Chapter 14: The Audition

Professor Fenstrom sent Kenny an email with instructions of how to prepare for the audition for his play. He suggested that he dress and appear as if he was a 15-year-old girl, perhaps even to the extent of putting his hair in pigtails. Also he was sent two pages of a script, which portrayed a teen girl, named Amy, talking to a boy who was several years older. He was told to study the part of Amy and be prepared to do her lines in the audition. He did not need to memorize them, he was told, since he could refer to the script.

Also, Professor Fenstrom said he should come with a short reading of his own — to be done from memory. Kenny chose a scene from Act II, Scene I of Hamlet in which Ophelia describes to her father, Polonius, about a visit she got from Prince Hamlet:

“He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;”

Kenny loved the scene in which he had to show both Ophelia’s budding love for Hamlet with a wariness and confusion as to his real motives. He recalled how strongly he identified with Ophelia and her feelings of affection for the troubled Prince. He hoped he could rekindle the spirit he felt on the night of the play when he performed the part opposite Mark Hamilton, playing Hamlet. Like Ophelia had for Hamlet, Kenny (as Karen) had developed a deep love for Mark, who had deserted Karen just as Hamlet deserted Ophelia.

Fenstrom’s student group was to perform the play, an original script entitled “Traitor’s Daughter” by a local playwright. The character, Amy, was the central figure in the play. She is described as being shy and retiring but with an underlying strength that few saw. The playwright described Amy as being a rather plain-looking girl with few friends; she looked fragile and dressed in simple, unstylish dresses, far out of fashion for the World War II era in which the play was based. Most girls shunned her because of her rather dumpy looks.

The play’s main plot involved Amy learning that her father might be a Nazi sympathizer, subjecting her to even greater shame and taunting. She doesn’t believe the stories and sets about to learn the truth while facing terrible abuse at the hands of the family’s neighbors and her classmates. It’s then when her determination, intelligence and pluck surface. She even gets her first boyfriend.

Kenny loved the plot, but recognized the challenge of portraying a rather unfortunate girl with both sympathy and strength. He realized he’d have to act, not merely be a pretty face on the stage.

*****
He was directed to the University Theater’s Green Room upon his arrival for the audition. Three girls were also in the room, all petite, round-faced and seemingly in their mid-teens, though that all of the actors in the play were actually university students. He realized that in his Karen mode he looked much the same, like a petite 15-year-old girl.

Each girl sat nervously, saying nothing, each holding the same script and instructions sheet that Kenny had received. Unlike the others, who were all heavily made up and wore dresses, Kenny had put on pale-colored lipstick, a modest bit of eyeliner and light mascara, hoping to keep a warm, natural look. He let his hair flow naturally, topping it with a purple headband. He was the only one not wearing a dress, realizing the difficulty of walking through his dormitory with an overtly feminine look. Instead, he wore dark Capri pants, a light pinkish sweater with short cap sleeves and the bodice that dipped almost to the top of his bra.

He shared a tentative “hi” to the other girls, who barely acknowledged him. Each was obviously dealing with her own demons over the auditions.

Two of the girls were called first with each girl taking about ten minutes before the next was called, leaving Kenny still in the Green Room with one girl, a freckle-faced girl with sparkling blue eyes, who introduced herself as Heather. She spoke first as the two sat together, nervously eying the other.

“May the best girl win,” she said, her tone warm and friendly.

Kenny giggled, happy the girl had broken the ice in the room.

“I guess that’s fair,” Kenny said.

“You a freshman, too,” Heather asked.

“Yes. You kinda scared, too?”

Heather laughed. “Scared out of my wits. Did you see how big that theater is? Wow.”

“I know,” Kenny said. “I did some high school plays and a summer camp theater program, but this is so scary.”

Heather was from a small town in the far northwest part of the state, an area full of lakes and forests and logging and paper mills and was in a high school of less than 400 students.

“Me too. I did plays in high school and community theater, but nothing like this,” she said.

Heather was called next, and Kenny wished her luck; she did the same. Kenny meant it, and he was sure Heather did as well. Kenny felt a sisterly friendship between the two.

“Last to audition is Karen Hansson.” Kenny heard Professor Fenstrom’s voice boom from out of the darkness as he walked onto a huge stage that was bathed in stark white light. Kenny attempted to peer into the darkened theater before him, but was blinded by the stage lights. He realized there must be at least a half dozen persons sitting there, judging the audition. His felt sick to his stomach suddenly, feeling almost ready to vomit as a hint of bile rose in his throat. Swallowing hard, he walked erect and serenely onto the stage, hoping to hide his nervousness.

