Antiheroes 6

Maggie was sitting on a hard wooden chair in a narrow, dark hallway. Her legs were curled tightly beneath the seat, and in her lap, she was twisting and toying with the hem of her skirt. It was all she could do to keep even that still. She was just so excited. This was where it all began. This was the start of her life, her real life, finally.
The other girls, sitting up and down the hall, all looked nervous, some of them bordering on ill. One or two just looked tired, and Maggie wondered how many of these auditions they’d been to. Surely, she thought, there came a point at which you just had to — not give up, but maybe find something else to do. Not everyone could make it in this business.
An older woman, wearing glasses and a serious expression, walked out of one of the adjoining rooms into the hall, followed by the previous hopeful, who looked almost numb as she walked past them all down the hall.

“Isabel Roberts?” She called, and the girl sitting next to Maggie stood up.

“”Good luck,” Maggie whispered, beaming up at her. Isabel nodded, slightly, but didn’t even really make eye contact. Maggie tried not to be hurt by that. After all, she was tense and distracted, focusing on what was about to happen. But still. It wasn’t like a smile took a lot of energy.

A few minutes passed after Isabel disappeared through the door. The hall was almost silent — one auditionee, down the other end of the hall, was humming under her breath, but otherwise they were making very little noise. Maggie had already warmed up before coming in here, and she assumed the rest had done the same. The atmosphere was getting kind of oppressive, actually — every little sound she made seemed amplified, and the more she studied everyone else’s faces, their expressions of extreme anxiety, the worse she felt. She bounce her leg up and down, the nervous tension too much to hold inside.
Eventually, the door opened again. Isabel slipped out and hurried away, looking like she was walking as fast as she could without it technically being a run. Maggie tried to catch a glimpse of her face, gauge how it had gone, but she had her head down and was gone before any definite conclusion could be made.

“Margaret McKinley?” The woman with the glasses said, and Maggie almost leapt out of her chair.

“Yes! I mean, I’m here, I’m ready.”

The woman gave her a tight smile, and motioned for her to walk inside. Maggie wished someone would say ‘good luck’ to her. But maybe that just wasn’t how things worked here. Maybe she was on her own. She could handle that. She would be absolutely, 110 per cent fine.
Maggie had kind of half been expecting the studio to open up after the cramped hall, to be big and airy and light-filled. But really, it was just as dingy as the hallway outside. Three people sat at a small desk, and watched her impassively as she walked in. Presumably one of them was the director, and the others — writers, producers? She wasn’t sure.

“Hi,” she said, smiling at them. “I’m Maggie.”

“It’s a pleasure,” said one of them, an older guy - a little sarcastically, Maggie thought, but whatever. “What are you singing for us today?”

“I Dreamed a Dream,” Maggie said confidently. “From Les Mis.” She thought she saw one of them roll their eyes just slightly, another give a quiet sigh. Indecision gripped her. Should she have picked something else? Had a bunch of people already sung her song that morning, was she going to just blur into the crowd and be forgotten? But she didn’t have time for these kinds of thoughts. Les Mis was a classic, the song was great, and it showed off her voice really well. She would be fine. She would get the part. She would be fine.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the old guy said, and Maggie nodded, took a deep breath, and began.