ Continue|Page 88*]] <</if>>\

<<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ “Yes, cause you have no aspirations of your own,” you say under your breath. Roger lets go of you and you wipe your face with the towel around your neck. “What did you say?” he asks, coldly. “Forget it. You missed a spot by the way,” you taunt. Roger throws the razor on the ground and pushes you. Your back hits the wall. He stands a few feet away from you, his hands curled into fists. “We don’t all need to have big dreams, asshole. At least I ain’t afraid of my momma,” he sneers. You smirk, “I’m not afraid of anyone. When you’re wiping people’s asses and getting coughed in the face, let’s see how high and mighty you feel.” Roger glares at you and you prepare yourself for a rough and tumble but he just growls and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. [[⬘ Continue|Page 89]] <<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>\ “Yes, cause you have no aspirations of your own,” you say. Roger lets go of you and you wipe your face with the towel around your neck. “What did you say?” he asks, coldly. “You heard me. You missed a spot by the way,” you taunt. Roger throws the razor on the ground and pushes you. Your back hits the wall. He stands a few feet away from you, his hands curled into fists. “We don’t all need to have big dreams, asshole. At least I ain’t afraid of my momma,” he sneers. <<if $gay>>\ You push off the wall, “I’m not afraid of anyone. At least I can go around with my head held high. I can keep my desires in check. Anyone can see you’re a walking fairy.” <<elseif $bisexualm>>\ You push off the wall, “I’m not afraid of anyone. At least I can go around with my head held high. I can keep my desires in check. At least I like women. Anyone can see you’re a walking fairy.” <<elseif $straightm>>\ You push off the wall, “I’m not afraid of anyone. At least I can go around with my head held high. My desires are normal. Anyone can see you’re a walking fairy.” <</if>> You spit those words like venom and you feel good about it too. Roger freezes in rage and you shove him, making him slam against the wall. You open your arms, “come on, tough guy. Give me your best.” Roger grinds his teeth and he seems to want to take you up on that offer. You tense, ready to rumble. But he just looks at you in disgust and walks away, slamming the door behind him. [[⬘ Continue|Page 89]] <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ “I don’t want to fight,” you admit. He stops shaving you, “those sound like fighting words. Cat got your tongue?” You take the razor from him and wipe your face with the towel. “Roger, please,” you sigh and put your things away. “I don’t like getting into it with you.” That just seems to get him more riled up. You feel his piercing eyes on you. “You think you’re so much better than I because I’m doing what mommy and daddy say?” Your hand clenches and you prevent crueler words from leaving your mouth. “If that’s what you want to think, it’s your issue,” you reply. He scoffs and continues looking at you. You don’t look up when he walks to the door and slams it open. He leaves without closing it. [[⬘ Continue|Page 89]] <<elseif $Obedient > 2>>\ “Can we not fight? Neither of us truly want to,” you beseech. He stops shaving you, “those sound like fighting words. Cat got your tongue?” You take the razor from him and wipe your face with the towel. “I don’t want to say things both of us will regret,” you sigh and put your things away. “We’re friends and we have different ways of viewing things.” That just seems to get him more riled up. You feel his piercing eyes on you. “You think you’re so much better than I because I’m doing what momma and daddy say?” Your hand clenches and you prevent crueler words from leaving your mouth. “That’s not what I said but clearly you’re not in the mood to believe me, so….” you trail off. He scoffs and continues looking at you. You don’t look up when he walks to the door and slams it open. He leaves without closing it. [[⬘ Continue|Page 89]] <</if>>

<<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ “That’s not fair,” she says. You stand up and go to the mirror, fixing the stray hairs she didn’t. “It’s not fair for you to bring up things that aren’t your business but you do.” You hear her moving off your bed and you decide to admire yourself in your reflection. “I’m just trying to help. You and your mother haven’t ever gotten along, all I want–” You turn around, “well I didn’t ask you what you wanted. Did I?” Her sad eyes widen and they start crystallising with tears. It tugs at your heart strings. Sighing, you say, “Olive–” She stands up and practically runs out of the room. She doesn’t slam the door behind her though, she would never be so dramatic. [[⬘ Continue|Page 89*]] <<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>\ “That’s not fair,” she says. You stand up and go to the mirror, fixing the stray hairs she didn’t. “Frankly, I don’t care, my dear. You’re being rather annoying.” You hear her moving off your bed and you decide to admire yourself in your reflection. “I’m just trying to help. You and your mother haven’t ever gotten along, all I want–” <<if $lesbian>>\ You turn around, “do you want to talk about unspeakable subjects? Because we can go to something more salacious. Perhaps the blush in cheeks everytime you see a girl’s legs?” Her sad eyes widen and they start crystallising with tears. It tugs at your heart strings. Still you’re angry. “Don’t lecture me about things we don’t tell our folks. You're more obvious about your desires than I am.” <<elseif $bisexualf>>\ You turn around, “do you want to talk about unspeakable subjects? Because we can go to something more salacious. Perhaps the blush in cheeks everytime you see a girl’s legs?” Her sad eyes widen and they start crystallising with tears. It tugs at your heart strings. Still you’re angry. “Don’t lecture me about things we don’t tell our folks. You're more obvious about your desires than I am. At least I could marry a man and be content.” <<elseif $straightf>>\ You turn around, “do you want to talk about unspeakable subjects? Because we can go to something more salacious. Perhaps the blush in cheeks everytime you see a girl’s legs?” Her sad eyes widen and they start crystallising with tears. It tugs at your heart strings. Still you’re angry. “Don’t lecture me about things we don’t tell our folks. You're more obvious about your desires than I am. At least I don’t have anything to hide.” <</if>> She stands up and practically runs out of the room. She doesn’t slam the door behind her though, she would never be so dramatic. <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ “That’s not fair,” she says. You stand up and run your hand through your hair. “I’m sorry but it isn’t fair for you to pressure me either.” You hear her get up and look at her in the mirror. Her expression is hurt and you instantly feel bad. Olive is only looking out for you, you know that. The idea that she could be mad at you torments you. But your need to be liked fights with your need to not talk about this. “I’m just trying to help you. You and your mother haven’t ever gotten along, all I want is for you to be happy,” she says sincerely. //I know,// you want to say. “I’m just trying to help you. You and your mother haven’t ever gotten along, all I want is for you to be happy,” she says sincerely. Instead you turn around with a bright smile and lie, “I’m going to go get some pudding from the cafeteria. I’ll bring you back some.” “Doll—” You leave before you can hear the rest. <<elseif $Obedient > 1>>\ “That’s not fair,” she says. You stand up and run your hand through your hair. “I’m sorry but it isn’t fair for you to pressure me either.” You hear her get up and look at her in the mirror. Her expression is hurt and you instantly feel bad. Olive is only looking out for you, you know that. The idea that she could be mad at you torments you. But your need to be liked fights with your need to not talk about this. “I’m just trying to help you. You and your mother haven’t ever gotten along, all I want is for you to be happy,” she says sincerely. //I know,// you want to say. “I’m just trying to help you. You and your mother haven’t ever gotten along, all I want is for you to be happy,” she says sincerely. Instead you turn around with a bright smile and lie, “I’m going to go get some pudding from the cafeteria. I’ll bring you back some.” “Doll—” You leave before you can hear the rest. <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 89*]]

These robes are itchy. You pull on the sleeves of your uniform’s blazer. The cap is also too hot. A bright sun reigns down everyone in attendance. Sweat stains, fans made from brochures and babies crying truly sets the tone for this ceremony. Your Brilliantine-d side part has surely been ruined by the cap. You adjust it so that the photographer can catch your better side. Headmaster Francis drones on about the graduating class of ‘32. He’s on a sentimental train about watching us grow up from young boys to men. From ruffians to respectable God-fearing gentlemen of society. Roger snores in his seat. He sits in the crowd while you stand on the stage. Waiting with the other notable students. Fortunately you wouldn’t have to go through the humiliation of your childhood friend refusing to sit near you in public. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>That is because, you’re receiving an award for excellence in Rugby.<<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>That is because, you’re receiving an award for excellence in Rugby.<<elseif $Obedient is 1>>You’re receiving an award for academic excellence. You also happen to be valedictorian.<<elseif $Obedient > 1>>You’re receiving an award for academic excellence. You also happen to be valedictorian.<</if>> <<if $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice'>>To add to your achievements, you also beat out by a hair, Zachary, for the theatrical excellence award.<<elseif $ability is 'you have talent'>>To add to your greatest achievements, you also have an award for your theatrical talent.<<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?'>>Adding to your roster is the theatrical achievement award which was given to you less for talent than because you had a chat with Bruns, a long chat involving a few Benjamin Franklins. Zachary was furious.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 90]]

<<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ “You don’t need to run off, you don’t have to say it. I wanted to know if you told your ma about the acting?” “What’s it to you?” Roger's soft expression sours at the tone of your words. He gets up and starts roughly putting on his pants. “Apparently nothing.” “Good,” you say curtly and throw on your blazer. You’re tempted to slam the door behind you when you leave but you contain yourself enough. Instead you leave it open. You hear him curse as he has to close it, and so he’s the one who ends up dramatically slamming a door. <<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>\ “You don’t need to run off, you don’t have to say. I wanted to know if you told your ma about the acting?” “Piss off,” you say sourly. Roger's soft expression turns steely at the tone of your words. He gets up and starts roughly putting on his pants. “I was trying to be nice.” “Don’t try so hard. It’s pathetic,” you say curtly and throw on your blazer. You slam the door behind you and hear the old lock fall off. You two had it repaired a few months ago. Roger curses. <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ “You don’t need to run off, you don’t have to say it. I wanted to know if you told your ma about the acting?” “I don’t want to talk about that,” you reply. Roger sighs and gets up, he touches your hand and you let him. But you don’t look at him. “I’m not asking you for much.” “That’s what you think,” you say softly and pull away. You walk out without looking back. <<elseif $Obedient > 1>>\ “You don’t need to run off, you don’t have to say it. I wanted to know if you told your ma about the acting?” “Please, don’t go down that path. It’ll make me feel worse than I do,” you warn. Roger raises his eyebrows and gets up, he kisses your shoulder and you close your eyes for a moment. “I’m not asking for much.” “I guess we can agree to disagree. It’s all too much for me,” you admit softly and pull away. You walk out without looking back. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 89]]

“$bio you don’t need to say–” “Let’s not talk about it,” you interject and stand up. She stands up too and tries to touch you. “We can talk about other things? You don’t need to leave, Dottie. We can talk about your acting again. I actually wanted to ask you if you told your mother.” <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ “Don’t be ridiculous,” you say and throw her hand off of you. “What do you mean? I want to know if you told your mother something important. How is that–” “Bye,” you say curtly and walk out of the room. You slam it behind you and feel a satisfaction when you hear the lock that was repaired months ago, break again. <<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>\ “Have you suddenly become a halfwit?” The venom in your voice makes her back away. “Why are you being cruel?” “Because I can,” you say with a smile you don’t mean. “And because you give me reasons, don’t say stupid things if you don’t want to look stupid.” You walk out of the room and leave the door open for anyone to pass by and see her as God brought her into the world. <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ “Olive, you know how I feel about that,” you say with a tired voice. “I do. But sometimes we have to talk about things we don’t like. It’s good for us,” she says. “Perhaps,” you admit. But you still leave and you don’t have the strength to look at her once. You stay in front of the door in an attempt to overcome your emotional burdens. Ultimately you walk away. <<elseif $Obedient > 2>>\ “I don’t want to sound rude. But I cannot talk about that with you. Not now, and perhaps not ever,” you admit with a tired voice. “Why? Don’t you trust me? I would never betray your feelings to anyone,” she insists. You take a moment to reply. You look back at her, at her big eyes you find yourself lost in most days. “I know. You aren’t the problem.” You leave and when the door clicks behind you, you don’t immediately go. You try to fight with your emotional burdens but they defeat you. Ultimately you walk away. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 89*]]

These robes are itchy. You pull on the sleeves of your uniform’s blazer. The cap is also too hot. A bright sun reigns down everyone in attendance. Sweat stains, fans made from brochures and babies crying truly sets the tone for this ceremony. Your tight curls has loosend to barely defined ringlets. You adjust it so that the photographer can catch your better side. Headmistress Phillipa drones on about the graduating class of ‘32. She’s on a sentimental train about watching us grow up from young girls to young women. From ballerinas to respectable God-fearing ladies of society. Olivia pays rapt attention. She sits in the crowd while you stand on the stage. Waiting with the other notable students. Fortunately you wouldn’t have to go through the humiliation of your childhood friend refusing to sit near you in public. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>That is because, you’re receiving an award for excellence in track. In the decade since Sister Edwina would secretly let you run, it‘s become more acceptable for women to play these sports.<<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>That is because, you’re receiving an award for excellence in track. In the decade since Sister Edwina would secretly let you run, it‘s become more acceptable for women to play these sports.<<elseif $Obedient is 1>>You’re receiving an award for academic excellence. You also happen to be valedictorian.<<elseif $Obedient > 1>>You’re receiving an award for academic excellence. You also happen to be valedictorian.<</if>> <<if $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice'>>To add to your achievements, you also beat out by a hair, Zara, for the theatrical excellence award.<<elseif $ability is 'you have talent'>>To add to your greatness you also have an award for your theatrical talent.<<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?'>>Adding to your roster is the theatrical achievement award which was given to you less for talent than because you had a chat with Bruns, a long chat involving a few Benjamin Franklins. Zara was furious.<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 90*]]

<<if $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “Now, to speak for our graduating class is Mr. $maiden, a most model student,” Headmaster Francis announces. You shake his hand and put your speech on the podium. Adjusting the microphone you look into the audience. Tommy nudges Roger awake. He grumbles, smacks his lips a few times and looks at you. When he sees you already looking at him, he looks down. The heat makes sweat run down your face. Do you have stage fright? <hr> [[⬨Yes|Page 91][$stagefright to true]] [[⬨No|Page 91][$nofright to true]] <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “Now, to speak for our graduating class is Mr. Malone, a most model student,” Headmaster Francis announces. A boy with straw-colored hair goes up to shake the headmaster’s hand and then steps into the stool to reach the microphone. You snort at that and the headmaster gives you a look of warning. Roger starts drooling and Tommy has to nudge him awake. Which doesn’t work. You wipe the sweat from your face and impatiently wait for this to be over. Malone starts stuttering as he goes on with his speech. “W-w-we a-are h-here t-t-t-oday t-t-to…” //Kill me now.// Poor bastard. Perhaps it’s best that you weren’t valedictorian. As if you could be with your grades but if it were a popularity contest you would’ve won. Do you have stage fright? <hr> [[⬨Yes|Page 91][$stagefright to true]] [[⬨No|Page 91][$nofright to true]] <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ “Now, to speak for our graduating class...,” Headmaster Francis sighs. You outwardly smile, he hates this. Your behaviour has been less than stellar, you’ve gotten into more detentions than you have fingers but your grades are phenomenal. “...is Mr. $maiden.” When you go up and shake his head he presses it a bit too hard and you try not to whince. You put your speech on the podium. Adjusting the microphone you look into the audience. Tommy nudges Roger awake. He grumbles, smacks his lips a few times and looks at you. When he sees you already looking at him, he looks down. The heat makes sweat run down your face. Do you have stage fright? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 91][$stagefright to true]] [[⬨No|Page 91][$nofright to true]] <</if>>

