Drama Class is No Wonderland

I hate Mondays. Miss Smith thinks that on a Monday afternoon drama class is fun. I think it’s just another excuse to sit in a class where no one listens and be forced to participate.

I was elected to play the part of Alice. I am a natural blonde. That is all the skill my class finds as an agreeable quality to hand out a leading part. Wait until they find out I’m mad, then my credentials will really be credible.

Melanie Pitts fixes me with the largest glare. She’s the drama captain. Why? Because the teachers were sick of her complaining in class, now she can do it in a scheduled meeting, and this week they were sure to get an earful.

My friend Beth is to play the white rabbit. She’s short. You can just tell this year level is going places in the future…

I look at my watch, it’s only five past three, still another 25 minutes. I wondered if being late on stage would show commitment to my character, I look over to Chrissy, the director who’s bestfriends with Melanie the drama captain–perhaps not.

I tried on the costume backstage in our storage area, and tugged the bow in my hair. I noticed whispering. A soft crash sounded. I looked at the mostly dusty costumes, then over at the props. A small doll house stood in a corner, the door slighy ajar.

I didn’t think much of it but perhaps wondered why things seemed to be moving past the plastic covered windows. Next thing I know I am crouching to get a better look, and my palm almost knocks something over. A glass vile that has a label “drink me”.

‘Beth. Do we need the drink me bottle?!’

‘Yeah I just filled it with water,’ she called back.

I stood in front of a mirror and tried to do a cute drink pose that fell awfully short of cute, and more like I was trying to kiss the bottle.

When the water touched my tongue I felt strange. The room seemed much too bright and then, I swam in a sea of fabric. When I got across a lady stood in the dollhouse’s doorway, and screamed and ran inside. When she re-emerged she handed me a dress my size, and helped attach the velcro back. She ushered me in for tea and just as I saw the Mad Hatter begin to pour it, I thought I might indeed be awfully late for my performance…

~Written by Stephanie Kentepozidis

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