Sample+essay+by+Ms.+H.

Ms. Hutchinson’s Memoir Chapter: “The Concert That Wasn’t”

NOTE: The dialogue should be formatted with separate paragraphs for each new speaker. Wiki does not allow indenting, so I've noted the paragraph separations with an extra line break.



===** I sprawled on my bed staring up at the life-size Mick Jagger poster on the opposite wall. //It’s not fair, it’s not fair!!// I screamed inside my head, furious at the circumstances that had forced me to give up the precious ticket to see my idols, the Rolling Stones. But the sobs that wracked my body came from my recognition of the ugly truth: I had no one but myself to blame for my predicament. **===


 * At fifteen, the two things I loved most in the world were performing in plays and Keith Richards, the motley, drug-addicted guitarist for the Rolling Stones. The latter of these two obsessions gave my parents fits, as they could not understand how their nice, otherwise intelligent and normal daughter could be attracted to such an anti-role model. My dad was a school counselor, though, so he knew that all young people flirt with the dark side now and then, and most end up growing into well-adjusted adults. (I may still have an occasional attraction to odd and artsy kinds of celebrities, like Johnny Depp and Viggo Mortensen, but I don’t keep their posters on my walls.) In any event, it was with great reluctance that, in the spring of my freshman year, they let me buy a ticket to go see the Stones with my old best friend from junior high. Lola was the music junkie who’d introduced me to the band a few years before. My ticket cost $16.00, which back then was about five nights’ worth of babysitting money. I would’ve paid twice that. **


 * [[image:godspell_logo_sm2.jpeg width="302" height="313" align="right"]]But teenagers have always been notorious for their inability to see beyond tomorrow, and I guess I was no exception. I hadn't yet made the transformation into the woman with a calendar in every room of her house -- but certainly what happened that summer nudged me in that direction. When the school year ended and I learned of auditions for //Godspell//, the summer musical at my school, I immediately jumped at the chance to be involved. My guitar-playing skills landed me one of the ten coveted roles, and I found myself part of an ensemble comprised of actors and musicians who were all older than I was. I was in awe of them. Rehearsals were intense, and I worked hard to keep up and be as good as these older performers, two of whom were even in college. They came to accept me and even began including me in their after-rehearsal trips to JoJo’s for ice cream. **


 * And then, as opening night neared, I got a call from Lola. “So, what time do you think we should leave on Thursday? My dad says he’ll drive us. What are you going to wear?” **


 * I stood dumb, struck blind and speechless. “What?” I squeaked into the phone. **


 * “Are you kidding? The concert! It’s this Thursday!” **


 * I had completely forgotten about the concert. It had been a vague, future adventure, far off at the end of summer, not anything I had to think about right now. But all at once it dawned on me that right now //was// the end of summer, and the concert date fell on the night of our final dress rehearsal for //Godspell//, the most important rehearsal of all. **


 * I told Lola I’d call her back and then burst into tears. **


 * My dad came out to the kitchen where I stood slumped against the counter. Through heavy sobs, I explained my conundrum to him, knowing full well what his response would be. **


 * “Well,” he stated calmly, “You’ll have to ask Mr. Lebin to be excused from rehearsal and hope that he lets you, and if he doesn’t, you’ll have to give your ticket to someone else.” **


 * I burst into a new round of tears. “But he won’t let me!” I cried. “I know he won’t! I can’t even ask him!” **


 * My father wrapped his arms around me and held me for a while. “I wish there was some way I could make the problem go away, honey, but I can’t. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” **


 * I’d like to say that I accepted my error with class and grace, apologizing to Lola for my oversight and attending rehearsal happily. But I didn’t. Instead, I told my best friend Tracey, who was on stage crew, that I was going to pretend to be coming down with the flu at Wednesday’s rehearsal and then call in sick on Thursday. I would tell my parents that the director said I could miss practice, and off I’d go with Lola and her dad downtown. It had to work! A little voice inside my head tried to tell me it was wrong, and that I’d feel terrible with myself for doing it, but I shut that voice up good. I hadn’t yet learned the painful lesson that keeping a rotten secret creates a rotten conscience. **


 * [[image:stage.jpg width="405" height="288" align="left"]]At Wednesday’s rehearsal I was a wreck. I was distracted by my plan and torn with the notion that I would have to fake an illness, which would make me look weak in the eyes of my fellow cast members, older students whose acceptance I had worked so hard to achieve. Scene after scene I struggled through, missing cues and catching a couple of reprimands from Mr. Lebin, whose scoldings burned me with shame. Halfway through rehearsal, I realized I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend to be sick, and I couldn’t leave this wonderful group of performers in the lurch at our important final rehearsal. But I was not to be let off so easily. **


 * “Miss Hutchinson! Come see me please!” Mr. Lebin’s voice called out from the back of the theater as soon as the final notes of curtain call had died down. **


 * I could have thrown up right then and there. //He knows! How can he know?// Fear seized me and I began to sweat. My legs shook with each step I took down from the stage, and up the aisle on that long walk to the back of the theater. People hustled around me, getting their things together, closing up the stage for the night, oblivious to my doom. All I could see was the tall, dark figure of my director, waiting for me at the top of the aisle. **


 * I stopped in front of him and looked up, tears welling in my eyes. **


 * “What’s this I hear?” he said quietly, in a tone that would freeze the blood of Dracula. “That you would //dare// not show up tomorrow night?” **


 * That did it. I turned to jelly in front of him and proceeded to bawl out my incoherent confession. “No, I’ll be here – I have to be here – it’s all wrong – I never meant to do it --!” I babbled, earnestly, shamefully, feeling like I was about six inches tall. **


 * All Mr. Lebin did was smile. “I knew what I heard had to be a mistake. Because I knew someone like you, who wants to be a part of many more shows here at this school, would never do such a horribly selfish thing to the members of this fine cast and crew.” **

=** I don’t remember the details of what followed, how I got home that night, who else might have heard about my little scheme, or how I broke the news to Lola. I do know that we went on to perform standing-room-only shows of //Godspell// and added a whole second weekend due to the demand. I went on to have several more leads on that stage and others. My sister went with Lola to see the Rolling Stones, and our friendship slowly faded after that. ** I never did find out how Mr. Lebin discovered my secret. Maybe I never asked because I didn't want to know which of my friends had betrayed me. Or maybe, deep down, I realized that they had done the right thing by exposing my fraud.=


 * Over the years I’ve had many opportunities to see the Rolling Stones, but I’ve never wanted to shell out the money. The posters have long been buried in a landfill somewhere, and Mick and Keith are now shriveled old grandpas, still trying to belt out “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” to a new young audience. At the school where I teach, I now get to oversee talented groups of teenagers putting on plays and musicals every year. I attend every one of them, and I enjoy them all. **

= 1. Identify the elements of the NARRATIVE ARC: Exposition, Inciting Incident, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, Resolution. = = = = 2. Where does the writer step out of the past narrative and bring her perspective up to present time, using a "now voice"? (Hint: It happens more than once!) = = = = 3. What is the universal message imparted in the story? Is it stated or implied? =