<<if $Obedient > $Rebellious && $stagefright>>\ An aspiring actor who has stage fright. How ironic. You remember the first time you ever went on stage, you endured it until class was over and vomited in the bathroom. After all these years, you don’t vomit so much but you do get a series of symptoms. Clammy hands, warm ears, nausea and most of all… stuttering. “St. Andrews’ s-school for b-boys is n-not o-o-only a s-school f-for u-us. I-it is a-a-a—” You bite your lip and look away from the words that have grown hazy in your swimming eyes. The crowd seems so far away yet you keenly feel their eyes on you. You search the crowd for a familiar face. You know all these boys. But only one stands out. Roger leans forward in his chair and looks at you gravely. He’s mouthing something you can’t make out. But with the smile that accompanies, you know he’s trying to make you feel better in spite of the asshole you’ve been. You let out a shaky breath and swallow the lump in your throat. You look down at the words written in ink and wipe the sweat from your brow. You force yourself through it. “I-it is a h-home. T-the bonds w-we h-have created h-h-here shall f-follow us for the r-rest of o-our lives…” Your brain wanders and you end up reciting the rest of the speech automatically, without much emotion and so when it’s done you have to speak into the microphone to say you’re done. The crowd slowly claps, Roger more furiously than anyone. Headmaster Francis claps you on the shoulder, “thank you Mr. $maiden for such a… well-enough speech.” You smile awkwardly and go to sit at the back of the stage with the others. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious && $nofright>>\ As if, the stage and audience are like a second home to you. It’s in your blood to raise your voice above the others and not flinch when tens of eyes are on you. It’s rather exhilarating. “When people ask you what your first memories are, what do you say? Perhaps it’s the faces of your parents. A dog you loved or a phobia of clowns that followed you into adulthood. Although, who wouldn’t fear clowns? Frightening little buggers aren’t they?” You begin with a smile and the crowd hoots. “Memories shape us. We are a collection of the experiences we’ve had. A single one has made up what we are standing here today under this blazing heat. Take one away and we could vastly change,” you say. You look up and see Roger leaning forward in his seat, his eyes glued to you. His lips twitch but he doesn’t smile. “My first memory is of this school. Of my teachers and most of all of my friends who I love dearly. No, the word ‘friends’ isn't good enough. My brothers, who although God didn’t make us blood related, our bond goes deeper than genetics. It touches our very souls…” You continue on without issue and when you finish with, “I hope the memory of this school follows us into manhood, colouring our lives and that of our children, forever. Perchance, it will mean a better world,” the crowd stands up with roaring applause. Roger enthusiastically applauds and whistles. You beam at him. Headmaster Francis throws an arm around you and says, “good work Mr. $maiden. You have made this school proud.” You go to the back of the stage and sit down. <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient && $stagefright>>\ It’s irritating and stupid. What kind of aspiring actor has stage fright? You remember the first time you ever went on stage, you endured it until class was over and vomited in the bathroom. After all these years, you don’t vomit so much but you do get a series of symptoms. Clammy hands, warm ears, nausea and most of all… stuttering. You can easily see yourself in the place of that fool Malone. The sun is too hot, Roger looks at you with a face you can’t comprehend and Malone is taking too damn long. All that is to say that you’re not having such a swell time. When you take off your cap and use your paper achievement to wipe your brow. The boy next to you looks scandalized and you give him a cheeky grin. Taking sweat for your face and flinging it on him. “Ew!” he yells, loud enough to interrupt the speech. Everyone looks back at you and Headmaster Francis rushes to the microphone, “a few difficulties with the banquet. I and a student will take care of it.” He pushes Malone forward and then roughly grabs you by the robe, dragging you off the stage. He leads you back to the school. “In all my years of headmaster I have never see a student more irresponsible, rebellious and foolhardy—” You tune out the rest of his lecture because you’ve heard it before. <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient && $nofright>>\ As if, the stage and audience are like a second home to you. It’s in your blood to raise your voice above the others and not flinch when tens of eyes are on you. It’s rather exhilarating. You can easily see yourself in the place of that fool Malone, doing a much better job than he would. The sun is too hot, Roger looks at you with a face you can’t comprehend and Malone is taking too damn long. All that is to say that you’re not having such a swell time. When you take off your cap and use your paper achievement to wipe your brow. The boy next to you looks scandalized and you give him a cheeky grin. Taking sweat for your face and flinging it on him. “Ew!” he yells, loud enough to interrupt the speech. Everyone looks back at you and Headmaster Francis rushes to the microphone, “a few difficulties with the banquet. I and a student will take care of it.” He pushes Malone forward and then roughly grabs you by the robe, dragging you off the stage. He leads you back to the school. “In all my years of headmaster I have never see a student more irresponsible, rebellious and foolhardy—” You tune out the rest of his lecture because you’ve heard it before. <<elseif $Obedient >= $Rebellious && $stagefright>>\ An aspiring actor who has stage fright. How ironic. You remember the first time you ever went on stage, you endured it until class was over and vomited in the bathroom. After all these years, you don’t vomit so much but you do get a series of symptoms. Clammy hands, warm ears, nausea and most of all… stuttering. “St. Andrews’ s-school for b-boys is n-not o-o-only a s-school f-for u-us. I-it is a-a-a—” You bite your lip and look away from the words that have grown hazy in your swimming eyes. The crowd seems so far away yet you keenly feel their eyes on you. You search the crowd for a familiar face. You know all these boys. But only one stands out. Roger leans forward in his chair and looks at you gravely. He’s mouthing something you can’t make out. But with the smile that accompanies, you know he’s trying to make you feel better in spite of the asshole you’ve been. You let out a shaky breath and swallow the lump in your throat. You look down at the words written in ink and wipe the sweat from your brow. You force yourself through it. “I-it is a h-home. T-the bonds w-we h-have created h-h-here shall f-follow us for the r-rest of o-our lives…” Your brain wanders and you end up reciting the rest of the speech automatically, without much emotion and so when it’s done you have to speak into the microphone to say you’re done. The crowd slowly claps, Roger more furiously than anyone. Headmaster Francis claps you on the shoulder, “thank you Mr. $maiden for such a… well-enough speech.” You feel like kicking him but you’re more ashamed of your performance to care about that. You smile awkwardly and go to sit at the back of the stage with the others. <<elseif $Obedient >= $Rebellious && $nofright>>\ As if, the stage and audience are like a second home to you. It’s in your blood to raise your voice above the others and not flinch when tens of eyes are on you. It’s rather exhilarating. “When people ask you what your first memories are, what do you say? Perhaps it’s the faces of your parents. A dog you loved or a phobia of clowns that followed you into adulthood. Although, who wouldn’t fear clowns? Frightening little buggers aren’t they?” You begin with a smile and the crowd hoots. “Memories shape us. We are a collection of the experiences we’ve had. A single one has made up what we are standing here today under this blazing heat. Take one away and we could vastly change,” you say. You look up and see Roger leaning forward in his seat, his eyes glued to you. His lips twitch but he doesn’t smile. “My first memory is of this school. Of my teachers and most of all of my friends who I love dearly. No, the word ‘friends’ isn’t good enough. My brothers, who although God didn’t make us blood related, our bond goes deeper than genetics. It touches our very souls…” You continue on without issue and when you finish with, “I hope the memory of this school follows us into manhood, colouring our lives and that of our children, forever. Perchance, it will mean a better world,” the crowd stands up with roaring applause. Roger enthusiastically applauds and whistles. You beam at him. Headmaster Francis throws an arm around you and says, “thank you for not pulling one of your antics.” You snort. How nice. You go to the back of the stage and sit down. <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 92]]

<<if $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ After the ceremony, you and your friends sit on the field, talking about your plans. Tommy is going to work for his father who owns a law firm, Corey got accepted into Yale and Frederick is travelling the world. <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You miss the rest of the ceremony because Headmaster Francis spends thirty minutes yelling at you in his office. You pick at a frayed stitch on your robe while you wait for him to calm down. He eventually does and you’re allowed to go after a ruler to the hands. You’re still rubbing them when you meet your friends on the field, who are talking about their future plans. Tommy is going to work for his father who owns a law firm, Corey got accepted into Yale and Frederick is travelling the world. <</if>>\ Roger walks up to the group and plops himself down next to you, licking an ice cream cone. “Where did you get that?” you ask. He licks a drop that falls on his hand, “banquet.” You lean in so as to not be heard by others, “so I take it you’re not mad anymore?” “I was mad? You’re the one who got mad first,” he responds. You roll your eyes. “You want me to take all the blame, huh?” He grins and bumps your shoulder with his. <<if $gayr>>\ Making sure the others aren’t looking, you reach over and place your hand atop his. He licks his ice cream as if nothing is wrong. He rubs your finger with his thumb. “Richmond!” You hastily pull your hand back. “What?” Roger asks. <<elseif $bisexualmr>>\ Making sure the others aren’t looking, you reach over and place your hand atop his. He licks his ice cream as if nothing is wrong. He rubs your finger with his thumb. “Richmond!” You hastily pull your hand back. “What?” Roger asks. <<else>>\ You bump him back and when you exchange smiles that’s all that’s needed to say you’re sorry. “Richmond!” “What?” Roger asks. <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 93]]

“You’re going to North Carolina for school, right?” Frederick asks. “Course,” he replies, biting into his snack. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ “And you’re going to Carnegie Mellon, right?” he asks you. By a near miracle. Your academic record leaves much to be desired, the only reason you think you got accepted was because of your Rugby skills, theatre club and because of who your mother is. <<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>\ “And you’re going to NYU, right?” he asks you. Your academic record is a mess, NYU is the only school you were able to get into that holds some level of prestige while also desperate to accept kids with familial ties like yours. <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ “And you’re going to Columbia, right?” he asks you. It was your second choice, and although that minor loss did sting. It’s still a great school and it fills you up with pride. You don’t like to think your parentage had anything to do with it. <<elseif $Obedient > 1>>\ “And you’re going to Brown, right?” he asks you. It was your first choice. Your academic record spoke for itself, and unlike your peers you were accepted quickly. You don’t like to think your parentage had anything to do with it. <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ “And you’re going to Brown, right?” he asks you. It was your first choice. Your grades spoke for itself even if your academic record did not, and unlike your peers you were accepted quickly. You don’t like to think your parentage had anything to do with it. <</if>>\ “Yes, why?” Frederick shrugs, “isn’t that more than 10 hours by train? I thought you two would go to school together.” You and Roger exchange glances. You hadn’t talked about that, it was something that both of you seemed to be pushing aside but today you graduated. The future is now. [[⬘ Continue|Page 94]]

“Telephones exist, O’Hara,” Roger states. “So do planes, we’re not connected at the hip,” you add. Frederick shrugs and starts talking to Tommy. “However, it is far. If my acting career takes off, I might have to go to Los Angeles which is even further,” you say to him in a low voice. Roger throws his ice cream into the grass. “Let’s go see if we can get something to drink at the banquet.” That night, you get a call from your momma. You had… <hr>\ [[⬨Invited her|Page 95][$invited to true]] [[⬨Not invited her|Page 95]]

<<if $invited>>\ In spite of the fact that you knew she wouldn’t be able to make it due to her shooting a film in Canada. You did receive a gold watch with encrusted diamonds and a promise for a call.<<set $Mallory += 1>> <<else>>\ You knew she wouldn’t be able to come anyway because she was shooting a movie in Canada. And frankly, you didn’t want her there all that much. You did receive a gold watch with encrusted diamonds and a promise for a call. <</if>>\ “Hello?” “How is my special man?! My graduate, my future college man?” she says excitedly into the phone. “I’m doing good, Momma,” you reply. “Oh, please tell me they took photos! I want one with you in your cap and gown.” “They did. I think they’ll send them to you,” you say. She squeals and you hear clapping. <<if $Mallory > 1>>\ Your lips twitch. It’s hard to be mad at her when she’s so happy, she’s like a child. “And then university in the fall, I think you’ll be the first person in my family who gets to go,” she claims. “That’s swell,” you say, trying to seem enthusiastic for her. “And in four years you’ll be a fully educated man. Which reminds me! What are you studying for? Will I need to call you my little lawyer, doctor, scientist?” she inquiries. You lick your lips, looking around not knowing if you should say what you want to say. What you should say, according to Roger. The issue is that you know how she’ll take it and she’s paying for your schooling, apartment and food next fall. You love her, and you also love the life she gives you. <hr>\ [[⬨ Tell her you want to be an actor|Page 96][$truth to true]] [[⬨ Go along with her story|Page 96*]] <<else>>\ You press your lips into a thin line, she sure seems happy for someone who didn’t show up for this ceremony that so supposedly cares about for the child she supposedly loves. Invitation or not. “And then university in the fall, I think you’ll be the first person in my family who gets to go,” she claims. “That’s swell,” you say without much heart. You aren’t going to pretend for her. “And in four years you’ll be a fully educated man. Which reminds me! What are you studying for? Will I need to call you my little lawyer, doctor, scientist?” she inquiries. You lick your lips, looking around not knowing if you should say what you want to say. What you should say, according to Roger. The issue is that you know how she’ll take it and she’s paying for your schooling, apartment and food next fall. Whatever your problems with her are, her money isn’t inconsequential. <hr>\ [[⬨Tell her you want to be an actor|Page 96][$truth to true]] [[⬨Go along with her story|Page 96*]] <</if>>\

“Momma, I have to tell you something,” you begin. She stops her prattling, “yes, Muffin?” <<if $Mallory > 1>>\ You gulp and pull on your tassel. “I think maybe I shouldn’t… go to university next fall. I maybe…. it would like to be an actor.” The other end goes dead. You wait for a few seconds, “momma? You there?” She doesn’t respond. You sigh, “I know how you feel about that but I don’t know why. I feel like it'd be a good move for me.” “You’re a kid. What do you know about what’s good for you?” she asks, her voice strained. “Where did this ridiculous idea come from? Who’s been putting these ideas into your head?” “No one! I’m the one who made this choice. What is wrong with wanting to act? You do it and it’s going more than good for you, what’s the difference between you and me?” you ask, your voice rising. “EVERYTHING!” she yells hysterically. “Do you think acting is just getting in front of a camera and reciting lines?!” You dig your nails into your hand, “of course not!” “Then what is it, $bio? Since you think you know it all?” she asks angrily. You throw up your hand, “well now that you’re putting on the spot I can’t very well think of a good answer. You have years of experience, you know more. Happy?” <<else>>\ You prepare yourself for the storm and pull on your tassel. “I don’t want to go to school next fall, I want to be an actor.” The other end goes dead. You wait for a few seconds, “momma? You there?” She doesn’t respond. You sigh, “I know how you feel about that but I don’t know why. I feel like it'd be a good move for me.” “You’re a kid. What do you know about what’s good for you?” she asks, her voice strained. “Where did this ridiculous idea come from? Who’s been putting these ideas into your head?” “No one! I’m the one who made this choice. What is wrong with wanting to act? You do it and it’s going more than good for you, what the hell is the difference between you and me?” you ask, early screaming. “EVERYTHING!” she yells hysterically. “Do you think acting is just getting in front of a camera and reciting lines?!” You dig your nails into your hand, “of course not!” “Then what is it, $bio? Since you think you know it all?” she asks angrily. You growl, “thanks for putting me on the spot! Now I can’t think of a damn thing! It’s not fair you have years of experience, obviously you know more! Happy now?!” <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 97]]

“I don’t know yet. I think for now I’ll take some classes here and there,” you reply. “Good idea! We don’t want you to rush into things and end up doing something you hate. I don’t know how that university thing works but I know how smart my Muffin is,” she says. “Uh huh,” you reply. “When I’m done with this picture we’ll go somewhere. How about the Caribbean? Oh, I need warm weather, I’m chilled to my soul here.” “Swell,” you say, in a monotone voice. “Just swell.” “And just you wait, I want to see your dorm! Of course we’ll decorate it, university furnishings are drab. You need a decorator’s touch,” she claims. “Of course,” you say. You mentally berate yourself for your cowardice. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You’re usually so outspoken, you never back down from a slight, fight or the truth. Why couldn’t you do it now? <<set $college to true>> <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You always want to maintain the peace. You never want to be confrontational. You don’t want the dramatics your mother and her ilk live for. That can be good, but all things have downsides. <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ You’re usually so outspoken, you never back down from a slight, fight or the truth. Why couldn’t you do it now? Do you want her approval so badly? Or her money? <<set $college to true>>\ <</if>> You hear a voice in the background. “What?” your mother yells. The voice says something you can’t make out. “OK!” “Muffin, I have to go. I’ll call you soon, adore you!” she exclaims and hangs up. You put the telephone down slowly. You stand there for a few seconds and then… <hr>\ [[⬨Scream into your hands|Page 98][$melt1 to true]] [[⬨Throw the telephone|Page 98][$melt2 to true]] [[⬨Sit down and take a deep breath|Page 98][$melt3 to true]]

<<if $Mallory > 1>>\ “No, I'm not happy at all! You’re not going to do this! I prohibit it!” she screams. “You won’t change your mind? Not even if this could make me happy?” you ask, your voice thick. Your mother exhales loudly. “Now you’re trying to make me feel bad. That’s a dirty trick. Muffin, I know what I’m talking about. You’re not doing this and if you do I’m not paying for it.” <<else>>\ “No, I'm not happy at all! You’re not going to do this! I prohibit it!” she screams. “And what if I do it anyway? Since I’m the only one here who gives a shit about my happiness,” you ask, your voice cold. Your mother exhales loudly. “Language, young man! Now you’re trying to make me feel bad. That’s a dirty trick. Muffin, I know what I’m talking about. You’re not doing this and if you do I’m not paying for it.” <</if>>\ Your blood freezes, “what does that mean?” “It means I’ll cut you off. You’ll have to get a real job like a normal person. No more fancy clothes, no more spending money on your friends or pictures. Nothing,” she threatens. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “Fine I don’t need you anyway!” you yell. “Fine!” she yells back. You slam the telephone down. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You close your eyes and pull from your lips, words that taste acrid like defeat. “Fine, you win.” Your mother sighs, “oh, Muffin. Thank God, you don't know… you just don’t know—” You hear a voice in the background. “What?” your mother yells. The voice says something you can’t make out. “OK!” “Muffin, I have to go. I’ll call you soon, adore you!” she exclaims and hangs up. You put the telephone down slowly. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “Fine I don’t need you anyway!” you yell. Thought your heart panics from the rash decision you are making. “Fine!” she yells back. You slam the telephone down. <</if>>\ You stand there for a few seconds and then… <hr>\ [[⬨Scream into your hands|Page 98][$melt1 to true]] [[⬨Throw the telephone|Page 98][$melt2 to true]] [[⬨Sit down and take a deep breath|Page 98][$melt3 to true]]