“Step to the chalk line in the center of the stage, honey,” said another voice. “As you recite your lines, dear, stay behind but within two feet of the line. You may move back and forth if you feel it necessary, but not beyond the ends of the line. Understand dear?”

“Yes, sir,” Kenny nodded.

“Now you may start when ready to read the lines you have chosen, Karen,” Fenstrom’s voice said. “But tell us the source, Ok?”

Kenny was comforted by the kind and encouraging tone in the professor’s voice.

Kenny put the script he was holding on the stage floor in front of him, taking a moment to compose himself before speaking. It was at that moment that the image of Mark (as Hamlet) entered his mind and Kenny became Ophelia, shocked and saddened at Hamlet’s strange behavior. He read the lines as he had the night of the play, with passion, sadness and confusion all at once. He ended, almost collapsing on the stage to dramatize the moment.

He expected applause, but none came. Not even a well-done. He heard a slight buzzing among the folks in the darkness.

A third voice commanded. “Now let’s do the scripted part, Karen. I’ll read the other actor’s lines and you respond as the script notes. You may look at the script as we perform.”

“I won’t need to, sir,” he said.

“Ok, then, it’s your funeral.”

The voice started with the opening line, and Kenny (who had rehearsed the lines with Jenny several times) soon fell into the mood of the scene, repeating the lines perfectly, and, he felt, with appropriate emotion. In fact, he felt so good he wished there was someone on stage to share “high fives.”

All Kenny got, however, was a curt “Thank you” from Professor Fenstrom. “We’ll let you know by email by the end of the day tomorrow our decision, Karen.”

Kenny left the stage and walked out of the audition still in shock over the experience. He must have done horribly, he thought. As he left the building, he was pleased to see Heather was there, waiting for him.

“How did you do, Karen?”

“I thought I did pretty good, but I got no reaction from them. Just a ‘thank you.’”

“Same here. Nothing. They were silent.”

“That’s so cruel,” Kenny said.

“At least they could have said something. I wanted to cry when I left.”

“Me too, and I feel like crying now,” Kenny said.

“Let’s cry together,” Heather said, quickly putting her arms around him, and he responded by drawing her slender, dainty body to his and they both began sobbing, a sobbing that quickly ended in giggles.

Kenny felt so good being in the world of girls.

*****
“How did it go?” It was Gabe’s voice, coming up from behind Kenny as he and Heather walked toward their dorm rooms, both located in the same direction.

“Oh, Gabe, there you are,” Kenny said, turning around.

“I was waiting for you, Karen,” he said softly, eying Heather closely.

“Oh, Gabe, this is Heather. She also auditioned for the part,” he said.

Gabe and Heather exchanged brief “hi’s.”

“Well you two looked awful chummy for rivals,” Gabe said. “I saw you hugging.”

“Oh, we were just commiserating with each other, ‘cause they didn’t tell us how we did,” Heather explained.

“Yeah, they’ll let us know tomorrow, I guess,” Kenny said.

“I think Karen will get it,” Heather said. “She’s the cutest of the four who auditioned.”

Kenny blushed, and said: “I don’t know about that, Heather, you look pretty cute to me. It just depends upon who they want and who read their lines the best.”

“You’re both cute,” Gabe said.

“Such a diplomat,” Kenny said, moving to Gabe’s side and reaching around to hug him, as she patted his soft tummy. He always felt so tiny and fragile next the large boy.

“Guess I better run along,” Heather said.

“Nice meeting you, Heather,” Gabe said quickly. Kenny nodded in agreement.

“Bye Bye and may the best girl win,” Heather said, as she walked off.

Gabe took Kenny’s hand as they headed off to a pizza parlor. “Did you forget I was going to take you for pizza after the audition?” Gabe asked.

“Ah . . . oh . . . I guess it slipped my mind,” Kenny admitted. “Heather and I were both so excited after the audition.”

“To forget our date?”

“I’m sorry, Gabe, really, I’m sorry. It’s not like me to forget something like that.”

“Guess I don’t count in your life,” he said.

“Oh, Gabe. Forgive me, it’s just that Heather and I got talking.”

“You don’t have to have pizza with me if you don’t want to,” he said.

