Uno

      My heart beat quickly as I stared longingly at my laptop screen. I was watching, for perhaps the 50th time, my inspiration Idina Menzel sing Defying Gravity from the sensational Broadway musical Wicked.  This song was probably my favourite number in the entire show and still gave me chills during the final verse Idina belted with such ease.  As I watched my idol’s flawless performance, I couldn’t help but yearn for the day when I too would sing in a groundbreaking musical on Broadway.  Ever since I was little I had wanted to perform, and nothing would keep me from living my dream.  A knock on the door followed by my mom entering my room interrupted my dreamland and I grudgingly looked up from my MacBook Pro. With one dissatisfied glance at my clothes- splattered floor, my mother crossed her arms against her sagging chest and turned her ice cold gaze on me.

          “If you don’t start cleaning your room and packing right now, I am going to take that lap top away from you and you’re not going to see it again till your birthday.”  My jaw dropped. She couldn’t be serious.  Yes, I knew I should have started packing days ago and my room did look like an earthquake victim, but my current mindset was my future career in performing.  I had an audition in less then a month for an acting college and I needed to prepare for it.  Right now, I wasn’t worried about packing for any mission trip, even if I was leaving in two days. 

           “That’s not fair!” I wailed, “I’ve been busy preparing for my Sheridan audition!”

           “Brianna, you need to get busy packing,” My mom said sternly. “Also, before you get all sucked up in these auditions, I want you think about what you are doing with your life. I know you love performing, but you can always do that on the side, as a hobby.”  As a hobby.  This wasn’t the first time she had flung this argument on me, and I was getting very annoyed with having to repeatedly defend my love of theatre to her.  

           “Mom, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I want to perform. Not on the side, but as a living! I’ve wanted to ever since I can remember and I’ve never been this passionate about anything else!” I tell her as I close my laptop and start rummaging through my closet for clothes to wear in Honduras. I honestly had no clue what to bring. I knew I couldn’t bring anything too valuable, so that basically meant the majority of my wardrobe.  Luckily, I had some old shirts and a few pairs of ripped jeans stored at the back of my overpacked closet just in case I needed emergency painting clothes. I ripped them off their hangers and threw them into the empty suitcase which sat on my bed. 

           “Okay, as long as you’re sure,” my mom sighed in defeat and closed my bedroom door behind her.  As I continued filling my blue suitcase, for the the first time ever I felt a small, minuscule part of me agree with the older woman’s words. I quickly dismissed this reaction.

                                                       ***

        “Hola!”  my friend Maddie cheered as she plopped her lunch down beside me.  The cafeteria was almost empty today as most of the students were out enjoying the first warm day of the year. 

        “Hey,” I replied, less enthusiastically before continuing to nibble on my apple. My petit friend was jumping up and down with excitement. Even her black curls appeared to have more bounce in them today.          

      “I can’t believe we leave tomorrow!” she squealed, “It’s going to be so much fun! I’m so excited!” 

       “No, really?” I said, sarcasm brewing in my voice. I smiled as Maddie rolled her emerald green eyes. Ignoring my previous remark, she continued to chirp about what she was bringing to Honduras.  As Maddie began listing off each novel she had packed my thoughts quickly returned to my audition and the endless preparation that was required.  It was vital I chose an impressive monologue that could show a multitude of my talents....

     “Brianna!” The sound of my name brought me back and I focussed my gaze in front of me, where Maddie was looking at me with anticipation.

      “Sorry, what did you say?” I asked, blankly. 

      “I asked how your Spanish was coming,” Maddie replied impatiently. 

      “Not so good,” I admitted, swallowing my fruit. 

      “Brianna! We leave tomorrow! They speak Spanish in Honduras, not English!”  Maddie giggled as she added, “You’re going to look like an idiot trying to talk to the kids in English.  Just be lucky I’m bringing a Spanish and English dictionary.”   I glared at my over enthusiastic friend and took one last bite of my apple. 

      “I am very well aware of what language they speak,” I said through my mouthful of fruit. “I’ve just been busy and haven’t had time to learn it.  Don’t worry, I’ll look at some youtube tutorials tonight,”  I said,  standing up and throwing out the apple core. 

       “Okay, well I need to go finish my English essay,” Maddie said as she stood up from the table. “I’m picking you up at 11 o’clock tomorrow and we’re meeting the rest of the group at the airport at 1:30.”

          “Sounds good!” I replied, more enthusiastically this time.

          “Great! Adios amiga!”  Maddie skipped off and I was left in the cafeteria deciding what to do with the rest of my lunch hour.  I decided I should probably work on my history project since I wasn’t going to have time over the break, though I hated myself for coming to this conclusion. My patience for high school was gradually depleting with each assignment that was handed to me; and each due date I almost missed because of procrastination. There were only three months until graduation, yet that glorious day in June still seemed so far away I felt like I had to cross the Sahara desert to reach it.   As I began my short journey to the library, one single phrase pulsed repeatedly in the back of my head. D****t, I am so sick of high school.

          

       

                                                             ***

       “Did you remember to pack your toothbrush?”

       “Yes, mom.”

       “And you brought warm clothes?” 

       “Yes, mom.”

       “Oh, did you remember to pack nicer clothes for church on Sunday?”

        “Yes, mom!  I have everything,” I reassured the worried woman who was apprehensively lingering over my overstuffed luggage.  “Jeez, I’m almost 18, I know how to pack a damn suitcase!” I told her as I attempted to zip the voluptuous bag up with extreme force.  “Too be honest,” I panted, “I think I may have packed too much.”  With one last forceful yank at the small metal zipper, I was finally able to pull it closed.  I checked the time on my cell phone to learn that it was 10:45; Maddie was going to be here in 15 minutes to pick me up. 

         “This is going to be an amazing experience for you, Brianna,” my mother said as she embraced me for the tenth time that morning.  “Many people come back from mission trips like these completely changed. One of the men I work with, his daughter  wanted to become a vet for the longest time.  She went to Mexico when she was around your age and she’s now involved with missionary work and helps people in poor countries all over the world.”

         “That’s great, mom,” I replied impatiently. “But I don’t think a week in Honduras is going to change the goals that I’ve had since I was a kid. No offense.” 

           “Maybe not, but you might be surprised.” Before I could reply to my misguided mother,  a harsh buzzing emerged from my pocket and I pulled my cell phone out to see who had texted me.  It was Maddie telling me she was waiting for me outside my house. She was early, as usual.  I yanked my heavy suitcase out the narrow door and dragged it to the red truck parked in the driveway.  Maddie jumped out of the vehicle in black sweatpants, a fitted tee and a bandana wrapped smoothly around her silk curls. It was amazing, yet completely unfair how my friend’s tiny figure allowed her to pull off the ugliest outfits with a natural ease.  I, on the other hand spent almost half an hour this morning trying to find comfortable clothes to wear that still looked relatively good around my larger curves. In the end, I decided on black yoga pants, a blue tank top and a white zip up sweater. 

             “Ready to spend a week in a third world country?”  Maddie asked me after helping me throw my suitcase in the back of her truck.

             “Ready as ever,” I replied, in an unsure tone of voice. After saying my last goodbyes to my mom, Maddie and I hopped in the pick up truck where her mother patiently sat waiting in the driver’s seat.

              “Have fun!” Were my mom’s last words to me through the open window of the truck as it started pulling away from my house. 

              “I’ll try,” I whispered under my breath as we began the long drive to the airport.