<<if $melt1>>\ Your throat hurts after a few minutes. <<elseif $melt2>>\ It slams against the wall and crumples to the floor. <<elseif $melt3>>\ It takes many breathers to calm your racing heart. <</if>>\ When you do feel better, you stick your hands into your pockets and walk down the corridors. Your mind racing with thoughts. You end up in the courtyard and sit down by the fountain. You skim your hand along the surface and look up to the moon, which shines in its full moon force. You finally know the answer to the question Magenta Way posed to you two years ago. You want to be an actor because… <hr>\ [[⬨You want to rival your mother|Page 99][$reason1 to true]] [[⬨You want the freedom to choose your life|Page 99][$reason2 to true]] [[⬨You love it and want to be the best|Page 99][$reason3 to true]] [[⬨You want the love your mother couldn’t give you|Page 99][$reason4 to true]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>\ You sit there, stewing for God knows how long until he finds you. “Here you are,” Roger says, walking into the courtyard. “Here I am,” you say. He sits down next to you. “Did you talk to your momma?” You nod. He looks at you expectantly. “And…?” <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “And it’s not rainbows and roses for me,” you reply. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “And nothing. It went as expected,” you reply. <</if>>\ “Oh,” he says. You two sit there in silence for a few minutes. He suddenly looks up, “we’re not gonna see each other much anymore.” You want to say you will. That you at least still live in the same country. That you’ll call him every single day. That you’ll give up your plans to go with him. But you know he wouldn’t forgive for that. “No, we’re not,” you lament. [[⬘ Continue|Page 100]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ You sit there, stewing for God knows how long until she finds you. “I was getting scared,” Olivia says, walking into the courtyard. “Still in one piece, doll,” you say. She sits down next to you, hugging your arm. “Did you talk to your momma?” You nod. She looks at you expectantly. “And what happened?” <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “And it’s not rainbows and roses for me,” you reply. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “And nothing. It went as expected,” you reply. <</if>>\ “Oh,” she says. You two sit there in silence for a few minutes. She suddenly looks up, “I know it isn’t the time but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that we won’t see each other anymore.” You want to say you will. That you at least still live in the same country. That you’ll call her every single day. That you’ll give up your plans to go with her. But you know she wouldn’t forgive for that. She’d never speak to you again. “No, we’re not,” you lament. [[⬘ Continue|Page 100*]] <</if>>

<<if $gayr>>\ Roger starts blinking rapidly. He takes your face into his shaky hands. “I’m going to miss you, slick,” he admits. Then he kisses you. Pressing his lips to yours. You can taste his tears. You cup his face too and think about sticking your tongue in his mouth when you hear voices. You break apart as two students walk past you. Roger wipes his nose and waits until they’re gone to kiss you again. He places chaste kisses on your lips for a while. It’s his way of saying things neither of you are ready to say. It’s all just too enormous. So with his kisses, he condenses it to this: //farewell, I love you, farewell, I’ll see you one day.// <<elseif $bisexualmr>>\ Roger starts blinking rapidly. He takes your face into his shaky hands. “I’m going to miss you with all my heart,” he admits. Then he kisses you. Pressing his lips to yours. You can taste his tears. You cup his face too and think about sticking your tongue in his mouth when you hear voices. You break apart as two students walk past you. Roger wipes his nose and waits until they’re gone to kiss you again. He places chaste kisses on your lips for a while. It’s his way of saying things neither of you are ready to say. It’s all just too enormous. So with his kisses, he condenses it to this: //farewell, I love you, farewell, I’ll see you one day.// <<else>>\ Roger starts blinking rapidly. He refuses to look at you as he says in a broken voice, “it’s going to shitty to not see you everyday.” You put your hand on his shoulder, “right back at you.” He lets out a sob and throws his arms around your neck. You smile and hug him back. When you hear voices you two part. Roger wipes his nose. You continue sitting there, in silence, in companionship and solidarity for the childhood that is ending. It’s a silence that says: //farewell, I love you, farwell, may we meet again.// <</if>>\ <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient and $stars == 'starlet'>>\ <<if $model>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-M]]\ <<elseif $radio>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101]]\ <<elseif $theatre>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-T]]\ <<else>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101**]]\ <</if>>\ <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient and $stars == 'star'>>\ <<if $model>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-M]]\ <<elseif $radio>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101]]\ <<elseif $theatre>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-T*]]\ <<else>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101**]]\ <</if>>\ <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101*]]\ <<elseif $college>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101*]]\ <</if>>

<<if $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “Now, to speak for our graduating class is Miss $maiden, a most model student,” Headmistress Phillipa announces. You shake her hand and put your speech on the podium. Adjusting the microphone you look into the audience. Olivia sits up and nudges your mutual friend Ana awake. Olivia smiles brightly at you as if nothing had happened. She looks proud and it tugs at your already guilty conscience. The heat makes sweat run down you face. Do you have stage fright? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 91*][$stagefright to true]] [[⬨No|Page 91*][$nofright to true]] <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “Now, to speak for our graduating class is Miss Malone, a most model student,” Headmistress Phillipa announces. A girl with straw-colored hair goes up to shake the headmistress’s hand and then steps into the stool to reach the microphone. You snort at that and the headmistress gives you a look of warning. Ana starts snoozing and Olivia has to tug her again. Which doesn’t work. You wipe the sweat from your face and impatiently wait for this to be over. Malone starts stuttering as she goes on with her speech. “W-w-we a-are h-here t-t-t-oday t-t-to…” //Kill me now.// Poor girl. Perhaps it’s best that you weren’t valedictorian. As if you could be with your grades but if it were a popularity contest you would’ve won. Do you have stage fright? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 91*][$stagefright to true]] [[⬨No|Page 91*][$nofright to true]] <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ “Now, to speak for our graduating class...,” Headmistress Phillips sighs. You internally smile, she hates this. Your behaviour has been less than stellar, you’ve gotten into more detentions than you have fingers but your grades are phenomenal. “...is Miss $maiden.” When you go up and shake her head she presses it a bit too hard and you try not to whince. You put your speech on the podium. Adjusting the microphone you look into the audience. Olivia sits up and nudges your mutual friend Ana awake. Olivia smiles brightly at you as if nothing had happened. She looks proud and it tugs at your already guilty conscience. The heat makes sweat run down your face. Do you have stage fright? <hr>\ [[⬨Yes|Page 91][$stagefright to true]] [[⬨No|Page 91][$nofright to true]] <</if>>

<<if $Obedient > $Rebellious && $stagefright>>\ An aspiring actress who has stage fright. How ironic. You remember the first time you ever went on stage, you endured it until class was over and vomited in the bathroom. After all these years, you don’t vomit so much but you do get a series of symptoms. Clammy hands, warm ears, nausea and most of all… stuttering. “St. Agnes’ s-school for g-girls is n-not o-o-only a s-school f-for u-us. I-it is a-a-a—” You bite your lip and look away from the words that have grown hazy in your swimming eyes. The crowd seems so far away yet you keenly feel their eyes on you. You search the crowd for a familiar face. You know all these girls. But only one stands out. Olivia sticks up a thumb up in encouragement. She’s mouthing something you can’t make out. But when she sees you’re confused she just makes a heart with her hands, god you’ve been an asshole. You let out a shaky breath and swallow the lump in your throat. You look down at the words written in ink and wipe the sweat from your brow. You force yourself through it. “I-it is a h-home. T-the bonds w-we h-have created h-h-here shall f-follow us for the r-rest of o-our lives…” Your brain wanders and you end up reciting the rest of the speech automatically, without much emotion and so when it’s done you have to speak into the microphone to say you’re done. The crowd slowly claps, Olivia stands up and claps loudly. Headmistress Phillipa claps you on the shoulder, “thank you Miss $maiden for such a… well-enough speech.” You smile awkwardly and go to sit at the back of the stage with the others. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious && $nofright>>\ As if, the stage and audience are like a second home to you. It’s in your blood to raise your voice above the others and not flinch when tens of eyes are on you. It’s rather exhilarating. “When people ask you what your first memories are, what do you say? Perhaps it’s the faces of your parents. A dog you loved or a phobia of clowns that followed you into adulthood. Although, who wouldn’t fear clowns? Frightening little snots aren’t they?” You begin with a smile and the crowd hoots. “Memories shape us. We are a collection of the experiences we’ve had. A single one has made up what we are standing here today under this blazing heat. Take one away and we could vastly change,” you say. You look up and see Olivia following your every move, her eyes glued to you. You don’t even think she’s hearing what you’re saying. “My first memory is of this school. Of my teachers and most of all of my friends who I love dearly. No, the word ‘friends’ isn't good enough. My sisters, who God didn’t not make us blood related but our bond goes deeper than genetics. It touches our very souls…” You continue on without issue and when you finish with, “I hope the memory of this school follows us into womanhood, colouring our lives and that of our children, forever. Perchance, it will mean a better world,” the crowd stands up with roaring applause. Olivia enthusiastically applauds and gets Anna to do it too. You beam at her. Headmistress Phillipa throws an arm around you and says, “good work Miss $maiden. You have made this school proud.” You go to the back of the stage and sit down. <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient && $stagefright>>\ It’s irritating and stupid. What kind of aspiring actress has stage fright? You remember the first time you ever went on stage, you endured it until class was over and vomited in the bathroom. After all these years, you don’t vomit so much but you do get a series of symptoms. Clammy hands, warm ears, nausea and most of all… stuttering. You can easily see yourself in the place of that fool Malone. The sun is too hot, Olivia looks at you with a face you can’t comprehend, but she doesn’t look angry and Malone is taking too damn long. All that is to say that you’re not having such a swell time. When you take off your cap and use your paper achievement to wipe your brow. The girl next to you looks scandalized and you give her a cheeky grin. Taking sweat for your face and flinging it on her. “Gross!” she yells, loud enough to interrupt the speech. Everyone looks back at you and Headmistress Phillipa rushes to the microphone, “a few difficulties with the banquet. I and a student will take care of it.” She pushes Malone forward and then roughly grabs you by the robe, dragging you off the stage. She leads you back to the school. “In all my years of headmaster I have never see a student more irresponsible, rebellious and foolhardy—” You tune out the rest of her lecture because you’ve heard it before. <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient && $nofright>>\ As if, the stage and audience are like a second home to you. It’s in your blood to raise your voice above the others and not flinch when tens of eyes are on you. It’s rather exhilarating. You can easily see yourself in the place of that fool Malone, doing a much better job than she would. The sun is too hot, Olivia looks at you with a face you can’t comprehend, but she doesn’t look angry and Malone is taking too damn long. All that is to say that you’re not having such a swell time. When you take off your cap and use your paper achievement to wipe your brow. The girl next to you looks scandalized and you give her a cheeky grin. Taking sweat for your face and flinging it on her. “Gross!” she yells, loud enough to interrupt the speech. Everyone looks back at you and Headmistress Phillipa rushes to the microphone, “a few difficulties with the banquet. I and a student will take care of it.” She pushes Malone forward and then roughly grabs you by the robe, dragging you off the stage. She leads you back to the school. “In all my years of headmaster I have never see a student more irresponsible, rebellious and foolhardy—” You tune out the rest of her lecture because you’ve heard it before. <<elseif $Obedient >= $Rebellious && $stagefright>>\ An aspiring actress who has stage fright. How ironic. You remember the first time you ever went on stage, you endured it until class was over and vomited in the bathroom. After all these years, you don’t vomit so much but you do get a series of symptoms. Clammy hands, warm ears, nausea and most of all… stuttering. “St. Agnes’ s-school for g-girls is n-not o-o-only a s-school f-for u-us. I-it is a-a-a—” You bite your lip and look away from the words that have grown hazy in your swimming eyes. The crowd seems so far away yet you keenly feel their eyes on you. You search the crowd for a familiar face. You know all these girls. But only one stands out. Olivia sticks up a thumb up in encouragement. She’s mouthing something you can’t make out. But when she sees you’re confused she just makes a heart with her hands, god you’ve been an asshole. You let out a shaky breath and swallow the lump in your throat. You look down at the words written in ink and wipe the sweat from your brow. You force yourself through it. “I-it is a h-home. T-the bonds w-we h-have created h-h-here shall f-follow us for the r-rest of o-our lives…” Your brain wanders and you end up reciting the rest of the speech automatically, without much emotion and so when it’s done you have to speak into the microphone to say you’re done. The crowd slowly claps, Olivia stands up and claps loudly. Headmistress Phillipa claps you on the shoulder, “thank you Miss $maiden for such a… well-enough speech.” You feel like kicking her but you’re more ashamed of your performance to care about that. You smile awkwardly and go to sit at the back of the stage with the others. <<elseif $Obedient >= $Rebellious && $nofright>>\ As if, the stage and audience are like a second home to you. It’s in your blood to raise your voice above the others and not flinch when tens of eyes are on you. It’s rather exhilarating. “When people ask you what your first memories are, what do you say? Perhaps it’s the faces of your parents. A dog you loved or a phobia of clowns that followed you into adulthood. Although, who wouldn’t fear clowns? Frightening little snots aren’t they?” You begin with a smile and the crowd hoots. “Memories shape us. We are a collection of the experiences we’ve had. A single one has made up what we are standing here today under this blazing heat. Take one away and we could vastly change,” you say. You look up and see Olivia following your every move, her eyes glued to you. You don’t even think she’s hearing what you’re saying. “My first memory is of this school. Of my teachers and most of all of my friends who I love dearly. No, the word ‘friends’ isn't good enough. My sisters, who God didn’t not make us blood related but our bond goes deeper than genetics. It touches our very souls…” You continue on without issue and when you finish with, “I hope the memory of this school follows us into womanhood, colouring our lives and that of our children, forever. Perchance, it will mean a better world,” the crowd stands up with roaring applause. Olivia enthusiastically applauds and gets Anna to do it too. You beam at her. Headmistress Phillipa throws an arm around you and says, “thank you for not pulling one of your antics.” You snort. How nice. You go to the back of the stage and sit down. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 92*]]

<<if $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ After the ceremony, you and your friends sit on the field, talking about your plans. Martina is going to get married to one of her father’s friend’s son, Cora got accepted into Mount Holyoke and Anna is travelling the world. <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You miss the rest of the ceremony because Headmistress Phillipa spends thirty minutes yelling at you in her office. You pick at a frayed stitch on your robe while you wait for her to calm down. She eventually does and you’re allowed to go after a ruler to the hands. You’re still rubbing them when you meet your friends on the field, who are talking about their future plans. Martina is going to get married to one of her father’s friend’s son, Cora got accepted into Mount Holyoke and Anna is travelling the world. <</if>>\ Olivia walks up to the group and plops herself down next to you, eating a lemon with sugar. “Where did you get that?” you ask. She spits out a seed into her hand, “the banquet.” You lean in so as to not be heard by others, “so I take it you’re not mad anymore?” “I can never stay too mad at you, Dottie,” she responds. You roll your eyes. “You sound be canonized Saint Olivia.” She nods, grinning bumps your foot. <<if $lesbiano>>\ Making sure the others aren’t looking, you reach over and place your hand atop hers. She spits out more seeds. She quickly makes sure the others are busy and places a small kiss on your finger. “Richmond!” You hastily pull your hand back. “Yes?” Olivia asks. <<elseif $bisexualfo>>\ Making sure the others aren’t looking, you reach over and place your hand atop hers. She spits out more seeds. She quickly makes sure the others are busy and places a small kiss on your finger. “Richmond!” You hastily pull your hand back. “Yes?” Olivia asks. <<else>>\ You bump her foot back and when you exchange smiles that’s all that’s needed to say you’re sorry. “Richmond!” “Yes?” Olivia asks. <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 93*]]

