Beautiful Monster(3)

              Most of the students, they don’t stay the full twelve years there. They enter late, or leave early, either for fame and fortune, or for broken dreams. Some of them barely make it a year, the classes are anything but easy, and the directors are as hard on them as they would be to any professional actor. I probably have been there longer than any of them, with nine years of sneaking in under my belt. I long to be in front of an audience of more than my stuffed animals and five people on YouTube, to try to apply what I’ve learned.
              But I’ve learned to face reality. I’ve not been able to go to the school for a week or so at a time when I’ve been ill myself, and I realize how lucky I have it. When my energy is low, I just have to open my laptop. But when I finally do make it back, I feel so full of life. The school rejuvenates me.
So that’s what I want to be when I grow up, an actress. And that was the day I decided it forever.
              I hit save, and spell check, re-reading quickly before I hit submit and ended the test. I wanted to forget writing it as soon as I was done; bringing back up those feelings was going to stick with me. As soon as I saw it was submitted, I shut down the computer and got up to stretch. I had been typing for four straight hours, finishing most of my assignments, ahead of time as usual. But now, Dad would be home, and I wanted to get a head start on dinner.
              Most of my ingredients had already been prepared, in the professional way that he had taught me. I had learned about food safety before I learned not to stick my fingers in light sockets. I couldn’t help putting some in my mouth as I was preparing it, everything tasted so good today. Some days, my appetite seems to leave me, but at that moment it had returned with a vengeance.
              Just 62 days until Oscar Nominations posted! My phone beeped with a text from my friend, Sarah. Sarah was my kindred spirit, my best friend. We had met online via a forum where we were discussing actors and movies, and exchanged phone numbers the next day. Despite having never met, we texted each over several times a day with little updates and messages.
              I smiled, typing back a huge smiley face, and then went back to stuffing peppers. Dad had warned me that this was my one downfall in the kitchen; my phone. I teased him that one day, I would make fried cell phone, and his face told that he wouldn’t put it past me.
              Is your Dad home yet? Does he know who is cast in this year’s winter performance? That beautiful HBO-pretty Luke you wrote me about?
              I glanced at the clock before replying. Although I couldn’t attend the school, I badgered Dad for information, and always saw every performance they put on. This year, the most promising of all was a senior named Luke, who had the lead in every show. The last show’s program said he already had an agent and would be moving to LA as soon as his schooling was done.
              Not home yet, but soon. I’ll tell you as soon as I know, but I don’t know when they are posting the cast list.
              Living next door to a theater school was like having my own personal Hollywood, and at least I had Sarah to share it with, rather than sitting in silence all day long.
              The clock chimed 6pm just as I heard the door open. Dad was a bit late, but not overly so.
              “Hi!” I called to him, turning around just as I finished the last of the cutting. He smiled at me as he stepped into the kitchen.
              “There are only two professions in the world where one is used to being greeted with a huge knife. Serial Killer and Chef. Be careful, Amy.”
              “Sorry,” I said, turning around and putting it down again before giving him a hug. Being homeschooled often meant I didn’t see another living soul all day. “You’re late. Was the cast list posted for the winter show?”