“I now present to you… James and the Giant Peach!” I heard the principal’s footsteps recede offstage, just past the curtain that blocked my view. This was it. Was I ready? Well, I had to be. I was in my spot, right in the center of the stage. Exactly where I was supposed to be. We had rehearsed this many times over. 

“It’s just like another rehearsal,” I told myself, trying to shake off the nervousness that was taking hold of me. Behind the curtain, it was dark, and that darkness was beginning to press in, suffocating. Just then, the curtain began to rise. As the light shining under the curtain flooded the room, I thought back to where it all started…

“Everyone has to help with the play somehow.” My friend was informing me about the details of the play, as we had just watched the 6th graders perform it. I knew that we would have to perform it next year, but I never realized that assisting in the play might be mandatory.

 Dismayed, I responded, “Well, I guess I’ll have to work on t-shirt design or something.” Oh, how wrong I was. 

One year later, the teacher was passing out envelopes to each person in the class. This was happening in each 6th-grade class at the same time, with each student being handed an envelope. Within each envelope were the student’s name and their role in the play. You could almost feel the tension in the air as everyone awaited the call to open their envelopes and view their results. I, for one, was extremely nervous. I twiddled my thumbs, thought about other things, talked to people nearby; none of it could avert my thoughts away from the contents of the envelope. A few weeks before, I had tried out for the play(It was called “James and the Giant Peach”). To this day, I don’t know why I convinced myself to audition. I guess I just figured that I would rather act than work on creating a t-shirt. I did all I could to prepare myself for the audition, and it went great! However, many others performed strongly as well, so I was still worried. 

Presently, the teacher finally called out above the hubbub: “Alright, you may open your envelope.” By now, most everyone in the grade knew who had tried out in the audition. In each class, people of interest(people who were thought to have a good chance of getting the lead role) were encircled by those who wanted to see if the person had gotten the part. I, myself, was being watched as I slid open the letter. I slowly pulled at the piece of paper within. The paper was slightly revealed, and I could read my name at the top. Suddenly I couldn’t wait any longer. I yanked at the paper, tearing it out. Below my name was my role. One word. James. I nearly fell out of my chair.

 I could faintly hear someone exclaim “Wow! He got the part!” For a second everything seemed quiet as if someone had hit the mute button. I tried to contemplate what I had just read. A few seconds later, it all(well, most of it) came to me. The noise returned as I stood and exclaimed, 

“Yesss! I got the lead role!” The rest of the day was a blur; I think the bell rang, and I stumbled out of the classroom, no doubt with a look of awe and disbelief still on my face. Almost immediately, everyone knew I was cast as James. On my way to my locker(which couldn’t have been more than 20 feet away from the classroom door), I was congratulated by a ridiculous number of people, though I was still trying to process my achievement and was barely able to comprehend who each person was, and I was too overwhelmed to respond to most of them. 

I half-ran, half-skipped outside to meet my mom, who was picking me up after school. I still had that stupid dumbstruck look of awe and happiness on my face. 

As I approached, my mom asked “Well? Did you get the part?” I stopped and looked at her for a moment, trying and failing to change my expression. 

“Mom, with this look on my face, is there really any doubt?” 

After a few months of preparation and training, I felt ready. I could remember my lines, hit all my notes, and could(mostly) remember the choreography. Practicing alongside many of those who had auditioned, I was better at acting, singing, and dancing than I had ever been before. There was just one problem. I suspected I had minor stage fright. I had never had problems with performing in front of large crowds before, but that was likely because, in the past, I had either performed with a group or in front of a small audience. Now, I would be alone at center stage, with a massive crowd of people all fixated on me. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind of those thoughts. Tonight was the night, and I had done all that I could. I was sitting in the cafeteria, surrounded by many supportive friends. The plan was to wait in the cafeteria until the crowd was seated and the lighting was set up, then send us, the actors, onstage just before the curtain opened. Almost the entire 6th grade was in the cafeteria, and I was reminded of the time a few months ago when the “envelopes of fate” were handed out. Similarly to that time, the tension in the air was almost tangible. This, of course, didn’t help my nerves. I tried to lose myself in the conversation at the table, only to realize that the conversation had turned to the play. I tried to mute it out and looked around. Everywhere people were crowded around lunch tables and conversing. Everyone had to compete with the general hubbub in the room in order to be heard, and the noise suddenly seemed almost deafening. I was thinking about heading outside to get a breath of fresh air when a teacher entered the lunchroom. Suddenly it was dead quiet. All heads turned toward the teacher. From through the door that the teacher had opened, we could faintly hear the murmur of the crowd within the auditorium. The teacher closed the door behind her, probably to prevent the crowd from hearing her. Then she exclaimed, 

“Alright, everyone! We’re on!” There was suddenly a scramble as those who were needed onstage(including me) quickly stood and began to head towards the backstage doors. As I said goodbye to those at the table and turned away, someone behind me said, 

“Break a leg, James!”

 I responded politely over my shoulder, something along the lines of “Thanks!” but internally I shuddered. I think that was when I fully realized the true importance of my role; everyone was counting on me. If I failed to deliver, everyone else would look worse as a result. The play itself would be ruined. I had already comprehended the effect of failure on me as an individual; my social status driven into the ground, my title as “actor” stripped away. But I had never really stopped to think about the effect of my failure on others(thinking back, that was ridiculously selfish of me). Forcing these thoughts into the deepest, darkest corners of my mind, I carefully eased open the backstage door and quietly advanced towards center stage. Taking my place, I mentally prepared myself for what was to come. Just then, I heard the clacking of high heels as the principal advanced to the middle of the stage just past the curtains in front of me. The noise ceased. All was silent. Finally, the principal began to speak, presenting the play to the audience.

Presently, I was forced out of my reverie by the blinding stage lights shining directly into my eyes, having been revealed by the rising curtain. My eyes finally adjusted to the light, and I saw the audience for the first time. The auditorium was completely packed, but not one person spoke. All eyes were on me. Once again, the tension in the air was nearly unbearable, as everyone waited for me to say something, do something. This was when I finally realized something very important; 

I

Wasn’t 

Scared.

Not even in the slightest. I felt ecstatic and powerful, brave and indestructible. I felt… alive. I very well may have felt better at that moment than at any other moment in my entire life. The piano began to play; that was my cue to begin singing my solo. I began to lose myself in the acting, my thoughts aligning with those of James as I eased into my role. Finally, with the whole crowd watching, waiting, anticipating,

I

Began

To 

Sing.