“You’re going to North Carolina for school, right?” Anna asks. “Of course,” she replies, sucking on the skin of the lemon. <<if $Rebellious is 1>>\ “And you’re going to Margaret Morrison, right?” she asks you. By a near miracle. Your academic record leaves much to be desired, the only reason you think you got accepted was because of your track skills, theatre club and because of who your mother is. <<elseif $Rebellious > 1>>\ “And you’re going to Washington Square, right?” he asks you. Your academic record is a mess, NYU is the only school you were able to get into that holds some level of prestige while also desperate to accept kids with familial ties like yours. <<elseif $Obedient is 1>>\ “And you’re going to Bernard, right?” he asks you. It was your second choice, and although that minor loss did sting. It’s still a great school and it fills you up with pride. You don’t like to think your parentage had anything to do with it. <<elseif $Obedient > 1>>\ “And you’re going to Pembroke, right?” he asks you. It was your first choice. Your academic record spoke for itself, and unlike your peers you were accepted quickly. You don’t like to think your parentage had anything to do with it. <<elseif $Obedient is $Rebellious>>\ “And you’re going to Pembroke, right?” he asks you. It was your first choice. Your grades spoke for itself even if your academic record did not, and unlike your peers you were accepted quickly. You don’t like to think your parentage had anything to do with it. <</if>>\ “Yes, why?” Anna shrugs, “isn’t that more than 10 hours by train? I thought you two would go to school together.” You and Olivia exchange glances. You hadn’t talked about that, it was something that both of you seemed to be pushing aside but today you graduated. The future is now. [[⬘ Continue|Page 94*]]

“Telephones, letters and telegrams exist, O’Hara,” Olivia states. “So do planes, we’re not connected at the hip,” you add. Anna shrugs and starts talking to Martina. “However, it is far. If my acting career takes off, I might have to go to Los Angeles which is even further,” you say to her in a low voice. Olivia throws her lemon skin away. “Let’s go see if there’s any dessert left at the banquet, Dottie.” That night, you get a call from your momma. You had… <hr>\ [[⬨Invited her|Page 95*][$invited to true]] [[⬨Not invited her|Page 95*]]

<<if $invited>>\ In spite of the fact that you knew she wouldn’t be able to make it due to her shooting a film in Canada. You did receive a pair of gold earrings with encrusted diamonds and a promise for a call.<<set $Mallory += 1>> <<else>>\ You knew she wouldn’t be able to come anyway because she was shooting a movie in Canada. And frankly, you didn’t want her there all that much. You did receive a pair of gold earings with encrusted diamonds and a promise for a call. <</if>>\ “Hello?” “How is my accomplished girl?! My graduate, my future college woman?” she says excitedly into the phone. “I’m doing good, Momma,” you reply. “Oh, please tell me they took photos! I want one with you in your cap and gown.” “They did. I think they’ll send them to you,” you say. She squeals and you hear clapping. <<if $Mallory > 1>>\ Your lips twitch. It’s hard to be mad at her when she’s so happy, she’s like a child. “And then university in the fall, I think you’ll be the first person and the first woman in my family who gets to go,” she claims. “That’s swell,” you say, trying to seem enthusiastic for her. “And in four years you’ll be a fully educated woman. Which reminds me! What are you studying for? Will I need to call you my little lawyer, doctor, scientist?” she inquiries. You lick your lips, looking around not knowing if you should say what you want to say. What you should say, according to Olivia. The issue is that you know how she’ll take it and she’s paying for your schooling, apartment and food next fall. You love her, and you also love the life she gives you. <hr>\ [[⬨ Tell her you want to be an actress|Page 96**][$truth to true]] [[⬨ Go along with her story|Page 96***]] <<else>>\ You press your lips into a thin line, she sure seems happy for someone who didn’t show up for this ceremony that so supposedly cares about for the child she supposedly loves. “And then university in the fall, I think you’ll be the first person and woman in my family who gets to go,” she claims. “That’s swell,” you say without much heart. You aren’t going to pretend for her. “And in four years you’ll be a fully educated woman. Which reminds me! What are you studying for? Will I need to call you my little lawyer, doctor, scientist?” she inquiries. You lick your lips, looking around not knowing if you should say what you want to say. What you should say, according to Olivia. The issue is that you know how she’ll take it and she’s paying for your schooling, apartment and food next fall. Whatever your problems with her are, her money isn’t inconsequential. <hr>\ [[⬨Tell her you want to be an actress|Page 96**][$truth to true]] [[⬨Go along with her story|Page 96***]] <</if>>\

“Momma, I have to tell you something,” you begin. She stops her prattling, “yes, Muffin?” <<if $Mallory > 1>>\ You gulp and pull on your tassel. “I think maybe I shouldn’t… go to university next fall. I maybe…. it would like to be an actress.” The other end goes dead. You wait for a few seconds, “momma? You there?” She doesn’t respond. You sigh, “I know how you feel about that but I don’t know why. I feel like it'd be a good move for me.” “You’re a kid. What do you know about what’s good for you?” she asks, her voice strained. “Where did this ridiculous idea come from? Who’s been putting these ideas into your head?” “No one! I’m the one who made this choice. What is wrong with wanting to act? You do it and it’s going more than good for you, what’s the difference between you and me?” you ask, your voice rising. “EVERYTHING!” she yells hysterically. “Do you think acting is just getting in front of a camera and reciting lines?!” You dig your nails into your hand, “of course not!” “Then what is it, $bio? Since you think you know it all?” she asks angrily. You throw up your hand, “well now that you’re putting on the spot I can’t very well think of a good answer. You have years of experience, you know more. Happy?” <<else>>\ You prepare yourself for the storm and pull on your tassel. “I don’t want to go to school next fall, I want to be an actress.” The other end goes dead. You wait for a few seconds, “momma? You there?” She doesn’t respond. You sigh, “I know how you feel about that but I don’t know why. I feel like it'd be a good move for me.” “You’re a kid. What do you know about what’s good for you?” she asks, her voice strained. “Where did this ridiculous idea come from? Who’s been putting these ideas into your head?” “No one! I’m the one who made this choice. What is wrong with wanting to act? You do it and it’s going more than good for you, what the hell is the difference between you and me?” you ask, early screaming. “EVERYTHING!” she yells hysterically. “Do you think acting is just getting in front of a camera and reciting lines?!” You dig your nails into your hand, “of course not!” “Then what is it, $bio? Since you think you know it all?” she asks angrily. You growl, “thanks for putting me on the spot! Now I can’t think of a damn thing! It’s not fair you have years of experience, obviously you know more! Happy now?!” <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 97*]]

<<if $Mallory > 1>>\ “No, I'm not happy at all! You’re not going to do this! I prohibit it!” she screams. “You won’t change your mind? Not even if this could make me happy?” you ask, your voice thick. Your mother exhales loudly. “Now you’re trying to make me feel bad. That’s a dirty trick. Muffin, I know what I’m talking about. You’re not doing this and if you do I’m not paying for it.” <<else>>\ “No, I'm not happy at all! You’re not going to do this! I prohibit it!” she screams. “And what if I do it anyway? Since I’m the only one here who gives a shit about my happiness,” you ask, your voice cold. Your mother exhales loudly. “Language, young woman! Now you’re trying to make me feel bad. That’s a dirty trick. Muffin, I know what I’m talking about. You’re not doing this and if you do I’m not paying for it.” <</if>>\ Your blood freezes, “what does that mean?” “It means I’ll cut you off. You’ll have to get a real job like a normal person. No more fancy clothes, no more spending money on your friends or pictures. Nothing,” she threatens. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “Fine I don’t need you anyway!” you yell. “Fine!” she yells back. You slam the telephone down. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You close your eyes and pull from your lips, words that taste acrid like defeat. “Fine, you win.” Your mother sighs, “oh, Muffin. Thank God, you don't know… you just don’t know—” You hear a voice in the background. “What?” your mother yells. The voice says something you can’t make out. “OK!” “Muffin, I have to go. I’ll call you soon, adore you!” she exclaims and hangs up. You put the telephone down slowly. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “Fine I don’t need you anyway!” you yell. Thought your heart panics from the rash decision you are making. “Fine!” she yells back. You slam the telephone down. <</if>>\ You stand there for a few seconds and then… <hr>\ [[⬨Scream into your hands|Page 98][$melt1 to true]] [[⬨Throw the telephone|Page 98][$melt2 to true]] [[⬨Sit down and take a deep breath|Page 98][$melt3 to true]]

<<if $lesbiano>>\ Olivia starts crying softly. She takes your face into her shaky hands. “I’m going to miss you with all my heart,” she admits. Then she kisses you. Pressing her lips to yours. You can taste her tears. You cup her face too and think about sticking your tongue in her mouth when you hear voices. You break apart as two students walk past you. Olivia wipes her cheeks and waits until they’re gone to accept your kisses. She places chaste kisses on your lips for a while. It’s her way of saying things neither of you are ready to say. It’s all just too enormous. So with her kisses, she condenses it to this: //farewell, I love you, farewell, I’ll see you one day.// <<elseif $bisexualfo>>\ Olivia starts crying softly. She takes your face into her shaky hands. “I’m going to miss you with all my heart,” she admits. Then she kisses you. Pressing her lips to yours. You can taste her tears. You cup her face too and think about sticking your tongue in her mouth when you hear voices. You break apart as two students walk past you. Olivia wipes her cheeks and waits until they’re gone to accept your kisses. She places chaste kisses on your lips for a while. It’s her way of saying things neither of you are ready to say. It’s all just too enormous. So with her kisses, she condenses it to this: //farewell, I love you, farewell, I’ll see you one day.// <<else>>\ Olivia starts crying softly. She refuses to look away in shame, “it’s going to be dreadful to not see you everyday.” You put your hand on her shoulder, “right back at you.” She lets out a sob and throws her arms around your neck. You smile and hug her back. When you hear voices you two part. Olivia wipes her cheeks. You continue sitting there, in silence, in companionship and solidarity for the childhood that is ending. It’s a silence that says: //farewell, I love you, farwell, may we meet again.// <</if>>\ <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient and $stars == 'starlet'>>\ <<if $model>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-M]]\ <<elseif $radio>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101]]\ <<elseif $theatre>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-T]]\ <<else>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101**]]\ <</if>>\ <<elseif $Rebellious > $Obedient and $stars == 'star'>>\ <<if $model>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-M]]\ <<elseif $radio>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101]]\ <<elseif $theatre>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101-T*]]\ <<else>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101**]]\ <</if>>\ <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101*]]\ <<elseif $college>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 101*]]\ <</if>>

<h2>1935</h2> <<if $radio && $stars is 'star'>>\ “The weather man’s saying that this winter will be almost as bad as last year’s. So what do you do when you’re shivering and red? Make yourself a nice cup of Hershey's Instant Cocoa Mix. It’s NEW and it’s DELICIOUS… ANYTIME!” You pretend to make slurping sounds into the microphone. “Mmmmm, that hits the spot,” you avow. Your producer gives you a thumb up and you return it. “Alright folks, we’ll leave you with the song that’s been taking the country by storm. Here’s Cheek to Cheek from //Top Hat//.” You take off your head telephone and stretch, leaning back in your chair and clasping your hands above your head. “Golly, that was a good one,” your producer, Mark says. “You know what would be even better?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. He holds up a finger, “no–” <<if $Ego is 1>>\ “Come on! I do a swell job, don't I? I’m the bee’s knees, the best damn host for a college radio show in New York. I would give a performance the likes of Pickford,” you brag. <<else>>\ “Come on! I do a swell job, don’t I? What’s missing from college radio shows of New York are the type of serials other radio shows are doing. I think it’d be able to pull it off,” you beseech. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 102-S]] <<elseif $radio && $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “The weather man’s saying that this winter will be almost as bad as last year’s. So what do you do when you’re shivering and red? Make yourself a nice cup of Hershey's Instant Cocoa Mix. It’s NEW and it’s DELICIOUS… ANYTIME!” You pretend to make slurping sounds into the microphone. “Mmmmm, that hits the spot,” you avow. Your producer gives you a thumb up and you return it. “Alright folks, we’ll leave you with the song that’s been taking the country by storm. Here’s Cheek to Cheek from Top Hat.” You take off your head telephone and stretch, leaning back in your chair and clasping your hands above your head. “Golly, that was a good one,” your producer, Mark says. “You know what would be even better?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows. He holds up a finger, “no–” <<if $Ego is 1>>\ “Come on! I do a swell job, don't I? I’m the bee’s knees, the best damn host for a college radio show in New York. I would give a performance the likes of Pickford,” you brag. <<else>>\ “Come on! I do a swell job, don’t I? What’s missing from college radio shows of New York are the type of serials other radio shows are doing. I think it’d be able to pull it off,” you beseech. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 102-ST]] <</if>>\

<h2>1935</h2> You tap your pencil against the paper, the ticking clock on the wall makes you feel like vomiting. The shuffling of papers, coughs, squirming in seats only add to the feeling of impending doom. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ You studied, you’ve been studying for weeks. Your eyes went crossed with how much you went over your detailed notes. But the boys around you look as if they’re writing quicker than you are. As if they know more and they studied harder. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ You studied, you’ve been studying for weeks. Your eyes went crossed with how much you went over your detailed notes. But the girls around you look as if they’re writing quicker than you are. As if they know more and they studied harder. <</if>>\ //Gosh darnit//, you think. You loosen the death grip on your pencil, don’t want it to break now. You look up at the clock again, an hour left. //Ok $bio. This is fine. You can finish this last paragraph.// <<if $Ego is 1>>\ You will. You gave it your all and the finish line is right there. You aren’t going to stop and cry. You have this, and you’re going to get the highest marks in your class. But, you have to admit... although you’re good, but you’re not the best and that can’t be possible. You were always at the top of your class in school. <<else>>\ The finish is right there and you can’t just stop and cry yet. At least you can try to get a B. A B is safe and although not brag worthy it is enough for now. You’re good, but you’re not the best and that can’t be possible. You were always at the top of your class in school. <</if>>\ You put pencil to paper and push on through your anxieties for this <<cycle '$degree' autoselect>><<option 'law'>><<option 'biology'>><<option 'history'>><<option 'math'>><</cycle>> exam. With 40 minutes left, you hand in your exam and walk out into the cold Eastern air. You stick your face into your scarf and run along the icy walkways towards the dorms. You run into the warm lobby and blow air into your chilly hands. “Hello $bio!” a kid on your floor says. “Hello.” “Nice seeing ya, $bio,” another says. “You too,” you reply. “Are you coming to the party at 1903?” someone else asks. “I can’t tonight, I’m seeing a picture.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 102]]

Since for the first time in your life you had to be independent of your mother, you had no choice but to get a job. How dreadful. You did a few things for a while, worked at a 5 and dime, sold shoes, rodent killer, etc,. Anything to be able to put food in your belly. Eventually you found an ok job as a… <hr>\ <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ [[⬨ Radio host|Page 101][$radio to true]] [[⬨ Theatre performer|Page 101-T*][$theatre to true]] [[⬨ Model|Page 101-M][$model to true]] <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ [[⬨ Radio host|Page 101][$radio to true]] [[⬨ Theatre performer|Page 101-T][$theatre to true]] [[⬨ Model|Page 101-M][$model to true]] <</if>>\

“Hello, what picture are you seeing?” the ticket clerk asks. You look back at the posters bordered by their bright lights. “One ticket to…” <hr>\ [[⬨ Mutiny on the Bounty.”|Page 104][$mutiny to true]] [[⬨ Top Hat.”|Page 104][$hat to true]] [[⬨ The Crusades.”|Page 104][$crusades to true]]

He crosses his arms and starts walking out of the room, you follow him, trying in all ways to convince him. “I’ll take a pay cut just to show you how much I believe in this idea,” you suggest. “People don’t listen to college radio to hear dramas, comedies or anything of the like. They listen to hear music,” Mark claims. You open your arms, “that is only because no one has had the ovaries — pardon my French — to do it. I do!” Mark turns around, “I know you want to act. I get that. But this is a radio show that kids who are underslept, underfed and stressed listen to. Not talent scouts who are looking for the Next Big Thing.” You roll your eyes. He doesn’t understand. You know how the entertainment business works, a bored producer only has to listen to one minute of a radio drama to pluck someone out of obscurity. <<if $lesbiano>>\ Mark checks his watch. “I have to go if I’m going to catch the bus. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. He opens his mouth and pauses for a second before asking, “do you want to come over?” <<set $lesbian to true>> You roll your lips. You’ve tried to make your lack of interest in him and men overall known to the best of your ability without revealing it. But like most men, he doesn’t understand. “No, I have a picture to catch,” you reply. “You’re obsessed,” he states and walks away. <<elseif $lesbian>>\ Mark checks his watch. “I have to go if I’m going to catch the bus. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. He opens his mouth and pauses for a second before asking, “do you want to come over?” You roll your lips. You’ve tried to make your lack of interest in him and men overall known to the best of your ability without revealing it. But like most men, he doesn’t understand. “No, I have a picture to catch,” you reply. “You’re obsessed,” he states and walks away. <<elseif $bisexualfo>>\ Mark checks his watch. “I have to go if I’m going to catch the bus. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. He opens his mouth and pauses for a second before asking, “do you want to come over?” <<set $bisexualf to true>> You roll your lips. Mark lives about 10 blocks away from you, it’s cold and you hate riding buses. He’s also not in your good graces at this moment to warrant sleeping with him. “No, I have a picture to catch,” you reply. “You’re obsessed,” he states and walks away. <<elseif $bisexualf>>\ Mark checks his watch. “I have to go if I’m going to catch the bus. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. He opens his mouth and pauses for a second before asking, “do you want to come over?” You roll your lips. Mark lives about 10 blocks away from you, it’s cold and you hate riding buses. He’s also not in your good graces at this moment to warrant sleeping with him. “No, I have a picture to catch,” you reply. “You’re obsessed,” he states and walks away. <<elseif $straightf>>\ Mark checks his watch. “I have to go if I’m going to catch the bus. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. He opens his mouth and pauses for a second before asking, “do you want to come over?” You roll your lips. Mark lives about 10 blocks away from you, it’s cold and you hate riding buses. He’s also not in your good graces at this moment to warrant sleeping with him. “No, I have a picture to catch,” you reply. “You’re obsessed,” he states and walks away. <</if>>\ It takes you the better part of an hour to make it to 175th street and then to Loew’s theatre, your thin coat doing little to protect you against the onslaught of cold air. Maybe it was a bit too reactive to throw out most of the clothes your mother gave you just to prove a point. But, it felt good at the time. [[⬘ Continue|Page 103]]