“But I do, Gabe. I do, really.”

“Ok, then, let’s go,” he said. He grabbed Kenny’s hand roughly and almost violently.

Kenny had to nearly run to keep up with his long purposeful strides. He knew Gabe had felt hurt by the nearly missed date, and it troubled Kenny to realize how jealous this big, husky boy had become. It wasn’t an easy realization.

All through their pizza date (Kenny, however, skipped pizza and chose an Italian salad and garlic sticks), Kenny’s mind wondered how deep Gabe’s jealousy ran. Did it involve the boy’s temper running amok and perhaps causing harm to either Kenny or some other person? He thought, too, of Angela’s jealousy and had seen her anger, too.

He tried his best to keep up the conversation with Gabe and to show him his undivided attention, but it didn’t seem to work. Gabe sensed Kenny’s uneasiness, and soon sought to resume being sweet and gentle. In response, Kenny snuggled up next to Gabe as they ate; they were seated next to each other in a booth and their thighs touched with their arms brushing together. Kenny welcomed the warmth from the boy’s large body and he felt strange stiffening in the nipples on his chest and in his hardening penis. Yet, he remained wary over the quick anger that had engulfed his potential and jealous lover.

*****
Kenny had Gabe drop him off several hundred yards from the dormitory that night, in spite of Gabe’s insistence that he accompany him to his dormitory door. “You’re not safe going their alone, Karen, and facing those animals in that dorm,” he argued.

“Gabe, darling,” she said. “I don’t want you to have to be taunted by those boys either. They can be so cruel.”

“I’m a big boy,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, you are,” he giggled, giving his tummy a gentle squeeze. “But, just associating with me will get you tagged as some sort fag or sissy. It’s not fair for you to fight my battles.”

“But . . . but . . .but, I want to protect you.”

“You already have, dear, and I love you for it, but that’s too much to ask.”

With that, Kenny pecked Gabe on the cheek and turned to run toward the dorm, leaving Gabe standing open-mouthed. He watched Kenny run, seeing only a lovely girl moving in short, quick steps, arms moving loosely.

The lobby was mercifully empty of students and none were outside smoking either, and Kenny, puffing a bit from his short run, felt at ease as he approached his room. Even the door to Tom’s room was closed, indicating none of the louts was hanging around, ready to harass him. He had his key out, about to open the door, when he saw something pink hanging from a nail in the middle of his door. It was a panty, rimmed with lace while traces of feces shown prominently on the cloth. A crude note in crayon was taped to the panty: “You missing these, faggot.”

Kenny was embarrassed and angry. He clenched his fist, wanting to punch somebody, but instead he started to sob. He took down the offending underthing, looking both ways down the hall, seeing no one. At least, no one saw his shameful sobbing.

It was the second such incident. Two days earlier, someone slipped a note under his door that read: “No cunts on this floor. You belong on 2nd floor.”

His inclination was to tear both notes up, but he decided to save them, locking them in a drawer that was provided to all students for their valuables. He pulled the previous note out, and placed both on his desk side-by-side. Both were in crayon, written in block letters that seemed to match perfectly. The same person wrote the notes, it seemed obvious.

“What did I do to these guys?” Kenny asked himself as he stared at both notes. “Nobody deserves this.”

He flung himself on his bed, feeling so depressed. Why couldn’t he be accepted by boys? Why was he treated so badly? Maybe he did deserve being shamed; after all, he was so pathetic as a boy. Was there any boy as weak as he was? Weren’t boys supposed to manly and have muscles and play rough games like football? He hated the thought of hitting people or being hit himself? He suddenly felt so powerless and useless. He cried and cried and cried.

Still sobbing on the bed, he heard his cell phone tingle, indicating he received a text message. After a few moments, the crying abated and with tear-filled eyes, he opened the phone to check the message:

“I love u, Karen. Gabe”

And he began crying again. “I am a girl, I am a girl, I am a girl,” he repeated over and over again as he cried into his pillow. “I am a girl . . . girl . . . girl . . .”

*****
Kenny’s email inbox the next day had two messages from Gabe:

“Have u heard about the audition? My fingers are crossed for u . . . Love, Gabe,”

and

“No word yet? Praying. Love, Gabe.”

He got the second one while in the student union, seated among Jenny’s friends whose attention was focused on the new hairdo of one of the girls. Kenny couldn’t help but smile as he read the last message from Gabe, and his reaction was noticed by Jenny.

