Running my hands through my hair, I stare once more at the script in front of me. Every bone in my body is shaking; my feet won’t stay flat on the floor and even my eyes can’t keep their view in one pane. Down the hallway other equally nervous teenagers copy my actions on uncomfortable chairs. To my left a boy sits back in his chair, trying to look cool, calm and collected, but his shaking knee gives him away. Across from me a girl sobs silently, muttering curses under her breath.
We all sit in nervous silence, with the odd “Wanna practice?” followed by half-hearted runthroughs echoing down the hallway.
I look at the boy next to me and utter the same line, quietly, and he nods. Neither of us looks at the other as we do so. Both our eyes widen as our script reads They kiss.
“Will we have to…?” he whispers.
“Dunno…” I murmer, as a girl bursts through the doors in floods of tears.
I swallow as the casting agent calls out two names, and me and the boy walk nervously in single file, praying we get the part.