“OK! I think we all need to cool down!” Fiona steps up, with nervous eyes. She grabs your arm. “Why don’t $bio and I go take a breather–” “He can take a breather for the rest of the season! You’re out! I don’t want to see you in my theatre until you fix that temperament,” he shouts. “Get a chair while you wait, fat man!” you yell as Fiona drags you off the stage. You throw open the doors and kick a can of something on the ground. It bounces off the opposite wall in the alleyway. Fiona takes out a cigarette and offers you one. When you’re both smoking silently and leaning against the doors of the theatre she asks you, “what are you going to do now?” You suck in and with a mouth full of smoke, say, “not grovel to that bastard. I’ll see what I’ll do when I wake up tomorrow without a job. Tonight I’m going to the pictures.” Fiona lightly touches your arm, “want company?” <<if $gayr>>\ “I’m in a foul mood. I won’t be good company. I’ll call you soon,” you reply and flick your cigarette on the ground. <<set $gay to true>> You’ve tried to tell her in the most obvious ways that women hold no appeal for you. But unless you outright say it, she doesn’t understand. At least you’re not suffering alone, you’ve met many fairies in the theatre business who look like deers caught in headlights when women ask them for a date. <<elseif $gay>>\ “I’m in a foul mood. I won’t be good company. I’ll telephone you soon,” you reply and flick your cigarette on the ground. <<set $gay to true>> You’ve tried to tell her in the most obvious ways that women hold no appeal for you. But unless you outright say it, she doesn’t understand. At least you’re not suffering alone, you’ve met many fairies in the theatre business who look like deers caught in headlights when women ask them for a date. <<elseif $bisexualmr>>\ “I’m in a foul mood. I won’t be good company. I’ll telephone you soon,” you reply and flick your cigarette on the ground. <<set $bisexualm>> You might’ve made a mistake in sleeping with her. You can’t articulate why you did it, perhaps you were lonely and you hadn’t had a relationship with someone who cared for you in 3 years. <<elseif $bisexualm>>\ “I’m in a foul mood. I won’t be good company. I’ll telephone you soon,” you reply and flick your cigarette on the ground. You might’ve made a mistake in sleeping with her. You can’t articulate why you did it, perhaps you were lonely and meaningless sex has felt colder in the winter months this year at least. <<elseif $straightm>>\ “I’m in a foul mood. I won’t be good company. I’ll telephone you soon,” you reply and flick your cigarette on the ground. You might’ve made a mistake in sleeping with her. You can’t articulate why you did it, perhaps you were lonely and meaningless sex has felt colder in the winter months this year at least. <</if>>\ It takes you the better part of an hour to make it to 175th street and then to Loew’s theatre, your thin coat doing little to protect you against the onslaught of cold air. Maybe it was a bit too reactive to throw out most of the clothes your mother gave you just to prove a point. But, it felt good at the time. [[⬘ Continue|Page 103]]

“OK! I think we all need to cool down!” Fiona steps up, with nervous eyes. She grabs your arm. “Why don’t $bio and I go take a breather–” “She can take a breather for the rest of the season! You’re out! I don’t want to see you in my theatre until you fix that temperament. A lady looks uglier when she has such a foul mouth!” he shouts. “Get a chair while you wait, damn fat man!” you yell as Fiona drags you off the stage. You throw open the doors and kick a can of something on the ground. It bounces off the opposite wall in the alleyway. Fiona takes out a cigarette and offers you one. When you’re both smoking silently and leaning against the doors of the theatre she asks you, “what are you going to do now?” You suck in and with a mouth full of smoke, say, “not grovel to that bastard. I’ll see what I’ll do when I wake up tomorrow without a job. Tonight I’m going to the pictures.” Fiona smiles at you, “want company?” You shake your head. “I’m in a foul mood. I won’t be good company. I’ll telephone you soon,” you reply and flick your cigarette on the ground. It takes you the better part of an hour to make it to 175th street and then to Loew’s theatre, your thin coat doing little to protect you against the onslaught of cold air. Maybe it was a bit too reactive to throw out most of the clothes your mother gave you just to prove a point. But, it felt good at the time. [[⬘ Continue|Page 103]]

You hold out your hand. Marty doesn’t pay you any mind and you clear your throat loudly and practically poke his arm with your outstretched arm. “What is it?” he asks. “I don’t pose like an ape in front of the camera because I like you, slick,” you say and open and close your hand. Marty sighs and reaches into his pocket. He drops a few cents into your palm. You count it slowly and your eyes immediately turn into slits. “What is this shit?” “It’s your pay,” he says simply, looking back at his photos. “MY PAY?” you say. “A dollar and 50 cents? I’ve been here for 3 hours!” He shrugs. “Most of the takes will be unusable, you get paid by the amount of takes that will work.” “Since when?!” you exclaim, your mouth hung open in indignation. “Since I told you so, the first day we met. Remember?” he asks. You close your mouth and feel yourself pout. “You’re a real dora.” He ignores you to continue looking at his photos and you instinctively push the table off and the photos scatter on the floor. You then run back to the coat and hold it to your chest, intending to take it as payment. Marty blinks and then bends down to pick them up. “UGH!” you throw up your hands and leave. “See you next week,” he says. “I hate you!” you yell back. In that moment you did, but he had taken your first headshots without payment even if he was a frugal bastard. It takes you the better part of an hour to make it to 175th street and then to Loew’s theatre, your thin coat doing little to protect you against the onslaught of cold air. Maybe it was a bit too reactive to throw out most of the clothes your mother gave you just to prove a point. But, it felt good at the time. [[⬘ Continue|Page 103]]

In response you got a few goodhumored ‘boos’ and jostles. No one truly understands your obsession with pictures, even the most fanatics in your theatre group don’t watch as many movies as you do. You arrive at your door and take off the note attached. //You missed rehearsal, again. If this continues I’ll have to find a replacement. Signed, Mr. Cartwell.// You close your eyes. You were studying when you were supposed to be monologuing Othello. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be kicked out of the theatre club, even if you feel awful about letting your director and teammates down. If you don’t let them down you’ll be letting your mother down. Your mother who has never changed her mind about what she thinks about you acting, your mother who doesn’t know that you’re still acting. Every time you speak on the telephone it gnaws at you that you’re lying to her. <<if $Rebellious >1 >>\ Three years ago you used to be much more defiant. It seems renegating on your desires has turned you complacent. <<elseif $Obedient >1 >>\ Oh how you hate letting anyone down. You throw yourself on the bed in your solitary room and try to banish these dark moods, it ruins the experience if you go to the cinema all blue. <</if>>\ <center>✲</center> <<if $Obedient is 2>>\ You wait outside for your taxi and direct him to 175th street to your favourite theatre in the city. Loew’s theatre. <<elseif $Obedient > 2>>\\ You wait outside for your taxi and direct him to 175th street to your favourite theatre in the city. Strand theatre. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 103]]

The boy hands you a ticket and you're nearly giddy when you step inside the cinema. You get your popcorn, your $snack and water. <<if $mutiny>>The picture is about the crew of a merchant ship overthrowing the captain for his cruelty.<<elseif $hat>>The picture is about a tap dancer starring in a london show.<<elseif $crusades>>The picture is about the marriage of a king with his wife during the third crusades.<</if>> You pay rapt attention to the way the main actors position themselves within a scene. When you’re on a set, you must be able to not only stand in such a way that you seem to be naturally talking to your scene partner but also where the camera can catch you and thus the audience. You pay attention to small gestures: a flick of the wrist, a slight smile, a tilt of the head, crossing of the legs, a sigh or a grumble, the small narrowing of one’s eyes. You whisper under your mouth the way an actor says a line, you say it in different ways and get an odd look from the person sitting next to you. How a kiss is chaste, short and still manages to not shield the faces of the actors. And the voices, oh God, the voices. Your mother only ever speaks like that when she’s on camera. It’s an accent, a cadence, a way of forming words with the larynx, the tongue and the mouth make these beings, these larger-than-life Gods sound as if they’re from everywhere and nowhere. You leave the theatre with a bright smile on your face in spite of the icy cold hitting your pronounced cheeks. [[⬘ Continue|Page 105]]

<<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ Your slight elation dims when you think about returning to your apartment. Your job never paid much and your living standard is proof. There’s a drunk laying against the door and you have to push them aside to get in. The apartment itself is one bedroom and one bathroom. The walls are crumbling, there’s rats in the walls, a permanent smell of mothballs and worrying creaks in the floorboards. Your faded curtains blow in. You close the door behind you and flip on the lamp. Your room greets you exactly as it always has except— “Momma?” <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ Your slight elation dims when you think about returning to your dorm. Your mother’s money has paid for the best room in the college. But it feels so big without someone there sharing it with you. The apartment itself is one bedroom, one bathroom, and a small balcony. The walls are eggshell white, the mattress is new and the air always smells of soap . Your linen curtains blow in. You close the door behind you and flip on the lamp. Your room greets you exactly as it always has except— “Momma?” <<elseif $college>>\ Your slight elation dims when you think about returning to your dorm. Your mother’s money has paid for the best room in the college. But it feels so big without someone there sharing it with you. The apartment itself is one bedroom, one bathroom, and a small balcony. The walls are eggshell white, the mattress is new and the air always smells of soap . Your linen curtains blow in. You close the door behind you and flip on the lamp. Your room greets you exactly as it always has except— “Momma?” <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 106]]

<h2>INTERMISSION — 2008</h2> “Wait, wait, wait,” Fara says. “So why didn’t $artistic want to act?” <<if $stars is 'star'>> Calliope shrugs, “no one really knows. His biographer says it was because he was scared he would always be in his mom’s shadow.” “That sounds like a stupid reason, his mom literally invites him to Hollywood to this big party to schmooze and he decides to get drunk?” Calliope scowls, “he’s not stupid.” Fara bites her lip, “sorry. Of course not. I’m just saying, if my mom was super rich and famous and wanted me to be an actor… well I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” The girl sighs. “I think $artistic had a good reason. Hollywood can be a scary place and maybe he wanted to be a doctor or something.” “Maybe,” Fara concedes, even though she still thinks it’s incredibly dumb of him. People who don’t want shit always get it and people who want it are left eating the shit. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Calliope shrugs, “no one really knows. Her biographer says it was because she was scared she would always be in her mom’s shadow.” “That sounds like a stupid reason, her mom literally invites her to Hollywood to this big party to schmooze and she decides to get drunk?” Calliope scowls, “she’s not stupid.” Fara bites her lip, “sorry. Of course not. I’m just saying, if my mom was super rich and famous and wanted me to be an actor… well I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” The girl sighs. “I think $artistic had a good reason. Hollywood can be a scary place and maybe she wanted to be a doctor or something.” “Maybe,” Fara concedes, even though she still thinks it’s incredibly dumb of her. People who don’t want shit always get it and people who want it are left eating the shit. <</if>> “Anyway they did get into a huge fight about it in 1935,” Calliope says. “Like a really bad fight and that was the last time they talked u–” “ALRIGHT MOVE IT BACK PEOPLE!” an officer yells. Fara and Calliope take several steps back until they’re stuck between a car and a large mob. “Do you want to go to a coffee shop?” Fara asks. “We could get something to eat?” Calliope presses the magazine to her chest and looks longingly at the building. [[⬘ Continue|Page 107]]

Fara bends down to speak to her in a low voice, “the building will still be there. I swear.” Calliope thinks about it but on cue her stomach grumbles and she nods. “Ok.” “So–” <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Wait! So does $artistic ever find out who his dad is? Also, what kind of creep gets a 12 year old pregnant?” Fara interrupts. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Wait! So does $artistic ever find out who her dad is? Also, what kind of creep gets a 12 year old pregnant?” Fara interrupts. <</if>>\ “I’ll get to that. Just wait cause all this is important,” Calliope assures. They push past a few people and start walking down the street. “Ok, so we were on the fact that Mallory was waiting in $artistic’s room.” “Yeah, so $artistic and Mallory start talking…” [[⬘ Continue|Page 108]]

<h2>1935</h2> <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You lean against your wobbly desk, lighting a gasper as your mother picks around your room. She tries not to make a face at the cobweb on the corner, the holes in your bedsheets and the layer of dust on the windowsill. She peeks at your wardrobe and refuses to touch it because it's Rayon. She turns around on her pink heels and seems to not know what to say. “This is where you live,” she says, in a way which should be a question but comes out as a judgment. You tap on your cigarette. “It’s all I could afford since you abandoned me. We can’t all make 150 a year.” Your mother rolls her eyes, “I’m not going to apologize for the money I make, Muffin and it’s not as if you didn’t have a choice.” You blow out a plume of smoke, “a choice? Yes, great choice. Hey, $bio choose between boring lifesucking university or life on the street.” “I maintained myself when I was even younger than you and unlike you I never finished school and in case you forgot, I also had a baby,” she replies with an air of superiority. Or at least that’s what it sounds like to you and you don’t care if you’re wrong because she gets you heated. “A baby you didn’t even raise, Mallory,” you laugh bitterly. She clicks her tongue and pulls out her cigarette. Out of spite you immediately stamp yours out on the raised cracked wood surface of your desk. “What are you doing for work?” she asks. <hr>\ [[⬨ Tell her the truth|Page 109][$truth2 to true]] [[⬨ Make up an outrageous lie|Page 109][$lie2 to true]] [[⬨ Refuse to tell her|Page 109][$refuse2 to true]] <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You fidget with your hands, sitting on your bed as you nervously watch her inspect your room. She looks at the textbooks on your study desk, the perfectly lined shoes near the door and peeks at your wardrobe. You offer commentary — justifications — on why things are way are the way they are. She takes out a gasper and you say, “there’s no smoking allowed.” She shrugs and opens the window. You grab a cup and gesture to it as a makeshift butt dispenser. “This is a nice surprise,” you begin. “I wasn’t expecting you for two more weeks.” Your mother nods and taps her gasper. She leans against your desk, one hand on her hip and an emotionless look in her eye that makes you want to disappear. Her pink heels make her tower over you. “It’s a bit late but I think there’s a restaurant open 5 minutes away by car if you want to eat,” you suggest. When she hums in response your stomach does a flip. “I’m not hungry, I’m on this new diet. Actually, what I want to know is what you’re doing acting in theatre,” she says. Then your stomach seems to fall into the abyss. “W-what?” you ask. She points at you, “you’ve been lying to me, Muffin.” “No, momma, wait! That’s not—” “That’s not what? That’s not what’s happening?” she says and walks closer to you. You have to crane your head back to look her in the eyes. <hr>\ [[⬨ Admit the truth|Page 109*][$truth2 to true]] [[⬨ Lie|Page 109*][$lie2 to true]] [[⬨ Refuse to answer|Page 109*][$refuse2 to true]] <<elseif $college>>\ You fidget with your hands, sitting on your bed as you nervously watch her inspect your room. She looks at the textbooks on your study desk, the perfectly lined shoes near the door and peeks at your wardrobe. You offer commentary — justifications — on why things are way are the way they are. She takes out a gasper and you say, “there’s no smoking allowed.” She shrugs and opens the window. You grab a cup and gesture to it as a makeshift butt dispenser. “This is a nice surprise,” you begin. “I wasn’t expecting you for two more weeks.” Your mother nods and taps her gasper. She leans against your desk, one hand on her hip and an emotionless look in her eye that makes you want to disappear. Her pink heels make her tower over you. “It’s a bit late but I think there’s a restaurant open 5 minutes away by car if you want to eat,” you suggest. When she hums in response your stomach does a flip. “I’m not hungry, I’m on this new diet. Actually, what I want to know is what you’re doing acting in theatre,” she says. Then your stomach seems to fall into the abyss. “W-what?” you ask. She points at you, “you’ve been lying to me, Muffin.” “No, momma, wait! That’s not—” “That’s not what? That’s not what’s happening?” she says and walks closer to you. You have to crane your head back to look her in the eyes. <hr>\ [[⬨ Admit the truth|Page 109*][$truth2 to true]] [[⬨ Lie|Page 109*][$lie2 to true]] [[⬨ Refuse to answer|Page 109*][$refuse2 to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $truth2>>\ <<if $radio>>“If you must know I do a radio show,” you reply. Your mother’s forehead wrinkles, “I thought you were going to act.” “Many actors do radio plays,” you say defensively. “Why does it concern you? Why are you here?” <<set $Mallory += 1>> <<elseif $theatre>>“If you must know I do theatre,” you reply. Rather, did theatre but she doesn’t need to know that. Your mother’s nose wrinkles, “I never liked it. Singing and dancing like a street performer.” <<set $Mallory += 1>> “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” you say defensively. Why does it concern you? Why are you here?” <<elseif $model>>“I’m a mannequin,” you reply. <<set $Mallory += 1>> Your mother’s eyes widen, “you pose nude for a cameraman?” “What the heck are you talking about?” you ask defensively. “Nevermind that. Why are you here?” <</if>>\ <<elseif $lie2>>\ “If you must know, I do stag pictures,” you reply nonchalantly. “YOU DO WHAT?!” your mother shouts. You put a finger to your kisser and smile, “I have neighbors, Mallory.” “DID I PUT YOU IN CATHOLIC SCHOOL FOR NOTHING?! WHO ARE YOU HAVING SEX WITH?!” she asks. A snort escapes your mouth, “now you’re acting like a mother.” She sputters a few words and then opens the window. You tilt your head, “what are you doing here?” <<elseif $refuse2>>\ “None of your damn business,” you reply. Your mother purses her lips and you see she wants to retort but miraculously she sucks on her gasper and says nothing. “Why is it of importance to you? What are you doing here?” <</if>>\ She looks up at the ceiling and it impresses you how much like a little girl she looks like. Your mother is what? 34? Her cold baths, face creams and lite cosmetic work make her look your age. “I want to give you money,” she admits. You almost choke, “what?” A pink blush spreads on her already rouge cheeks, “I don’t like thinking of you in this situation. I want to help.” You feel an excitement spread in your chest. You could get out of this rathole. Not having to eat bread all the time. Maybe even afford a better winter coat. But then another thought plagues your mind that kills that hope. Your eyes narrow, “what’s the catch?” This time her eyes lower down from the ceiling, “I want you to go to university, get a degree and work a normal job.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 110]]