“I bet that was from a boy,” she whispered to Kenny.

Kenny blushed, answered only with a giggle.

“You’re holding out on me, Karen. You must have a boy friend.”

Even though Jenny kept her voice low, the other girls’ ears perked up at the word “boyfriend.”

“You have a BF, Karen?” asked Tracy.

“She must have,” Jenny said. “And she just got a message from him, I bet.”

Kenny kept his head down, hoping they’d change the subject, but the girls weren’t going let him do that. Boys, it seemed to Kenny, were always on the minds of the girls, perhaps because none of them, except for Jenny, seemed to have a boyfriend. He loved this group of girls, all of whom were open, friendly and obviously intelligent; yet, none of them could be classified as a “beauty.”

“Come on Karen, who is he?” Beverly, one of the other girls, asked.

Finally Kenny raised his head. “Just a boy I met by accident. We’ve only had a coffee date and a pizza date. Nothing special.”

“The way you’re blushing, I think he must be special,” Beverly giggled.

“He’s nice, but we only just met.”

Kenny was saved by the clock, since the conversation ended as it was time to leave for class.

*****
At lunch time, Kenny checked his phone again for messages, finding one from Professor Fenstrom.

This was it, he feared. He was to get the word of whether he got the part in the play, a prospect that both thrilled him and scared him. To actually be chosen would be a terrible challenge, not only to be required to perform, but to face the situation of being a boy playing the part of a girl. It would surely raise issues within the University and perhaps lead him to even more harassment. He paused before opening the message.

“Karen: I regret to inform you that another girl has been chosen for the part of Amy in the play. Please do not take this as any reflection upon your acting ability. Your performances in both your chosen reading and in the script overwhelmed me and my colleagues. However, for circumstances that may be obvious to you, we deemed it unwise at this point to choose you for the part.

“I deeply regret this decision, but the play’s producers felt it was necessary. We do not want to discourage your acting ambitions in any way. I’d like to discuss this with you further. I would like you to come to see me tomorrow at 4 p.m. backstage at the theater. Please let me know if you will be able to make it.

“Best wishes, Fenstrom.”

Kenny reread the message again. He was shocked; for some strange reason, he felt he had nailed the part. He felt he had portrayed a shy, lovely teen girl perfectly. It was puzzling, and he was surprised that he didn’t break into tears, as he seemed to be doing more often recently.

It was only then that he realized the real reason. It was contained in the sentence that read “for circumstances that may be obvious to you. . .” They knew he was a boy, acting under a convincingly feminine appearance. It was then that he cried: he was not the lovely girl he imagined himself to be. He was a freak of nature — neither boy nor girl.

*****
“No honey, you’re a girl — the most girly girl I know,” Angela said, as the two nestled together in Angela’s bed that night.

Kenny clung to his friend, his soft, smooth, tender body against Angela’s hard muscular frame, their legs intertwined. He sobbed almost inaudibly, his face buried into the neck of the girl, as she gently caressed his hair.

“You have lovely hair. I love the scent,” Angela purred.

That evening there had been no wild, sometimes violent sex, as often featured their love-making. Kenny and Angela met after dinner, and the girl had sensed his distress immediately and after considerable prodding, Kenny told her the whole story as to how he had been rejected for the part in the play.

“Oh Angela, I’m just a freak,” he had cried, collapsing into the girl’s arms.

After long embraces, the two separated, and Angela and Kenny lay there, half asleep, saying nothing. Kenny’s sobbing finally ended, and Angela repeated her words, “honey, you’re a girl — the most girly girl I know.”

“I feel I am,” he said quietly.

“Besides, the professor wants to see you again, doesn’t he? I’m sure he sees you have talent. Remember, he saw you only as a girl at first.”

“I know.”

After a while, Kenny said, “I guess I better get back to the dorm.”

“I wish you could stay right here with me, Karen,” Angela said. “You feel so good.”

“Me too,” he added. “But I better not. I still should look at my geography book tonight. We have a quiz tomorrow.”

“Maybe next semester, you could move in here,” she suggested. “I think there’ll be openings.”

“But they won’t take boys here will they?”

Angela laughed. “No, but who said you’re a boy?”

Kenny giggled, wondering if they could accomplish such a move. He hated the dorm and each day he awoke with fear over what new humiliations he might face. Yet, he knew he was locked by contract into spending a full school year as a dormitory resident as long as he continued to be a fulltime student. Briefly, he considered dropping out, but rejected that idea immediately, realizing that his mother had sacrificed immensely to make it possible for him to attend. Besides, he truly enjoyed the learning experience.

