Skinny(47)

“Today, we’re going to work on not letting that happen. We want to make our audiences believe the story that’s taking place onstage. One way to accomplish this is for an actor to concentrate on something specific while delivering the lines. If you’re able to do that, it’s impossible to concentrate on the audience,” Ms. DeWise says. “Let’s give Gigi a round of applause.”

Everyone claps politely as Gigi takes her seat.

“Now it’s your turn.” Ms. DeWise moves back to center stage. “For today’s exercise, I will put each of you into a small group. Your homework for this week, and the animal you selected, will be the thing for you to concentrate on. However, I don’t want you to let the others know what your chosen object of attention is. As you will see, the result of this simple, common exercise can be startling.”

“People will be laughing at you. Everywhere. Looking at you.

And you want to make it worse by trying to look more like an elephant?”

Ms. DeWise calls people to the stage. I’m relieved to not be in the first group, but it just delays the inevitable. A bead of sweat rolls down my back.

“Today our framework will be the familiar fairy tale Cinderella,” she says in her projecting voice. “But all of you will be applying your homework to your characters. I want you to focus completely on the movements, mannerisms, and look of your chosen animal as you deliver your lines.”

A dark-haired girl named Shelly delivers her lines as the fairy godmother with a short, chirpy voice and quick steps around center stage. I’m guessing her animal is a bird of some kind. Cinderella, a short boy with unlaced tennis shoes that look like they might fall off at any minute, talks with a bit of a whine to his voice. At one point he jumps onto the couch and stretches his arms out over his head, extending each finger carefully like claws. A cat. I can see it now.

The scene is over and everyone applauds. I realize I’ve been so busy watching the action on the stage I’ve forgotten to be nervous. It all comes back the minute Ms. DeWise calls my name. She also calls up Kristen, Gigi, and Natalie Vance, a tall girl I know from my English class. We stand awkwardly at the side of the stage, as Ms. DeWise briefs us on the scene. The two stepsisters (Kristen and Natalie) are talking with Cinderella (Gigi) when the stepmother (me) enters the scene to tell everyone about the upcoming ball. The stepsisters are thrilled, but Cinderella is crushed to discover she won’t be able to go.

Pretty simple. Of course I know the story. I’m living it. It’s just that I usually envision myself as Cinderella, not the stepmother. But it’s acting, right? I move offstage to wait for my big entrance.

“I don’t want to do this.” Kristen is actually talking to me. I glance over at her. She doesn’t look so good, rubbing her hands together and biting her lip anxiously.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t even want to take this stupid class. My mom thought it would help me with cheerleading tryouts,” she whispers loudly. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“No, you’re not.” I gently push her out from behind the curtain. “You’re on.”

I cross my arms in front of me tight against my body, holding in the rising nerves and trying to pull myself together.

Don’t think about the audience. Put up that fourth wall.

“You’re going to act like an elephant in front of everyone? What a surprise. Everyone’s been comparing you to one for years. And the Academy Award goes to . . . the elephant who looks just like an elephant.”

Gigi is a Cinderella monkey, I think. It’s not a good combination, although her wild jumping and shrieking is getting plenty of laughs from the audience. I think one stepsister is some kind of dog, but I have no clue what Kristen is supposed to be. Maybe a mouse? She’s twitching her nose a lot. That might just be her nerves.

It’s time for my entrance. Elephant. Powerful. Awe-inspiring. Not afraid of using my size. I imagine my huge ears flapping in anger, and I stomp out onto the stage to deliver my first line.

The scene is over before I know it and the clapping is loud and appreciative. I was concentrating so hard on being an elephant, I completely lost track of every thing else. Evidently that was the point. We all take a bow at the front of the stage.

Kristen gives me a big smile. I glance behind me, just to make sure, but it’s true. She’s smiling at me. I give her a thumbs-up.

“Very good,” Ms. DeWise calls out. She’s smiling widely and clapping along with the audience. I bow once more, feeling positively giddy with the attention.

“That was great, Ever,” Gigi says as we take our seats back in the auditorium. She sits beside me. Like we’re friends.