<<if $truth2>>\ You close your eyes and roll your lips. “Ok. Yes. I have been acting but it’s not—” Your mother turns away from you and faces the window. You feel a deep well of shame. How could you do this? She’s giving you all and this is how you pay her back? “I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I’m very sorry.”<<set $Mallory += 1>> <<elseif $lie2>>\ You have to force it out. “It’s not true. I don’t know where you got that information from but I promise it’s a lie.” “You’re telling me the school Dean and your theatre director are liars?” she asks and turns away from you toward the window. You feel a deep well of shame. How could you do this? She’s giving you all and this is how you pay her back? “Yes,” you say feebly. You know how weak your duplicity is but you can’t tell her. <<elseif $refuse2>>\ You roll your lips and look at the floor. “You aren’t going to tell me the truth? Not even deny? I didn’t think you would be like this,” she states and you see her feet turn to face the window. You feel a deep well of shame. How could you do this? She’s giving you all and this is how you pay her back? <</if>>\ “I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that I wanted you to not act,” she says angrily. “What about my conditions don’t you understand? Why can’t you go to school, get a degree and a normal job? Why this bullheadedness?!” she asks exasperated. “I don’t know,” you choke out. “I can’t help it.” She bends down and puts her hands on your knees. Her mouth is pursed in anger but her eyes are desperate as you feel. “You don’t know what that world is like. The things you have to sacrifice, the things you have to become to rise above the rest. Can’t you see I know more than you? Can’t you see what I’m trying to do?!” she asks, her voice pleading. You grab her hands. “Tell me.” She looks down at your hands and shakes her head. “Muffin, I want you to stop this or I will not keep giving you money for you to throw it away by acting,” she says. [[⬘ Continue|Page 110*]]

<<if $stars is 'star' & $Ego is 1>> Your nostrils flare, “can’t you just give me the money?! I’m your son! I deserve it!” <<elseif $stars is 'star'>>\ Your nostrils flare, “can’t you just give me the money?! I’m your son! Do you want me to starve?!” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'& $Ego is 1>> Your nostrils flare, “can’t you just give me the money?! I’m your daughter! I deserve it!” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your nostrils flare, “can’t you just give me the money?! I’m your daughter! Do you want me to starve?!” <</if>> Your mother smirks mockingly, “weren’t you the one who wanted to be an adult? Do things your own way? Now that it isn’t all you dreamed of, you want to have your cake and eat it too. I’m not going to give you handouts anymore.” “Those weren't handouts! That was what you had to do as my mother for fuck’s sake!” you yell. “Don’t you dare speak to me that way!” she yells back in a shrill voice. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” you scream. Your mother covers her ears and starts humming. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” you keep going. “ENOUGH!” she shouts and covers your mouth. You still speak behind her mouth even though it comes out unintelligible. “Can’t you just do what I ask? Why is this so hard for you?” You slap her hand away. “Why is it so hard for you to accept what I want?!” “Because what you want will never happen! You won’t ever be as good as me and you’re imbecile to think otherwise!” she blurts out and her eyes widen, she puts her hand to her mouth. [[⬘ Continue|Page 111]]

“So that’s the reason! You think I’m not as good as you! Where’s that Academy award, momma? Let me see it!” you explode. “I didn’t mean that,” she says feebly. <<if $bad>>\ “Oh right!” you laugh, “you don’t have one! And it’s not because Casima Wayne hates it which she likely has good reason to but it’s because you’re a two-bit actress who offers nothing to the art of acting except being a pretty dumb floozy! Is that why you got pregnant so young? Because you couldn’t keep your legs closed and my father knew that's why he left you!” <<elseif $cool>>\ “Maybe instead of disparaging my abilities, you should work on yours because from the recent reviews I would say you’re not much better off than I am,” you say, calming down. “Your life is a disaster, so don’t come here and pass judgement on mine. It started when you slept with a man who left you and it continues on till this day.” <<elseif $normal>>\ “You know something? I’m not going to try. I know you, you get selective amnesia and always forget these fights because that’s just how you are. This one won’t matter. In a week you’ll be calling me to tell me something stupid and frivolous,” you claim. “You can’t let yourself get angry, maybe it started when my father left you.” <</if>> Your mother’s eyes water and she rushes to the door. <<if $bad>>\ “That’s it! Just leave, that’s your specialty!” you rage. <<elseif $cool>>\ “Goodbye, Mallory.” <<elseif $normal>>\ “As always,” you say in a bored tone. <</if>>\ Your mother wretches the door open and then looks back at you. Tears stream down her face but the look in her eyes is cold. “I never want to see you again.” And you just can’t help yourself, can you? <hr>\ [[⬨ “Right back at you!”|Page 112][$res1 to true]] [[⬨ “I hate you!”|Page 112][$res2 to true]] [[⬨ You smile pettily|Page 112][$res3 to true]]

She sniffs and slams the door shut. You rub your face and light another gasper. You are going to need a hell of a lot more to make it through the night. You sit on the windowsill and look up at the stars, so little do they shine through the plumes of smoke. [[⬘ Continue|Page 113]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>> And oh, you so want to please her. To be her perfect son. To have her parade around like her prized possession. To not make her feel as if she made a mistake in having you. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>> And oh, you so want to please her. To be her perfect daughter. To have her parade around like her prized possession. To not make her feel as if she made a mistake in having you. <</if>> But for the first time in your life. You find that there is something stronger than your desire to make your mother love you. “I can’t, momma,” you say softly. She moves her hands out of your grasp and stands up. She picks up her purse and starts walking to the door. <<if $cool>>\ Things will be distant now as it was after that interview when you were 15. You feel your heart ache already with the notion that you won’t hear much from her. <<elseif $bad>>\ Your relationship has only ever gotten this bad after that interview when you were 15. You want to get on your knees and beg for her forgiveness, retract what you said. <<elseif $normal>>\ You try to soothe your wounds by thinking about the fact that your mother always comes around. She has selective amnesia with your disagreements, the few times they’ve existed. She will be here for Christmas, she promised you and it’ll be true. <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 111*]]

She opens the door and then looks at you over her shoulder. “I’ve never been more disappointed in you than I am now, $bio.” <hr>\ [[⬨ “Momma, please don’t go,” you beg.|Page 112*][$res4 to true]] [[⬨ “I’m sorry.”|Page 112*][$res5 to true]] [[⬨ You say nothing.|Page 112*][$res6 to true]]

Her lips tremble and she closes the door, right behind her. You press your hands to your chest and can’t stop yourself from letting your tears fall. You did not beg on your knees when she was here but now you do fall to your knees. You catch a glimpse of the stars in the sky. They shine so bright on you, you can’t help but feel their scorn. [[⬘ Continue|Page 113]]

<h2>1935</h2> “Dear Ha'wy is so fwightfully earnest!” “Again.” “Dear Ha'wy is so fwightfully earnest!” “NO. Again.” “Dear Ha'wy is so fwightfully earnest!” “TRY!” “Dear Ha'wy is so fwightfully earnest!” “Goddamnit!” “Dear Ha'wy is so fwightfully earnest!” <<if $stagefright>>\ You wipe your sweaty hands on your trousers. Are your nerves affecting your acting? You reread your lines over and over again last night to prevent your fear from manifesting so prominently. No, you’re sure it’s not this. He just hates you. <<elseif $nofright>>\ You reread your lines over and over again last night, you know what you’re supposed to do to perfection. No, you’re doing it badly in his eyes because he just hates you. You straighten up and look at Mr. Collins, the director. “I did the way you asked.” The bespectacled man sits there with his overflowing gut and cigarette idly held in his stained fingers. “If you did I wouldn’t be listening to that abomination of a line reading.” You grit your teeth, “it’s six words. How many ways can you say six damn words?” “Well you’re not saying it the right way and don’t use that language, girl!” he exclaims. “Speaking of language I got some colorful language I’d like to give to you,” you snap. His eyes widen and he gets up, angrily stamping out his cigarette. “Don’t test me, girl. I gave this role out of kindness. But if you keep up with that attitude you’re out of the show.” <<if $Ego is 1>> You snort, “you gave me the role of the cousin! As if you did me a favour. Wanna do me a favour! Give me the role of Elizabeth! I’m better than any of the bozos you got here! Than I’ll consider kissing that tab of lard you call an ass–” <<else>>\ You snort, “you gave me the role of the cousin! As if you did me a favour. Wanna do me a favour! Give me the role of Elizabeth! Than I’ll consider kissing that tab of lard you call an ass–” <</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 102-ST*]] <</if>>\

<h2>1935</h2> The snap of the bulb might blind you if this keeps going. You blink as it goes off and hold your hand in front of your face. “Marty, how many more shots of me in this coat do you need? If I start getting the shakes I’ll bill you the hospital receipt,” you threaten. Marty, peers out from behind the camera and looks you up and down. “I’m done.” You sigh, “thank God.” You throw off the coat unceremoniously and consider picking it up but it’s not your responsibility, you’re here to make a coat look desirable. <<if $Ego is 1>>\ You put on your own coat and walk towards him as you tie it. Marty is looking at a series of stills he’s taken of other —not as attractive as you — people. <<else>>\ You put on your own coat and walk towards him as you tie it. Marty is looking at a series of stills he’s taken of other people who rival you in attraction. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 102-S**]]

<h2>1935</h2> “Very well, Miss Ba.” “Again.” “Very well, Miss Ba.” “NO. Again.” “Very well, Miss Ba.” “TRY!” “Very well, Miss Ba.” “Goddamnit!” “Very well, Miss Ba.” <<if $stagefright>>\ You wipe your sweaty hands on your trousers. Are your nerves affecting your acting? You reread your lines over and over again last night to prevent your fear from manifesting so prominently. No, you’re sure it’s not this. He just hates you. <<elseif $nofright>>\ You reread your lines over and over again last night, you know what you’re supposed to do to perfection. No, you’re doing it badly in his eyes because he just hates you. You straighten up and look at Mr. Collins, the director. “I did the way you asked.” The bespectacled man sits there with his overflowing gut and cigarette idly held in his stained fingers. “If you did I wouldn’t be listening to that abomination of a line reading.” You grit your teeth, “it’s four words. How many ways can you say four damn words?” “Well you’re not saying it the right way!” he exclaims. “Well I have some four words I’d like to say to you,” you snap. His eyes widen and he gets up, angrily stamping out his cigarette. “Don’t test me, boy. I gave this role out of kindness. But if you keep up with that attitude you’re out of the show.” <<if $Ego is 1>>\ You snort, “you gave me the role of the butler! As if you did me a favour. Wanna do me a favour! Give me the role of Browning! I’m better than any of the bozos you got here! Than I’ll consider kissing that tab of lard you call an ass–” <<else>>\ You snort, “you gave me the role of the butler! As if you did me a favour. Wanna do me a favour! Give me the role of Browning! Than I’ll consider kissing that tab of lard you call an ass–” <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 102-S*]]

<h2>January 1st 1936 - 2:37 am</h2> The final coherent thought of a person a second away from an oncoming disaster can be anything really. For her, it was a pair of brown eyes. <center>✲</center> //Several hours later// <<if $Rebellious > 1>>\ When you awoke that morning it was with a splitting headache. You were angry last night and decided to mix that feeling with alcohol. You must add that to the series of bad decisions you had been making since you last saw your mother 2 weeks ago. Rubbing your eyelids you got up and splash cold water on your face. You look at yourself in the mirror and say: “You’ve looked better.” You hear a fervent banging on your door and covering your yawning mouth, you open it. There stands your neighbour, Ray. Part-time shoe-shiner and full-time boozer.You plug your nose at the rancid smell of whiskey coming off of him. His bloodshot eyes blink at you. “Kid, did you say your momma was real big?” You give him a quizzical look. “What’s that you?” He hiccups. “Nothin’ I just thought I heard somethin’ on the radio at Pete’s.” You follow him with your eyes, he stumbles down the hall and slumps against the door of his room. You shake your head and close the door. Throwing yourself back on the bed. <<elseif $Obedient > 1>>\ When you awoke that morning it was with swollen eyes. You hadn’t slept well. The only sign that you had fallen asleep at all was the light drool on your pillow. The stress of the holidays had ruined your schedule. In the 2 weeks since you saw your mother last, everyday has felt worse. Rubbing your eyelids you got up and splash cold water on your face. You look at yourself in the mirror and say: “You’ve looked better.” You hear a fervent banging on your door and covering your yawning mouth, you open it. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ There stands your next door neighbor, Bart. “Hello,” you say politely. He swallows before saying, “have you heard?” Your eyebrows arches, “heard what?” Bart nods once and then scratches the back of his head. “What is it?” you ask. He opens his mouth, seems to regret it and just walks away. “Bart?” you ask, and follow him with your eyes. He quickly goes back into his room and you hear the door lock. Strange. You close the door and continue making yourself presentable. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ There stands your next door neighbor, Bertha. “Hello,” you say politely. She swallows before saying, “have you heard?” Your eyebrows arches, “heard what?” Bertha nods once and then scratches the back of her head. “What is it?” you ask. She opens her mouth, seems to regret it and just walks away. “Bertha?” you ask, and follow her with your eyes. She quickly goes back into her room and you hear the door lock. Strange. You close the door and continue making yourself presentable. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 114]]

