Chapter 3

  October 8, 2016

  New York, New York

  2:00 PM

  Acacia

  Sitting in the audience chairs of the Public Theatre, Acacia stopped her nervous feet from tapping so furiously.

  Reading through the monologue for what seemed to be the millionth time, she patiently waited for her name to be called out. Despite the number of auditions she attended in the last five years, she always felt nervous. Teeth chattering and trembling fingers would prevent her from doing even the simplest tasks. She found comfort in her mother’s dawn tinted shawl that was draped across her shoulders. She breathed in the faint strawberry and rose scent of her mother’s old perfume still etched into the fabric, and felt her jittering nerves calm down slightly.

  Acacia tried her best not to think about how much she regretted her outfit of choice this afternoon. She chose a tea-length black dress that's fitted at the waist and loose at the bottom with a light tulle fabric lightly surrounding the skirt. She had only finished sewing it a couple of weeks ago and refused to wear anything else since then. However, compared to the rest of the actors and actresses auditioning with her this afternoon, she felt like a fish out of the water as she picked at the tulle and frowned at her worn-out red ballet flats.

  She had tried her very best that morning to pick out an outfit that resembled what the female lead, Elena, would wear. However, seeing how different she looked compared to the rest of the auditionees, Acacia even debated just leaving.

  All of them seemed to have chosen darker tones and shades for their wardrobe. They also seemed to sport darker hair colours, specifically deep reds and shades of black. Their makeup was done in a way where their powder was caked almost white with dark eyeshadow smudged under their eyes and heavy eyeliner coating their lids, with either bold red or nude for lipstick; a stark contrast to Acacia’s classic thin eyeliner and rosy lips.

  Is there a recent fashion trend I’ve missed? The script said nothing about any stage makeup? Did I miss anything?

  Either way, Acacia’s bleached white hair had stood out, and she slid down her seat as odd, disapproving stares from the auditionees began pointing her way.

  “Acacia Ballerina,” one of the directors called out, mispronouncing her last name and snapping Acacia from her distractive thoughts. She quickly removed her shawl and folded it neatly before setting it down next to her messenger book bag and script.

  Fixing her wispy bangs, she promptly walked down the stairs to the brightly lit stage. She could already feel the directors’ eyes looking up and down at her.

  As she stepped in the middle of the stage where the spotlight hit the strongest, she cleared her throat, smiled, and stated, “Actually, it’s Ballerini” her Italian accent naturally audible at her last name, “Common mistake, though,” she chuckled lightly.

  The director looked up and narrowed her eyes, causing Acacia’s smile to falter.

  Although she had grown so desperate as to take on any audition she could find, she desperately hoped to get the part of Elena Balan. Practically devouring the entire script in less than a day, she almost lost her job at the diner that night from ignoring customers and made it home with only five dollars worth of tips.

  Acacia squinted her eyes slightly to get a better look at them from the dark.

  She could barely make out details, but they all sat in the darkness with stern expressions on their faces.

  “Ms. Ballerina,” the director snubbed, “I’m Alexandra, the director, and my two companions here are Nicolae and Anna, the producers.”

  Acacia bowed her head slightly as she took the producers in and smiled politely, “Pleasure to meet you all.”

  Alexandra’s russet-brown skin had contrasted tremendously from the producers’ stark white paleness. They all had dark raven hair and were seated with a stillness that was so stoic it seemed inhuman. The stillness of their shoulders gave the impression that they were somehow not breathing, and if it weren’t for the occasional blinking, they could have been statues. However, what really caught her attention were Nicolae’s cold golden-yellow eyes. She had to look twice at them as she thought it may be a trick of the light due to her current placement, but they were still as stark as blazing fires as they stared lazily at her breasts. She pressed her lips together, pulling her gaze away from him to quickly peek at Anna.

  She was incredibly gorgeous with vibrant blue eyes that stood out compared to her black hair. However, Acacia could tell from the split ends that it was dyed and damaged, having experience in that aspect. She furrowed her brows at Anna, as she couldn’t help but think she looked familiar.

  “I assume you’ve read the script?” Alexandra asked, flipping through some papers with her red manicured hands.

  “Yes, of course!” Acacia answered, rather too quickly, before looking down, “I actually finished reading it in less than a day. I fell in love with the plot and it reminded me a lot of….”

  “Yes, yes, we’re well aware,” Alexandra interrupted, rolling her eyes slightly.

  Acacia’s grin faltered slightly.

  “So you’ll be auditioning for the role of…” Alexandra asked, interrupting her again and raising her sharp brows.

  Clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders, she replied, “The lead role, Elena Balan.”

  All three of them snapped their heads up.

  The silence of the auditorium was so loud, Acacia felt like she could catch it and snap it in half.

  The auditionees in the audience had paused in reading their scripts and looked at her with newfound interest and sour expressions.

  “How old are you?” the man named Nicolae asked, breaking the quiet and snapping Acacia’s gaze back to him.

  His voice was deep and heavily accented but she couldn’t place what exact dialect it was.

  “Twenty-three,” Acacia answered, fidgeting slightly with her dress but caught herself, and clasped her hands behind her back to prevent any skittish tics from showing.

  She could almost hear Aunt Jeane hissing in her ear: A beauty queen never shows she’s nervous.

  “Don’t you think you’re a little too young to be auditioning for such a role?” Nicolae asked, crossing his long legs as he curled his thin lips.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Acacia smiled tightly, “I don’t see why age should be a limit to expression.”

  Scoffing, he broke his gaze away and flicked a piece of lint from his suit jacket.

  The bitter trio was silent for a few minutes as they observed her, eyes travelling up and down with indifference plastered on all their faces. If it weren’t for Acacia’s past pageantry and various past auditions, she would have been intimidated, but she was used to judgemental observations by now. Despite that, she still felt the kick in her heartbeat that always appeared in time when their gazes travelled back to her face. She knew they were taking in her average height and slim hourglass body, probably even estimating her hip, waist, and bust sizes measurements. Her choice of clothing and makeup, how they clearly did not fit the preferred qualifications; but most importantly--her posture and how well she did under the pressure of their calculated stares.

  Aunt Jeane spent late hours into many nights, training her to have the absolute perfect posture, hissing constantly into her ear about the importance of pose and stance. If even her shoulder was slightly bent, Aunt Jeane would strike her wrist with a metal stick.

  She absentmindedly rubbed her scarred wrists that she made sure were always covered by a layer of powder and skin tint.

  Alexandra cleared her throat as she pulled up a clipboard and clicked a pen.

  “I could see from your resume that you’ve been in quite a few shows,” she mused through the disdainful lift of her mouth, “As a chorus girl.”

  Acacia held in her cringe as she nodded and smiled.

  “A chorus girl wants the lead?” Alexandra asked, raising her brows and wrinkling her nose, “Don’t you think that’s a little out of your… place?”

  Nicolae let out a chuckle.

  Acacia dug her nails into her palms but kept her smile in place, “Well you shouldn’t underestimate those of us in the background.”

  Alexandra looked on with pursed lips while Anna had a small smile.

  “Alright, let’s get this over with,” Nicolae muttered, taking out his phone, “We must give all the auditionees a chance.”

  At that, Alexandra turned her head to meet all the displeased and desperate gazes in the audience and sighed as she rolled her eyes.

  “Alright, you may begin,” she said, leaning back into the red cushioned chair and playing with her black pen, “Whenever you’re ready, chorus girl.”

  “Thank you,” Acacia replied as she took a long deep breath in, releasing her clasped hands that now had deep dug in red nail marks on her palms.

  Closing her eyes, she whispered the name Elena Balan and listened to it echo through the theatre.

  Almost immediately, Acacia’s clairvoyance wrapped her up in an invisible bubble that kept her warm and safe. Their judgemental stares faded away as the noise around her went mute. In that very same bubble, she felt Elena’s ghost enter as the warm air suddenly turned cold. Acacia bit back a gasp as Elena’s cold hand held onto her own and Elena’s spirit entered her body, taking full control of her senses. Elena’s pain, sorrow, and defeat over her murdered husband took shape into a dead blackened rose that crumbled into a million pieces of glass shards that prickled Acacia’s skin everywhere.

  For a few short seconds, she couldn’t breathe.

  Despite the many, many rehearsals, she felt like she was drowning at the weight of the sensations. But then Elena’s determination and inflexible nature pulled Acacia to the surface.

  When Acacia opened her eyes, it wasn’t her looking at the audience.

  “So this is what you repay all of us after everything we’ve provided,” she declared beginning the monologue.

  Heavy tears uncontrollably trailed down her face as she let out a deep breath. Her back straightened into an extremely stiff posture, and her palms fisted as she crossed her brows and took a step forward.

  She looked around as if she was facing the group of aristocrats Elena is talking to in the monologue. Her face was tear-stained but her posture stiff and her mouth pursed into a thin line as she walked around in a small circle, making sure her back never faced the audience. She continued the monologue, hitting every line perfectly, matching the blocking as she moved around the stage.

