talk while my mom finished up the masterpiece that was my head full of curls.
The director called for a cast meeting out in the audience area, so I sat in the back, hoping no one could see my tear-stained face. At this point, everyone but me was in full hair, makeup, and costume. I had zero stage makeup on, and I hadn’t even considered changing out of the sweatpants in which I was taking refuge.
After the meeting adjourned, I stayed out in the audience seats to calm my anxieties. You know what you are doing, you have been rehearsing for months, just do what you always do. After a moment of self-talk, I knew it was time for me to buckle down and get ready.
Back in the dressing area, I struggled and tugged to get on my dirty and ripped tights, dress, and cardigan on so I could portray a disheveled orphan. To complete the look, I smeared stage makeup and brown face paint all over my face.
Through the small curtain hiding me from the theater, I could hear the people trickling in. As ready as I would ever be, I began my “pre-show rituals” with my best friend. Then the cast prayed together before we all got into positions for the show to start. My place was in between two bunk beds, each with three “orphans” on it.
Praying was all I could do while waiting for the director to finish his welcome speech and the curtain to rise. I began softly humming my songs and rapidly checking to make sure all the necessary props were in place: a letter from my “parents” in my pocket and a locket around my neck. Once I knew everything was in order, I shakily took a few deep breaths and pumped myself up. You know all your lines. You know all your songs. You will succeed, I said over and over again to myself.
Then the moment arrived when I channeled an eleven-year-old orphan from 1933 who guided my steps.
Although exhausting mentally and physically, playing Annie was an experience I will never forget. The anxiety before going on stage is nothing compared to the euphoria when I come off. Stepping off stage to little girls asking for my autograph and old ladies pinching my cheeks was so rewarding.
Amazingly, the little girl that wouldn’t speak or interact with anyone was now confidently on stage in front of hundreds of people. My mom will never stop saying, “Abby wouldn’t be the person she is today without drama club.”
"I hadn't even
considered changing out of the sweatpants in which I was taking refuge."
Annie and daddy Warbucks sing a duet
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