<<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ You finally do manage to convince yourself to get up and confront the icy winter outside when your stomach grumbles. You dig in your pockets and find enough coins for a decent breakfast. You throw on your thin coat and walk towards Pete’s Diner. You feel a bit blue for some reason. You need some quick contentment and so when you arrive, you ask for <<cycle '$brekkie' autoselect>><<option 'eggs'>><<option 'a sandwich'>><<option 'panckes'>><<option 'bacon'>><</cycle>>. “Comin’ right up, kid,” Pete says. You sit down at the booth and notice a discarded newspaper left on the seat. “Pete? Is this today’s?” “Yes!” he yells from the back. You unfurl it and stick a cigarette in your lips. You’re about to light it when you see the front page. There’s a grainy photo of a car overturned in a field. ''STARLET FEARED DEAD, CAR CRASH'' Your stomach drops and somehow, deep within you, you know why. You quickly scan the article. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You snuggle yourself in your cashmere scarf as you walk to the cafeteria. Your mind is preoccupied with what you’re going to do when the semester is over. Your mother paid for the whole scholastic year but come summer you’ll need to look for a job. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ When you push open the door Ron Collins rushes up to you. “$bio!” You take a step back, “yes?” He hands you a newspaper. “Read.” You take it and unfold it. The headline reads: ''STARLET FEARED DEAD, CAR CRASH'' Your blood slows within you. You walk past him and sit down at one of the tables. Ron and a couple of other boys crowd around you. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ When you push open the door Roxanne Collins rushes up to you. “$bio!” You take a step back, “yes?” She hands you a newspaper. “Read.” You take it and unfold it. The headline reads: ''STARLET FEARED DEAD, CAR CRASH'' Your blood slows within you. You walk past her and sit down at one of the tables. Roxanne and a couple of other girls crowd around you. <<elseif $college>>\ <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ You snuggle yourself in your cashmere scarf as you walk to the cafeteria. Your mind is preoccupied with what you’re going to do when the semester is over. Your mother paid for the whole scholastic year but come summer you’ll need to look for a job. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ When you push open the door Ron Collins rushes up to you. “$bio!” You take a step back, “yes?” He hands you a newspaper. “Read.” You take it and unfold it. The headline reads: ''STARLET FEARED DEAD, CAR CRASH'' Your blood slows within you. You walk past him and sit down at one of the tables. Ron and a couple of other boys crowd around you. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ When you push open the door Roxanne Collins rushes up to you. “$bio!” You take a step back, “yes?” She hands you a newspaper. “Read.” You take it and unfold it. The headline reads: ''STARLET FEARED DEAD, CAR CRASH'' Your blood slows within you. You walk past her and sit down at one of the tables. Roxanne and a couple of other girls crowd around you. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 115]]

<<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “In the early hours of New Year’s Day, the world renowned Miss Mallory Skylark and companion were found by local police in Anaheim after a call from an anonymous source,” you read. “It remains unclear as of yet, the reason for the incident. Miss Skylark was taken to a nearby hospital under grievous conditions. According to a hospital employee, the starlet’s condition makes doctors fear for the worst–” You stop reading and take the cigarette out of your mouth. You feel as if you have only sat there for a few minutes but Pete comes over with your breakfast. The savoury aroma seems to wake you up. Pete looks down at you with worry, “is everything ok? I did ‘em to your liking.” “It’s fine,” you say mechanically. Pete doesn’t look convinced but he doesn’t press further. You lay your hands flat on the table and you feel… <hr>\ [[⬨ Numb|Page 116][$griefn to true]] [[⬨ Tears|Page 116][$grieft to true]] [[⬨ Rage|Page 116][$griefr to true]] <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “In the early hours of New Year’s Day, the world renowned Miss Mallory Skylark and companion were found by local police in Anaheim after a call from an anonymous source,” you read. “It remains unclear as of yet, the reason for the incident. Miss Skylark was taken to a nearby hospital under grievous conditions. According to a hospital employee, the starlet’s condition makes doctors fear for the worst. Mallory Skylark is an industry titan, known for her roles in //The Lovers, Dancing on the St. Mary, Philomena// and many others.” Some of your friends avoid your eyes and others look at you with sympathy that makes you feel ashamed. You don’t want to be a bother. But you’re also entering a state of uncertainty. What do you do now? “You should call your family,” someone says. “Of course,” you reply. As you walk to the telephone you try to understand the emotion blooming within yourself. You feel… <hr>\ [[⬨ Numb|Page 116][$griefn to true]] [[⬨ Tears|Page 116][$grieft to true]] [[⬨ Rage|Page 116][$griefr to true]] <<elseif $college>>\ “In the early hours of New Year’s Day, the world renowned Miss Mallory Skylark and companion were found by local police in Anaheim after a call from an anonymous source,” you read. “It remains unclear as of yet, the reason for the incident. Miss Skylark was taken to a nearby hospital under grievous conditions. According to a hospital employee, the starlet’s condition makes doctors fear for the worst. Mallory Skylark is an industry titan, known for her roles in //The Lovers, Dancing on the St. Mary, Philomena// and many others.” Some of your friends avoid your eyes and others look at you with sympathy that makes you feel ashamed. You don’t want to be a bother. But you’re also entering a state of uncertainty. What do you do now? “You should call your family,” someone says. “Of course,” you reply. As you walk to the telephone you try to understand the emotion blooming within yourself. You feel… <hr>\ [[⬨ Numb|Page 116][$griefn to true]] [[⬨ Tears|Page 116][$grieft to true]] [[⬨ Rage|Page 116][$griefr to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $griefn>>\ You feel as if your veins have chilled. Your body is merely upright due to sheer habit. Your footsteps hit the ground but the sound is far away. You can’t feel the snow hitting your face. Your body moves without much thought. Your mind is blank. And the world has gone quiet. <<elseif $grieft>>\ You rapidly blink. You don’t want to cry in public. It would garner attention that you don’t want. You can’t bear to be asked the usual questions because you can’t bear to say the truth. Your throat closes up and even the cold air of the outside does nothing to alleviate the tight coil in your stomach. A few slip down your cheeks and freeze. <<elseif $griefr>>\ You want to hit something or someone. But why? For what? You don’t know. You just feel as if some injustice has happened to you. You need to take it out and nothing would feel better than violence. The snow falling from the sky does nothing to cool your growing explosion. Your body shakes with the amount of bent up wrath. You're stomping, knocking into people to get them out of your way. <</if>>\ Not knowing who your mother’s friends are, you decide to call the house anyway. You count the seconds it takes for someone to answer. It takes long, you start thinking that no one is there because why would there be? But eventually someone picks up the line. “No one in Miss Skylark’s life will be making a statement. We’d ask reporters to respect our privacy.” “Franky?” you say. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Mr. $lastname! Is that really you?” he asks. “I read the paper. What happened? Why wasn’t I called?” “Mister, I’m sorry, with everything it slipped my mind–” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Miss $lastname! Is that really you?” he asks. “I read the paper. What happened? Why wasn’t I called?” “Miss, I’m sorry, with everything it slipped my mind–” <</if>>\ “Being her next of kin I need to be there–” “Yes but you must know–” “If she needs a blood transfusion I should be—” “$bio!” he yells, making you stop short. You hear him sigh and then he says, “you need to come to Los Angeles as soon as you can. Your mother… she isn’t waking up.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 117]]

You don’t know what to do with your hands. Is that stress? It began on the airplane. You began to feel acutely aware of your physical existence and state of being. It bothered you so much you began fiddling your fingers. Tapping them on things. It persisted as you landed in the city. As you walked out to be greeted by Franky who looked disheveled, with his bloodshot eyes, messy hair and unkept uniform. He wasn’t wearing his cap. He came up to you, grabbed your suitcase and hugged you. You aren’t used to hugs but before you could react he had moved away. “Where is she?” you asked. “They’re keeping her in LA Country General,” he said with a soft voice. It persisted as Franky drove you quickly though the streets, he barely looked at the cars that honked at him. You drive down that amazing street you saw six years ago. How different that ride felt from this one. You rub your eyes, you had to change airplanes multiple times and so you’ve barely slept. You hear screams and you immediately pull your head out the window. You’re greeted by a gigantic crowd on the steps of the hospital. Franky honks at the crying girls in front of the car. People start banging on the car and you have to roll up the window. People point at you and try to pry the window down. You hear your name on their lips. //They know who I am.// [[⬘ Continue|Page 118]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>\ Franky bangs on the steering wheel but the crowd doesn’t disperse. He looks over at you, “Mister, we’ll have to leave the car here.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Franky bangs on the steering wheel but the crowd doesn’t disperse. He looks over at you, “Miss, we’ll have to leave the car here.” <</if>>\ He gets out first and pushes past people who grab onto his blazer. He roughly pushes the ones near your window away and holds out a hand to you. <<cycle '$frankyh' autoselect>><<option 'You take it'>><<option 'Get out yourself'>><</cycle>>. The screams come in full force when you step out. You hear your name, your mother’s, you hear cries and exclaims. Franky shoulders the crowd as they seek to touch your hair, your clothes and you feel their hands on your behind. Their voices scream in your ear. When you see a girl sitting on the ground, her face in her hands with a friend hugging her, you finally understand who these people are. They’re fans. Then you see what many are holding up. Pictures of your mother, headshots and stills from her movies. Magazine spreads and posters. “$bio! I’m your mother’s biggest fan! Can you get me in?!” a woman yells into your face. “Stay back!” Franky replies angrily and tries to shield you with his arm. Meanwhile you act… <hr>\ [[⬨ Kindly|Page 119][$kind to true]] [[⬨ Reserved|Page 119][$reserved to true]] [[⬨ Disgusted|Page 119][$disgusted to true]]

<<if $kind>>\ Your smile feels like plastic on your face but you throw it around like merchandise. That makes the crowd even more rabid for you. In a way, it feels almost good to be so wanted. Your dazzling smile in the face of tragedy must seem inspiring. The excellent dental service you’ve had during your life is paying you back. Is it so bad to feel so good? <<elseif $reserved>>\ You look forward, maintaining your gaze on the building itself. You pretend that the screams, jostles and touches don’t faze you. You’re dignified and untouchable like a monarch. You seem to be standing strong in the face of adversity and that is wholly commendable. Your poker face has finally shown itself. Maybe you’re damned for feeling pride at this moment. <<elseif $disgusted>>\ Who do these people think they are? They come here like animals trying to pick at the skin and bones of the dead. They believe that just because your mother is famous and you’re her $son that you belong to them. Don’t they see how pathetic they are? You scowl at anyone who makes eye contact with you. You can’t but feel superior to them all. <</if>>\ The ordeal ends and you’re welcomed into the quieter space of the main lobby, although the screams can still be heard through the doors. A few people sit on chairs, in varying degrees of distress. Their eyes watch you pass by and they whisper among each other. Franky puts his hand on your shoulder blade and guides you along the corridors. The stench of chemical cleaners makes you nauseated. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Mister, I want to warn you on what you’re about to see,” he says, “the crash was very bad. The doctors have worked on her for hours and she’s better than she was but I do wish for you to brace yourself.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Miss, I want to warn you on what you’re about to see,” he says, “the crash was very bad. The doctors have worked on her for hours and she’s better than she was but I do wish for you to brace yourself.” <</if>> You nod. You arrive at the room and Franky slowly opens it. Taking a deep breath you follow him inside. [[⬘ Continue|Page 120]]

At first, you don’t recognize what you’re seeing. A giant monstrous white chamber lies in the middle of the room. It has windows and circular holes with metallic knobs. Your mother’s body has disappeared within it, only her head is free, sprouting from the chamber like a being created by Lovecraft. Her luscious blond hair is hidden underneath the bandages around her head. You walk closer and see the bruising along her face, the stitches on her lips. Her eyes are closed and deep bags grow under them. Inside the chamber her body is mostly hidden under a white sheet. But her arms are encased in casts and one of her legs looks thicker than the other. “What is this thing?” you ask. “They call it an iron lung. Supposed to help with breathing,” Franky informs. You look over at him and he’s slumped in a chair. His eyes begin to water and he fiddles with his nails. He doesn’t glance up as you sit on the chair beside him. <hr>\ [[⬨ “What exactly happened?”|Page 121]] [[⬨ “Who was she with?”|Page 121*]] [[⬨ “Do you know when she’s going to wake up?”|Page 121**]] [[⬨ “Did she say anything about me since we saw each other last?”|Page 121***]] [[⬨ “Is this the best hospital?”|Page 121****]] [[⬨ “What happens now?”|Page 121*****]] [[⬨ Sit in silence|Page 122]]

“She had gotten into a fight with a studio executive and they fired her,” he says. “She was so angry and started drinking, and calling all her friends. She gave me the night off and promised me she was going to sleep.” Franky’s face is wracked with guilt. “I think they were going to San Diego and there was a sharp turn or maybe an animal walked out onto the road. The car swerved and they blew through the railing, the car rolled down a hill–” he cuts off and covers his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry I can’t say more about that,” he weeps. <hr>\ [[“Who was she with?”|Page 121*]] [[“Do you know when she’s going to wake up?”|Page 121**]] [[“Did she say anything about me since we saw each other last?”|Page 121***]] [[“Is this the best hospital?”|Page 121****]] [[“What happens now?”|Page 121*****]] [[Sit in silence|Page 122]]

You don’t know how long you two sit there. Listening to the whirring of the machine, the article breathing. Sometimes you hear footsteps outside, nurses most likely. One of them pokes her head into the room and asks how you two are doing before leaving. You… <hr>\ [[⬨ Try to sleep|Page 123][$sleep to true]] [[⬨ Pace|Page 123][$pace to true]] [[⬨ Go to her|Page 123][$her to true]]

“I don’t know,” he replies. “She had been seeing someone for the last few weeks but she kept it secret.” “How did they know she was with someone?” you inquire. Franky sniffs, “she was found in the passenger’s seat and a cufflink was found.” <hr>\ [[“What exactly happened?”|Page 121]] [[“Do you know when she’s going to wake up?”|Page 121**]] [[“Did she say anything about me since we saw each other last?”|Page 121***]] [[“Is this the best hospital?”|Page 121****]] [[“What happens now?”|Page 121*****]] [[Sit in silence|Page 122]]

He tries to wipe at his tears and gives you a sorrowful look, “no. The doctor said that she hit her head very hard. It’s a miracle she’s still alive but they don’t know when she’ll awake.” <hr>\ [[“What exactly happened?”|Page 121]] [[“Who was she with?”|Page 121*]] [[“Did she say anything about me since we saw each other last?”|Page 121***]] [[“Is this the best hospital?”|Page 121****]] [[“What happens now?”|Page 121*****]] [[Sit in silence|Page 122]]

Franky shakes his head. “I don’t know, maybe she spoke about you to someone. She never said anything to me, she didn’t tell me she was going to see you. I’m sorry I can’t give you more.” <hr>\ [[“What exactly happened?”|Page 121]] [[“Who was she with?”|Page 121*]] [[“Do you know when she’s going to wake up?”|Page 121**]] [[“Is this the best hospital?”|Page 121****]] [[“What happens now?”|Page 121*****]] [[Sit in silence|Page 122]]

“Why?” “She should receive better care if it isn’t. Regardless of what—” you sigh. “She has enough money to afford the best care imaginable.” <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ He assents, “don’t you worry, Mister. This is the best hospital in the state.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ He assents, “don’t you worry, Miss. This is the best hospital in the state.” <</if>>\ <hr>\ [[“What exactly happened?”|Page 121]] [[“Who was she with?”|Page 121*]] [[“Do you know when she’s going to wake up?”|Page 121**]] [[“Did she say anything about me since we saw each other last?”|Page 121***]] [[“What happens now?”|Page 121*****]] [[Sit in silence|Page 122]]

“I have no idea,” he admits. <hr>\ [[“What exactly happened?”|Page 121]] [[“Who was she with?”|Page 121*]] [[“Do you know when she’s going to wake up?”|Page 121**]] [[“Did she say anything about me since we saw each other last?”|Page 121***]] [[“Is this the best hospital?”|Page 121****]] [[Sit in silence|Page 122]]

<<if $sleep>>\ But the chair isn’t comfortable and you find yourself waking up many times. At a certain point you manage to sleep enough where you open your eyes and Franky’s coat is thrown over you like a blanket. You watch as he stands near your mother, lightly caressing her head. <<elseif $pace>>\ Back and forth you go. You don’t know what you’re expecting to happen but your body feels too awake to do anything but move. You count your steps to fill your mind with anything to feel as if you’re doing something useful. You hardly notice when Franky gets up to get food for you. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Happy New Years Sir.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Happy New Years Miss.” <</if>>\ “Happy New Years, Franky.” <<elseif $her>>\ You drag your chair over to her and examine her. She looks so delicate here. You’re used to your mother being a goddess, an otherworldly creature whose beauty is unnatural. But here, she looks far too human thus unlike your mother at all. You reluctantly lay your hand on her head. <<if $haircolor is 'blond'>>\ She would be devastated to see the state of her famous hair. <<else>>\ She would hate to know that her true roots will come in very soon without the aid of dye. <</if>>\ “She loved you,” Franky says. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s leaned forward with his hands dangling from his knees. “She wasn’t perfect, but she really loved you more than anyone,” he swears, an acute expression on his face. You look back at her and <<cycle '$hospital' autoselect>><<option 'kiss her hand'>><<option 'continue stroking her hair'>><</cycle>>. <</if>>\ “Happy New Years, Momma,” you whisper into her ear. [[⬘ Continue|Page 124]]