  The shattered glass of rose petals began to put themselves back together, each time a glass shard was perfectly put into the scarred puzzle.

  Acacia felt her back straighten and an undeniable rage rose with each line that was delivered.

  Coming to the end of the monologue, she stood at the edge of the stage as she looked at the judges with determination and sorrow coating her eyes, “I will find who murdered him,” Acacia gasped, her breath shaking and her teeth gritted, “And when I do, I will make sure that person gets buried in that grave with him,” she gripped out, a tear escaping her right eye.

  When she finished the monologue, she briefly closed her eyes and she felt Elena’s ghost leave her body. The glass rose had fully mended itself together but with cracks in between the pieces. She felt Elena’s hand squeeze her palms reassuringly before she left, and Acacia held her hand tightly before letting it go.

  The air was filled with the scent of a dead rose that she knew only she could smell.

  She opened her eyes, her vision blurred slightly as she let out a small breath.

  Her back relaxed from the stringent posture it was in and her fists unclenched revealing even deeper nail marks that bled lightly. As the tears that she had held in finally drifted down like quiet rivers, Acacia quickly brushed them away when she stepped back to the middle of the stage and took a bow. She wiped the shreds of blood on the back of her dress. Elena’s voice was still a whisper in her head as she held her lips tightly forcing them to smile.

  “Right,” Alexandra spoke in the silence.

  She held in her tears as she looked at all three judges who all had different expressions on their faces, leaving Acacia with no indication of how well she had done. Anna had quiet tears streaming down her face but her features were passive and stoic. Alexandra narrowed her dark eyes with her pen being nibbled by her straight teeth as she stared quietly at Acacia, and Nicolae had just stared, his hands covering his mouth with the same lazy position he had been in since the beginning of the audition. Acacia gave a quick glance to the auditionees sitting in the audience and found them all gaping at her with mouths hanging open and wide eyes, before looking back at the judges.

  “Will you give us a moment, dear?” asked Alexandra rather loudly, already leaning in closely with Nicolae and Anna, the latter giving a sympathetic smile to which Acacia politely returned.

  When they were all huddled up together and she made sure the auditionees were back to reading their scripts-- more thoroughly this time--Acacia unclasped her hands. She allowed her smile to falter and let out a shaky breath as her hands gripped the sides of her dress.

  It was always incredibly difficult to detach from ghosts so heavy and profound and it was overwhelming enough dealing with her own extravagant emotions. Before Acacia learned to manifest her abilities, she had often felt too much too fast with so many ghosts and spirits screaming around her, begging for her to listen when no one did. It took her years of training and experience to learn how and when to blur them out and protect her mind from any entering.

  “So,” Alexandra called out, causing Acacia to automatically put back her pageant pose, “We were incredibly impressed with your performance, Ms. Ballerina. You truly have a gift,” Acacia’s heart began to thunder and she couldn’t help her mouth from twitching to a smile. “However,” Acacia’s shoulders slumped down slightly, “You’re not exactly,” Alexandra cleared her throat, “How do I say this properly-”

  “You’re not the image we’re looking for,” Nicolae interrupted loudly, rolling his eyes as he shrugged and arched his brows, “The role was too mature for you anyways, honestly, I’m surprised you even auditioned in the first place,” he chuckled slightly.

  “You see, Elena has more of a darker vibe to her that you’re unable to capture,” Alexandra said, rolling her eyes at Nicolae.

  Acacia kept her posture stoic and stern, her expression blank and empty, as she nodded and whispered, “I understand.” She stole a glance at Anna, who avoided her gaze entirely and instead focused her attention on her designer black Louis Vuitton heels.

  Nicolae had just continued to stare at her with ridicule, as Alexandra pursed her lips and said, “You may leave now.”

  Acacia’s eyes burned as she kept her tears at bay and smiled, took another bow, and whispered, “Thank you for your time.”

  Years of pageant practice had allowed Acacia to walk away perfectly with her back, shoulders, and smile set in place as she walked up the stairs back to the dark audience.

  Not wasting any time, Alexandra called out, “Francis Baciu,” pronouncing his name right. Acacia scoffed quietly as she grabbed her things and avoided every gaze she felt on her as she made her way out.

  It was only when she was safely inside the bathroom stall with the door firmly shut that Acacia released her grip on her emotions and allowed the tears to finally stream down as she cried quietly, hugging her mother’s old shawl tightly around her.