The Slipping Beauty

story & illustrations

by Wei Chao

Now, I am standing on the stage wondering why I’m up here. My classmate Luke, wearing a pink ugly dress and a blond hair wig, is next to me. We both feel awkward. 

  Thanks to our principal, the long (I mean very long) speech makes us feel even worse. “Well, looks like today we have to redefine the meanings of boys and girls.” says our “bald-headed” principal. When the audience starts to laugh, I swear I see tears are about fall from Luke’s face; at that moment, I really want to step forward and punch the principal in the face. Just when I’m going to take my move, the host reads my name and announces my award—the best “male” actor. 

     Then you’ll know what award Luke has won.

    Back to the question I’ve been asking myself the whole time on stage, why am I up here? To begin with, I want to say here and now that our school cleaner should take at least part of the blame for this situation. 

In our school, there is a drama competition for third-graders. At first I feel excited, but as soon as I find that our class will be separated into two groups, and the guy I have a crush on, Gin, is in the other group, I immediately lose interest. 

Our group chooses Sherlock Holmes and Arsene Lupin as the major characters. It’s about Holmes and Lupin working together to find the stolen diamond. Gin’s group is going to act out “Snow White” and Gin is the hunter. 
What about me? Well, since our play is about the stolen diamond, there must be a thief; actually, there are three thieves and I am the silent one. It simply means that I have no lines and will be killed in, what, about one minute after I go on stage? I also have to act like I’m drunk. You must be wondering why I picked this stupid role, considering that I have to act in front of everyone, including Gin. It’s because he “won’t” see it. Thanks to my team leader and her good luck, we are scheduled to go after Gin’s group, which means when we are acting on stage, they will be backstage collecting their props.

    Finally, Friday arrives. Because we are the last group, my teammates seem so nervous that they can’t really enjoy the show. Only I sit there relaxed on a sofa with a bag of potato chips.

     Suddenly, my team leader comes to me with that face when she needs my help. Last time she showed me the same kind of face when her dog stuck itself in the ditch and wanted me to help her with it. So I did, ending up with five stitches on my hand.

I have a bad feeling about what she’s going to ask me.

“Hey, can you do us a favor?” She uses “us”, I notice. “Do you mind playing one more role? Because Luke is too nervous to go on the stage himself, we are wondering if you can stand beside him. ” 

Then the alarm in my head starts going off and tells me to refuse. “Of course I don’t.” The answer flies out of my mouth automatically.

“Great! The role is a reporter; you just have to pretend you are taking photos of Luke. ”

Luke, my classmate and one of my best friends, who plays as “Miss” Luna, the owner of the stolen diamond, is on the verge of tears. “Oh, and you’ll be the first to go on stage, isn’t it exciting?” What? I’m the first to go on stage? I start to worry about our performance.

“Now, let’s welcome our last group―Holmes and Lupin!” says the host. The music is on and the narrator starts the show.

My stomach clenches. I can feel the heat rise on my face. Luke stands behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder, “Are you ok?” he whispers in my ear. I can feel his warm breath on my neck. 

“Aren’t you the one who has stage fright? Why do you even pick this stupid character?” At that moment, I really want to shout at him because he is the one who puts me in this situation; he is the one to blame.

But instead of that, I nod my head and give him a smile and go on the stage while thinking how the school cleaner made the stage so shiny.

Suddenly, the curtain opens with a loud noise, which startles me so much that I lose my balance and fall over. Thanks to the waxed floor, I land in the middle of the stage in full view of the audience.

I am so frozen with terror that I cannot even move my finger. I just lie there face down on the floor like an age-old statue which has been there over (according to our team leader, it was less than ten seconds) ten centuries. 

     And then the laugh begins. And then the first miracle happens.

     Something deep in my heart starts to change.

     I stand up with the pose that every gymnast will do after a perfect landing. The audience laughs even louder, but it’s just the beginning. When Luke comes up the stage with the dress and the wig and the funny dances (which were not in the rehearsal), the audience has almost gone crazy. Since he started to act, I have held the fake camera and done what our leader told me—pretending to take pictures of him. I’ve never been so close to Luke: his black eyes and his long eyelashes and all the makeup that the girls put on for him, make him look really like a girl. When Luke notices I am staring at him, to my surprise, he blushes. 

    Everything seems perfect so far. The audience has never stopped laughing and screaming since the show began. I am really proud of my teammates and their hilarious performance. And it’s my turn again; this time I’m acting as the drunken thief. All I need to do is go on the stage rickety and be killed by the police.
When I walk like I’m drunk to the middle of stage, I step on my shoelace and what happens next is just like last time.

    Oh, there is something different though; this time I fall on my butt.

    Everyone is laughing, even my teammates are laughing, too. I’m sitting on the floor shrieking silently. Apparently they think I did it on purpose. What kind of people will slip on the stage twice just to win laughter?

    I mean twice!

   Then the second miracle occurs. Some brilliant portion of my brain reminds me that this is a comedy, this is all about making the audience feel the joy.

    I struggle to stand up and make bigger gestures and broader moves, singing looney tunes. People are howling. Our teacher even tries to give me a Breathalyzer test after the show. Next, the police show up. It’s time for me to be killed by the fake gun.

   Then the real disaster attacks me like a great white shark.

   The world is still beautiful while I’m doing the slow-motion-run, but everything goes wrong when I slip for the third time. Again the waxed floor causes the slip, but this time I can’t stop.

   Really, I CAN’T stop!

   I’m yelling and leaning forward to get a hold of the piano on stage. Who puts it there? I’m an egg thrown to the rock; I can almost hear the “bang” sound when my chest hits on it.The second before I hit the piano, I glance offstage and—oh no, there’s a camera with a red light on—oh wait, there’s someone beside it, Gin! OH MY—then, BANG. The great white shark eats my face up.

    I can’t breathe, I can’t see, I can’t stand. The vision I see is all white.

   The audience is still laughing? So, they think I’m acting? But I still need to find a way to leave the stage. I hold my breath and stand up—urgh, it hurts. Backstage, all my teammates come to me and give a pat on my back (that almost kills me) saying that I did a great job. I want to tell them I need to sit but words are all stuck in my mouth. To my surprise again, Luke comes and takes a chair for me, asking, “Are you all right?” He lowers himself and looks me in the eye, wearing the ridiculous dress.

   “Still alive.” I answer. Then we just sit silently beside each other. 

   Okay, that’s why I’m up onstage. Receiving the best  “actor” award and giving fake smiles and taking photos with the principal. Awkward. I’m never ever coming back to this school again after I graduate. NEVER. And about the video that taped all my elegant moves, I just pray no one puts it on Facebook.
Oh, there’s still a problem.

   On the way back to the classroom, Gin comes to me.

   “No, not now.” I murmur.

   As I am considering running into the nearest restroom, he starts to talk. “You really did a great job on stage.” Gin says. That moment, my heart skips a beat. Apparently, he sees all the show. “Then I bet you did like my elegant moves.” I say ironically without thinking.

   “No, that’s not what I meant, I...” He actually sounds nervous. I begin to feel sorry about what I just said. “I know, you’re jealous of my acting skills, sorry that I stole your award.” I try to be humorous.

   And it works; he laughs out and says, “Hey, do you want to...”

   “Do you want to hang out later?” They finish the sentence at the same time.

   I mean Gin and Luke. Well, this drama competition experience isn’t all really bad: at least I’ve got an award and...

   I open my mouth and say....