Chapter 29

                                    

                                          
Creaking, the door swung open. Lights flickered on and the dull room was brightened. Quiet footfalls bounced off the walls as she crept inside. Long, thin, disappointing. That is how I would describe the drama room.
                          
Under the main hall of the school was a bland room used mostly for storage. Random objects overflowed from cupboards pressed against the wall. Several chairs huddled in a corner, desperately fleeing the performing space. It was underwhelming to say the least.
                          
Skipping to the centre, Charlotte spun about, smiling. Papers flapped in her outstretched hand. Dropping into a random wheely chair, she spun across the room. Her face was glowing in the fluorescent, and she was humming a tune I knew, but I couldn't pick it.
                          
Stepping into the room, I looked about before leaning against the wall. "Let's do this thing. Play or musical?"
                          
"Musical," Charlotte answered seriously. Distracted, she leafed through the papers before pulling some free and rolling towards me. "We're doing Peter Pan. I'll read Wendy's lines and you get everything else."
                          
My eyes flicking from the papers to Charlotte, my brows knitted together. My forehead wrinkled curiously. Charlotte's innocent smile told me she was serious.
                          
Sighing, I shook my head. "Alright. Have you already got the part or is this just the one you want?"
                          
Her lips curling into a smirk, Charlotte's cheeks rose, and she tilted her chin upwards. "I already got it," she said, superiority dripping from her. 
                          
"Congrats," I muttered, breezing through the script. "Um, do I have to do the singing parts?"
                          
Laughing, Charlotte waved her hand dismissively. "Oh no, I'll practice those with the cast. We can start on, let's see, page, page six. Mr. Darling's line: Mother, don't pamper him." 
                          
Breathing a sigh of relief, I nodded and skipped to page six. My eyes skipping over script, I quickly found the line. Clearing my throat, I focused and began reading. "Mother, don't pamper him. Come on, Michael, be a man."
                          
"Toxic masculinity," Charlotte yelped through a cough.
                          
When I eyed her, she smiled innocently. Her brows raising in a question, her head tilted, and she waited.
                          
Shaking my head, I continued. "When I was your age, I took my medicine without a murmur. I said, thank you kind parents for giving me bottles to make me well."
                          
Clearing her throat, Charlotte rolled her shoulders and nodded. Donning an English accent, she spoke in a proper manner. "That medicine you sometimes take, Father, is much nastier, isn't it?"
                          
I nodded severely and mimicked Charlotte's accent, getting into it. "Ever so much nastier, and I would take it now as an example to you, Michael, if I hadn't lost the bottle."
                          
"It's not lost, Father. It's in the bathroom. I'll get it," Charlotte replied.
                          
Damn, I wish she hadn't mentioned the bathroom, I have to pee. Quickly shaking my head, I dispelled the thoughts and refocused. Muttering a few random lines, I jumped ahead to where Charlotte had more lines.
                          
"It will soon be over, Father," I said in a high voice, now playing Wendy's little brother.
                          
"I've been as quick as I could," Charlotte answered, laser-focused on her script.
                          
Her dedication was obvious but what was impressive was how much fun she was having. Even to a novice or a stranger, it was clear that Charlotte loved acting. We read through the first scene several times and as she grew more comfortable with the lines, Charlotte began acting; moving about the room, pulling various props from the cupboards.
                          
Seeing her so invested made me want to join in, and so I did. Holding my script, I shuffled around the room, imitating various characters. It was fun. Naturally, the time flew by. In just a moment, we had been going for over two hours and I completely forgot about needing the bathroom.
                          
Smiling gratefully, Charlotte took the script from me. "Thanks for your help. We can stop now."
                          
Chuckling, I leaned on the wall and buried my hands in my pockets. "That was fun."
                          
"I love it," Charlotte said, staring at the script. Her gaze was a million miles away and her eyes were shining.
                          
"Maybe I could help backstage?" I offered, raising my brows.
                          
Charlotte nodded enthusiastically, a smile splitting her face. "We always need more backstage crew. Just let Ms. Mira know you want to join."
                          
"Will do."
                          
Her posture breaking for a moment, Charlotte suddenly seemed so small. Her shoulders sagged, knees buckled, and her gaze dropped to the floor. "Thank you for this."
                          
I had seen this once before. That time, her confidence, strength and pride all vanished before reappearing in but a second. Now, again, her bravado disappeared. Though, it was gone long enough for me to recognise what her smile was hiding.
                          
The way her gaze settled on the floor. Those longing eyes, feigning contentment. Distant gaze, fallen shoulders, no chest puffed out. Toes pointed inwards as she slowly rocked on her heels.
                          
My eyes widened at the revelation. I went slack jawed; my brows knitting together in curious surprise. "You're lonely."
                          
Blinking, Charlotte's head snapped up. "Wh-what?"
                          
"You're lonely," I repeated, my voice distant.
                          
Charlotte looked as if I had struck her, which, in a way, I suppose I had. To be brutally confronted with the truth isn't easy.
                          
Shaking her head, Charlotte looked away. Turning around, she trudged across the room, grabbed the wheely chair, and spun it with one lazy flick of the wrist. "Someone popular can't, can't be lonely. I have lots of friends."
                          
Sympathetically, I smiled and shrugged. "Maybe that makes it easier to be lonely. The moment everyone's gone, you're left with yourself. What then?"
                          
Placing a hand on the chair, Charlotte stopped the spinning, but she didn't say anything. Gaze downcast, she stood silent, her mind an uproar.
                          
Looking at the roof, I nodded sadly. What am I supposed to say? Silver tongue don't fail me now. "There's no requirements for being lonely. Sometimes, we just are."
                          
Charlotte hugged herself, hanging her head. Her quiet voice filled the room. "I don't like it."
                          
"Well, what would make you not feel lonely?"
                          
Charlotte didn't answer. Rather, she hugged herself tighter. Unable to comprehend why she felt lonely, Charlotte didn't know what to do and it scared her. That, that is something I can understand.
                          
Clearing my throat, I took centre stage. "Come on, Michael, be a man!"
                          
Slowly, Charlotte turned. Her broken smile set upon me. Her brows drooped and shoulders hung low. Shaking her head, she whispered, "toxic masculinity."
                          
Loneliness can be as fickle as the lottery, or it can be painfully consistent; predictable even. You don't have to understand it, merely learn what to do about it. If it were me, I would spend time with Evelyn or June, even Bark. If they weren't there, then I would play a game or lose myself in a book. With Charlotte, I don't know what to do. So, I'll simply be here, and I'll work it out.
                          
Laughing, I nodded and continued spouting random lines. Charlotte rattled off her responses like a monotone robot. Then, we went for a walk, strolling through the school grounds. 
                          
Being hilariously funny, I kept Charlotte entertained and eventually, she smiled at me; still without her usual surety, but it was happy.
                          
"J, thank you."
                          
"Anytime, Wendy."