It was my birthday. I’d gotten a text from my friend and a call from my dad before 8 a.m. He asked:

“Was mom crying?”

“No, well…I don’t know.”

“Yes she was. She was crying before you got up. We were having a harder time of it then you were.”

It was just my birthday…even though I was turning eighteen. Maybe they were crying because they couldn’t use me as tax write off anymore.

In the hall I had gotten the Chili’s happy birthday song sang to me at least twice, and by second hour, twice again. (Luckily it was madrigals, so almost everyone was on pitch.) That was also the hour I got a sparkly rose.

On the tag it read: “We love you! Love, Mom & Dad”

I couldn’t remember the time I had gotten anything from both of my parents together. It was just a little red rose with some white budded flowers around it, but I would have gladly received that little red flower over two dozen roses from them separately.

-: -: - : -

It’s amazing how much can be lost in a single phone call.

-:-:-:-

“Come over here tonight. We’re going to have a eat junk food, life sucks, dye Brittany’s hair party.”

It was a relief to have an outlet. She had another friend over, a girl I’d never even met before, yet us three girls spent the whole night talking and laughing in Brittany’s freshly painted ruby red room. We talked about moving out, we talked about guys, we talked about girls, we talked about inside jokes, we talked about parents, we talked about vacations, we talked about school, we talked about moving, and everything in between. We chowed down on gummy worms and rotated a laptop between us, and didn’t see fit to sleep until the sun started creeping out again – and even then our eyes were more tired than our voices.

I woke up at 11 the next day, and quietly started gathering my stuff. “Do you feel better?” She asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

And I did - because knowing someone cares makes all the difference. We hadn’t known each other for even a year, but we were there for each other in a way most people weren’t – that was certainly something to feel better about.

-:-:-:-

They always say that either your senior year will be stressful, or fun. However, I’m sure in the Guide To Life there would be at least three options:

Your senior year will be:

a)Fun
b)Stressful
c)Both
d)Neither (because you’ll be dead)

Ok let’s leave out option d, that’s a little too morbid…

Anyway – it seems my senior year is turning out to be option c. There are of course the various spats and or fights with close friends, the ten page senior paper, various other complicated homework assignments, and then there was les miz. My senior project was turning into a way to unleash my creativity and finally concentrate on something I cared about.

I had been slaving away at the sets for two weeks. They had been constructed from the ground up, and from there everything had to be painted. I was in charge of sidewalls, brick detailing, store signs, various props, and luckily I somehow conned my sister into helping me. The stage moms were in the back among the scattered costumes while they were constantly sewing alterations, and we were painting even as they were onstage practicing at dress rehearsal. Luckily we did get some encouragement from the kids who noticed our painting and loved it, whether it was a sincere compliment or a fake gun pointed at our head. Kim was constantly thanking me for a job well done, but all of a sudden - it was opening night.

We barely ad any idea of what was going on. Rebecca was helping us stage manage, and we had to hide under the bridge by Jean Valjean’s bed just to get away from all the confused question asking cast. We scanned through the script and made as many notes as we could. Meanwhile, the audience was filing in. What most people don’t know about plays is that sometimes, they’re being put together even as the actors are performing.

The lights went off, the actors went on. We didn’t know which way the curtain went on and when, we took too long of a break while moving pieces off in one scene, and the CD skipped a couple of times. We were on edge the whole night, though we did find it comforting to laugh or dance offstage with each other while we weren’t needed.

The truth is, I hadn’t wanted to be on the stage crew at all. I figured it would be boring, monotonous, annoying…and I was contemplating not even sacrificing that for my own play But somehow, by the end of the show, everyone was happy. We had friends climbing onstage to congratulate us, and I found myself becoming attached to the kids I’d barely even gotten to know. We had all somehow moved to center stage, and our conversations were something like this:

Me: What are you guys doing here! Aaah!!

Skyler: Jordan, grey suits you well, my friend…

Me: Jon, you did such a good job! (hugs)

Jon: The sets look amazing! (hugs back, bouncing up and down from

excitement/happiness)

Kent: I have a band aide, on my neck…

Me: Would you like me to get it off?

Kent: OWW!!

Skyler: Oh my gosh, you know what Kati should do…

Me: See, Maddy and Cameron should get married, because they’re

Kids would look the same…

Cameron/Maddy: Shutup!!

Kent/Noah:It’s true, they do look the same!

Skyler: Carly! I didn’t know you died! I was sad!

Becky: Where do we get the programs? Does anyone know?

Lauren: Do you want to just jack some?

Becky: Yeah, let’s jack some.

Lauren: This sure beats watching Annie in Mrs. Coon’s class, huh?

Becky: Oh my gawd, YES.

Jordan: You ladies, did an AWESOME job, I mean, the sets…

Lauren: Thanks! You did too – nice, hair…

Jordan: Ughh feel it, it’s so gross! (hugs)

Lauren: I don’t even know you! (hugs back)

Skyler/Maddy/Lauren: Kati, just DO IT! Do it Kati!! Oh my gosh!! uncontrollable fits

of laughter

Jordan: Kati…(smiles and grabs Kati, takes lame picture)

the most uncontrollable fit of laughter to ever take place on

earth)

Kim was crying. Rebecca was crying. There were many tears amid the laughter and hugging and shouting. I didn’t want to leave everything behind just yet….Jon had told us so many times how great our painting job was. Cody thanked us over and over again for fixing his vest. Kent and I convinced Cameron we were related because we could both pop out our shoulder blades. It was too much fun, and it was over way too soon.

Oh wait, it’s only opening night.

-:-

The next two nights came and went. There was a finale of emotion on closing night as Kim said goodbye to all the seniors. We had all held hands before the play and vowed that it wasn’t the end, as all the set moms, teachers and directors wished good luck to the kids they'd help raise that wouldn't be in a play for them again. I actually got to sit and watch the final performance, and after the show I hugged Kim as she brushed the tears out of her eyes and said - “hello sweat pea, thank you so much – you did such an amazing job. What a wonderful project to get hitched onto!

“I know,” I said. “ And don’t worry, Kim – when we’re all famous I’m going to make Les Miz again, and we’ll have a huge recasting.”

“Ohh, listen to you.” She was crying even harder now. “ You’re going on to do great things!” She said.

What started out as something I didn’t really want to be a part of had ended up making me want it even more in the end. At first it had felt as if I didn’t belong with kids like these, yet I ended up finding my niche right in the middle of it all. I did know that it wasn’t really over, and that we were going on to do great things.

And so help me, when I’m a famous movie director, I’m going to be in Les Miserables this time.

-:-:-:-