“No!” Franky exclaims. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “I forgot the part where you're his father,” Don retorts. “I don’t need to be his father to think this is a bad idea and that you’re using him for your own schemes,” he responds. “He isn’t a child! Why don’t we let him decide?” Don suggests. The men look towards you, sitting in front of them on the couch. A pillow hugged to your stomach. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “I forgot the part where you're her father,” Don retorts. “I don’t need to be her father to think this is a bad idea and that you’re using her for your own schemes,” he responds. “She isn’t a child! Why don’t we let her decide?” Don suggests. The men look towards you, sitting in front of them on the couch. A pillow hugged to your stomach. <</if>>\ You’re in your mother’s home. The last few days have been chaotic to say the least. You haven’t been able to step a foot outside the gates without being hounded by the paparazzi. You can’t turn on the radio without hearing laments for your mother. The theatres are playing her pictures. A fan managed to climb over the fence and proceed to bang on the front door. This house feels alien without her here, this never was your home and feels less so now. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “Well thank you for finally remembering that I’m here,” you say sarcastically. <<if $stars is 'star'>> “Mister, you don’t have to–” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>> “Miss, you don’t have to–” <</if>>\ “Why not?” you ask. “Everyone is waiting for someone to say something. I would look awfully horrible if I didn’t say a few words for my mother.” Don smiles, “you see? This is what I call business-sense.” “I’m not doing this for you. It simply needs to be done,” you respond with a grimace. Don holds up his hands in surrender but his slimy smile gives you a twinge of annoyance. Franky comes over to you and bends down. “Those people are vultures, they will pick at everything you say, turn you into a caricature for their amusement.” “Let me. I want to get this damn thing over with,” you respond and stand up, walking towards the pool. <<if $stagefright>>\ You try to ignore the tightening of your stomach. A speech. A public speech. Everyone’s eyes will be on you. You should drink ginger tea beforehand. <<elseif $nofright>>\ You close your eyes and breathe in. <</if>> <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “If it needs to be done, then I’ll do it,” you acquiesce. “You don’t have to. We can get someone else to speak to make a statement. I could do it,” Franky offers. “Mr. Margolis, would it really be best if I do it?” you ask. Don nods, “you’re her child. The only family she has and it would look bad on her and you if you leave it to the help.” “I’m not the help,” Franky replies sternly. Franky comes over to you and bends down. “Those people are vultures, they will pick at everything you say, turn you into a caricature for their amusement.” You give him a faint smile, “it’s going to be ok, Franky. I’ll be fine.” You stand up and walk towards the pool. <<if $stagefright>>\ You try to ignore the tightening of your stomach. A speech. A public speech. Everyone’s eyes will be on you. You should drink ginger tea beforehand. <<elseif $nofright>>\ You close your eyes and breathe in. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 125]]

Don informs you that the journalists will be here tomorrow before leaving to call some favours. Franky sits with you in the living room and you listen to the radio. He manages to find a station that isn’t talking about your mother. Calm jazz colours the house and your mind. You look at Franky who hasn’t looked worse in his life. Has he showered since the day of the accident? You tap your pencil against the paper. It’s been staring blankly at you for the past hour. What can you say about her that hasn’t already been said more eloquently? Strangers seemed to have known your mother better than you ever did. <hr>\ [[⬨ Ask Franky for help|Page 126][$franks to true]] [[⬨ Do it alone|Page 126]]]

<<if $franks>>\ “Franky?” you ask. “Could you tell me things about my mother?” Franky pulls on his tie and looks at nowhere. “She was very fun. She liked noise, excitement and laughter. You got the sense that she loved being alive.” You start jotting his words down. “But she wasn’t selfish with it. She wanted you to have fun too, that’s what I thought the parties were for. It was so stars could let go of all they had on their shoulders and be free for a night. She was beautiful. Many people thought she would sit in front of the mirror for hours but that wasn’t true. She was born looking angelic,” Franky muses. His eyes have a faraway look and his lips curve into a wistful smile. He kept going and you managed to get a rough draft before dinner. <<else>>\ What did you know about her? She acted. She loved it. She was always on top of the latest trends and she liked socializing. That’s it. You bite on your pencil each time you write a sentence and don’t know how to continue. This occurred too many times to count. You end up with a rough draft that looks as generic as if a futuristic machine with no feelings had written it. <</if>>\ Came time to eat, there came more visitors to the house. They had been showing up to offer laments, gifts and gawk at you. Yesterday a telegram from Mexico arrived, sent by Greer. //Terribly sorry to hear what happened. I hope it hurts less each day, little lamb. I would find it delicious to seeing you again. Greer.// <<if $talkg>>\ You don’t know how to feel about that term of ‘endearment’. If that is how he meant it. <<else>>\ Little lamb? Where did that come from? You can’t recall if you ever spoke to him. <</if>>\ Magenta Way sent flowers. A man named Jack Harlow called the house, and Franky talked to him. He gave his condolences and said he would like to meet you one day. “Why?” you asked. Franky shrugged. “Your mother liked his music.” This night a singular man came to the door. Franky let him in to see you. He’s pale, with unkempt black hair and he wears a blazer two sizes too big for him, a white button-up shirt and grey slacks that need ironing. His big eyes look tired and the look on his face gives the impression that he’d rather not be here. “Hello,” you say. The man clears his throat, “yes. Hello. You must be the progeny.” [[⬘ Continue|Page 127]]

You arch an eyebrow, “if you mean Mallory’s child then yes. How are you?” <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Mister, this is Ashley Booker,” Franky informs you with a smile. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Miss, this is Ashley Booker,” Franky informs you with a smile. <</if>>\ That name sounds familiar. It’s supposed to mean something but you can’t remember where you saw it. <<if $Rebellious > $Obedient>>\ “I don’t know who you are,” you say bluntly. <<elseif $Obedient > $Rebellious>>\ “I’m sorry, I don’t recall,” you say kindly. <</if>>\ “No matter,” Ashley says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. Once he hands it to you he turns to leave. <hr>\ <<if $Ego is 1>>\ [[✪ “I deserve enough respect to be said goodbye to.”|Page 128][$egoa to true]] [[✸ Snarkily say goodbye|Page 128][$ba to true]] [[✩ Say thank you|Page 128][$ta to true]] [[☄ Sincerely say goodbye|Page 128][$ga to true]] <<else>>\ ==“I deserve enough respect to be said goodbye to.”== [[✸ Snarkily say goodbye|Page 128][$ba to true]] [[✩ Say thank you|Page 128][$ta to true]] [[☄ Sincerely say goodbye|Page 128][$ga to true]] <</if>>\

<<if $egoa>>\ “That’s earned.” <<elseif $ba>>\ “‘Bye $bio, it was really nice to meet you.’” “Thanks, Mr. Booker, you too.” <<elseif $ta>>\ “Thank you for coming and thank you for the envelope.” <<elseif $ga>>\ “Goodbye, Mr. Booker.” <</if>>\ You open the envelope and pull out a candid shot of your mother. She has her hair in rollers and is looking away, an unlit cigarette in her hand and a toothy smile on her face. You’ve never seen her so… relaxed. You decide to <<cycle '$photo' autoselect>><<option 'put it in your pocket'>><<option 'leave it on the table'>><</cycle>>. That night you have strange dreams of fast cars, tunnels and smoke. When you wake up, Don is already here and he’s brought a team of specialists. They work on your face, your clothes and look over your speech, recreating you anew where they need to. You’re plucked, pulled, stretched and grasped like a doll. When they finally lift a mirror to your face you can hardly recognize yourself in the coats of makeup they have you in. [[⬘ Continue|Page 129]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>\ You had seen men with products caked on their face before, but it felt strange to poke at your cheek and see powder coating your finger. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ Your eyeshadow was a dark green to match the black lipstick. You looked like a figure in a circus. “The cameras catch it better,” they told you. <</if>>\ While Don’s people went around the house tidying it up, you sat on the couch and looked over the speech. Trying to make the words sound natural. Don lit a cigar and sat opposite you. Each time you looked up, he was staring at you. It made you raise the speech higher to cover your face. Soon enough you heard the gate open and a stream of tires on the driveway. You stand up and dust off imaginary dust mites from your clothes. Don goes to the front door and you hear him boom, “welcome! Welcome! Come in!” Franky slides up to you and whispers, “are you alright?” You nod, “I’m the cat’s meow.” <<if $stagefright>>\ But you were lying through your teeth, your stomach had been in knots all morning. <<elseif $nofright>>\ For it was true, your public speaking skills were sharp after years in the theatre. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 130]]

A group of men with their cameras in their hands and around their necks come bustling in. They all seem to speak in unison for you can’t disconcert a single word they say. You notice a single woman to the side, a notebook in her hand. Don gestures to you, “come here $bio! Let them see you.” You walk forward and one of the camera guys asks, “who the hell is that?” Franky’s eyes narrow and he looks as if he wants to shove him away from you. Don laughs and throws an arm around your shoulder, “why can’t you see the resemblance? Come on boys, don’t you remember the adoption?” <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ The men murmur amongst each other and the one who originally spoke, says, “right, right. Sorry for that Sir. That article was from many years ago.” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ The men murmur amongst each other and the one who originally spoke, says, “right, right. Sorry for that Miss. That article was from many years ago.” <</if>>\ <hr>\ [[Call out the disrespect (diva)|Page 131][$diva to true]] [[Let it go with a smile (charmer)|Page 131][$charmer to true]] [[Nod and invite the men to get comfortable (sophistication)|Page 131][$sophistication to true]]

<<if $diva>>\ “You knew you were here to hear the statement from the family. You always know I’m the only family my mother has. You’re in my home now, so shut your trap unless it’s to say condolences for my recent loss. Understand?” you say pointedly. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ The man looks at you appraisingly, as if he hadn’t truly seen you before. He seems to be the leader as the others start to take a liking to you too. “A man who’s firm,” he says and takes a snapshot of you. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ The man laughs condescendingly and nudges his colleague. He seems to be the leader because the others start snorting. “You’re cute little girl,” he says and takes a snapshot of you. The female reporter rolls her eyes. <</if>>\ <<elseif $charmer>>\ “We all make mistakes, gentlemen. Please, make yourselves at home and if you’re in need of anything just say the word. Mi casa is your casa,” you reply with sickly-sweet kindness. The man smiles and begins taking quick shots of you. <<elseif $sophistication>>\ “That’s quite alright. Please, sit down and let’s begin,” you reply. The men all exchange glances and the man who spoke to you shrugs and sits down. The others follow and the female reporter continues standing. <</if>>\ You flatten the speech on your lap and clear your throat. The cameras begin going off in different directions and it’s very hot. You wipe your hands on the couch and speak. <<if $franks>>\ “My mother was an incredible creature. You would see her and wonder how such a beautiful woman could exist. You could only hope to ever be in the same vicinity as her, much less have the privilege to speak with her. She had a way about her that made you feel as if you were the only person in the world. With her, you felt special and listened to. People mistake her as only being a pretty face but she had a gift few could ever do. She could make you cry, laugh, love, scream, live. In the most painful day of your life, you could watch her on the screen and she would make it better like a mother. How powerful must she be to have that ability without ever meeting most of the people who watch her pictures? Oh, the times she would visit me and we would lay down a picnic blanket under the stars. She would embrace me and tell me all about her life. I would tell her about my childhood shenanigans and her laugh was like hearing an angel. She gave so much to the world in the short time she’s been here. But she is not gone. Akin to an Amazonian warrior, she will wake up one day and true to form act as if she had taken a short snooze. Don’t lament that she is gone, rejoice that she will return. My mother was one-of-a-kind.” The moment you finish you’re nearly blinded by the flashes of the cameras. You have to blink rapidly to be able to see. You look down at your lap for reprieve and <<cycle '$sheet' autoselect>><<option 'find tears on your sheet'>><<option 'see where you tore at the paper'>><</cycle>>. <<else>>\ “My mother was named Mallory Skylark and she still is. She was an exceptionally pretty woman and a memorable actress. The world has lost a mother for the foreseeable future and I ask that you respect the privacy of the family in this difficult time.” You look up and the paparazzi look confused. “Is that all?” the woman reporter asks. “Yes,” you respond. “Oh– alright!” the lead male reporter says and starts snapping his camera, the rest follow suit. You’re nearly blinded by the flashes of the cameras. You have to blink rapidly to be able to see. You look down at your lap for reprieve and <<cycle '$sheet' autoselect>><<option 'find tears on your sheet'>><<option 'see where you tore at the paper'>><</cycle>>. <</if>>\ [[⬘ Continue|Page 132]]

<<if $stars is 'star'>>\ //“Mr. $lastname! When do you think your mother will wake up?” “$lastname! What will you do now with your mother’s affairs? Do you plan on staying in Hollywood?” “$bio! Now that there’s a spot in the heavens are you going to take your mother’s place as one of the stars?” “— the driver was?” “Will you seek medical–”// <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ //“Miss $lastname! When do you think your mother will wake up?” “$lastname! What will you do now with your mother’s affairs? Do you plan on staying in Hollywood?” “$bio! Now that there’s a spot in the heavens are you going to take your mother’s place as one of the stars?” “— the driver was?” “Will you seek medical–”// <</if>>\ “Alright boys and girl, that’s enough now!” Don says cheerfully. “If you want $bio to answer more questions, call my secretary.” He starts ushering them away but many stay grounded and take multiple shots of you. Franky has to start getting a bit tough with them to push them out the door. Once he closes and closes the front door, you hear the questions continue. A headache begins behind your eyes and you lay your head back. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Mister, do you want some ice? A tea?” Franky comes over and asks. <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Miss, do you want some ice? A tea?” Franky comes over and asks. <</if>>\ “Some silence would be nice,” you reply. [[⬘ Continue|Page 133]]

Franky nods in understanding and leaves to do whatever chores he has. You cover your eyes with your hand and breathe. You feel the spot next to you dip and smell the strong stench of Don’s perfume. <<if $franks>>\ “How did you do that?” he asks. “Do what?” “Say all that. You barely knew the woman but you made it sound as if you were the best of chums,” he says. You shrug. “I got help from Franky.” <<else>>\ “That was a terrible speech,” he says. “I know,” you sigh. “But you did it. How the hell did you do it?” “Do what? Write a lacklustre speech? It wasn’t that hard.” <</if>>\ “I don’t mean that. I mean the feeling behind the words. If I didn’t know better I would have said she was the best mother in the world,” Don says. You peek out from under your fingers, “is that not what I was supposed to do?” He nods excitedly. “YES! And no! I didn’t think you had it in you kid. But oh boy, you proved me wrong. Your acting was top-notch. I knew you did some theatre work but you actually convinced me.” He pats his chest. <<if $ability is 'you have talent but you need more practice'>>You had practiced endlessly your craft to get this result.<<elseif $ability is 'you have talent'>>As if this was news to you.<<elseif $ability is 'are you positive you want to act?'>>You were pretty lousy, maybe some real emotions escaped?<</if>> [[⬘ Continue|Page 134]]

You give him a puzzled look. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Don gets up and claps his hands, a big smile on her red face. “Because I know a star when I see one! I saw it in your momma and I see it in you.” He grabs your hand and pulls you up. Before you can move away he grips your shoulders and leans in. Thinking he’s going to kiss you, you prepare to hit him across the kisser. But he stops mere inches away and his foul breath invades your senses as he speaks, “you wanna act?” <<audio "fame" loop play>>\ “Of course. But I don’t know–” “SWELL!” He moves you in front of him and guides you out the door. He leads you to the railing that overlooks the city. <<if $stars is 'star'>>\ “Because, kid, this city will be eating outta the palm of your hand. I could make you the greatest actor this city has ever seen!” <<elseif $stars is 'starlet'>>\ “Because, kid, this city will be eating outta the palm of your hand. I could make you the greatest actress this city has ever seen!” <</if>>\ You see the bright ambition in his eyes. You survey the city and you think about your mother, stuck in that cold chamber in dreamless sleep for who knows how long. What will she think when she wakes up and sees your name in lights? <<if $reason1>>\ But your mother’s image disappears and is replaced by you. Holding up an Academy Awarded, lauded in a way she never was. <<elseif $reason2>>\ But your mother’s image disappears and is replaced by you. Just you, going about your life the way you want to without restraints. <<elseif $reason3>>\ But your mother’s image disappears and is replaced by you. Hundreds of eyes enthralled by your sheer ability on a soundstage. Unable to see $bio within the folds of the character. <<elseif $reason4>>\ But your mother’s image disappears and is replaced by you. You’re surrounded by thousands of adoring fans who offer you all of themselves willingly for nothing in return. You’re filled with it. <</if>>\ And so you... <hr>\ [[Shake his hand|Page 135][$shake to true]] [[Say, “no. Make me the greatest star this world has ever seen.”|Page 135][$seen to true]] [[Smile|Page 135][$smile to true]]

<<if $shake>>\ “I’ll provide the management,” he says. “I’ll provide the face,” you say. <<elseif $seen>>\ You look away from him and take in the city. Your city. <<elseif $smile>>\ And take in what will one day be yours. <</if>>\ <<audio "fame" stop>>\ <h2>END OF DEMO</h2>