Angela was aware of Kenny’s difficulties in the dorm, and as had become a routine, drove him back to the dorm, demonstrably performing a “good night” kiss in the hopes of dispelling Kenny’s image of being a faggot, sissy or girl. It never really stopped the harassment.

This night was no exception; there was plastic bag of used tampons tacked to his door with a note: “Did you lose these?”

*****
For school days, Kenny usually wore fairly nondescript, androgynous clothing and this Friday, when he was to meet Professor Fenstrom, was no different. He wore hip-hugging, girl jeans, a light blue polo shirt and a beige-colored zip-up jacket. He tied his long hair in a pony tail, and wore no makeup.

The backstage of the University Theater was dimly lit, the only light coming from a picnic table far back on stage left, where two men and a woman, all dressed in work clothes, were lounging , a soda bottle and two cups of coffee in front of them. They were laughing about something and obviously were on break from the backstage chores, or had just gotten to work.

“You looking for the prof, young lady?” yelled one of the men.

Kenny nodded.

“Take the stairs up to the second level. He’s in Dressing Room B.”

Kenny gave them a girlish wave, and proceeded up the stairs. As he walked away, he overheard the woman say: “I bet Fenstrom chose her for the part. I saw her in the audition and she was the best I thought.”

The words cheered Kenny, who had heard that stagehands often can be the best judges of talent.

“I’m glad you could make it, Karen,” Fenstrom said, motioning to Kenny to take a seat in front of a vanity and mirror in the waiting room. Fenstrom was seated at a small desk, and Kenny realized he must use this room as sort of a remote office.

Fenstrom echoed what Kenny heard the stagehand say before. “You were easily the best of the auditions, Karen, but the producers just weren’t prepared for the risk.”

“I guess I understand, professor,” Kenny said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“I fought for you, Karen. I really did, and if we were producing Hamlet or a show where a boy is supposed to dress up like a girl, that would be fine. This part, however, was for a cute teen girl, which I was convinced you could handle easily. But they were so afraid of the backlash. We’d have to bill you as Kenny, a boy, playing Amy, a girl. And they were so afraid of the religious nuts that are popping up all over these days.”

Kenny was silent. He totally understood the situation.

“I don’t want you to lose interest in the theater, dear,” Fenstrom continued.

“Oh I won’t. I find I love it so much, but I only feel comfortable acting as a girl. I’m not macho enough to play boy parts.”

“No, you’re not.”

The professor asked Kenny what his plans were about his gender and Kenny replied that he was beginning treatment at the gender clinic and hoped he’d eventually be a candidate for transitioning.

“I’m hoping to attend the University next year as Karen, not Kenny,” he said.

“Then you’ve decided to transition?”

“I am pretty sure, sir. It depends on what the psychiatrist and the doctor thinks, but they seem to think I should be a good candidate for transitioning. I can hardly wait.”

“Tell you what,” Fenstorm said. “We have a small part for a girl to play a waitress. She says only about three lines, but she appears several times in scenes. You’d be perfect for the part. How about it?”

Kenny smiled. “I’d like that.”

Fenstrom reached into his briefcase and extracted a partial script, handing it to Kenny. “Here’s the part. You’ll be Marianne. Read it over. We begin rehearsals at 5 p.m. next Monday and we rehearse Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays at five. You will not have to attend all the rehearsals and only those for these scenes. We’ll let you know when you’re needed. Ok?”

“Oh professor, that’s great. You’re so sweet to think of me,” Kenny said.

The professor rose from his seat, signaling the end of the meeting, and Kenny rose from his seat, moving next to the professor and instinctively gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. “Thank you professor.”

Fenstrom’s arm held Kenny and returned the kiss with a hug, holding Kenny firmly for a few seconds more, finally releasing him. For an instant, Kenny felt the professor was about to kiss him back and prolong the hug.

Kenny, now red-faced and embarrassed by his sudden show of affection, turned to leave the room.

“By the way, Karen, Heather got the part of Amy,” Fenstrom said.

“She did?” Kenny said, turning back and looking at the professor, still mad at himself for his impulsive show of affection, but now becoming wary of the attention the professor had shown.

“Yes, Karen, she did, but she still wasn’t as perfect for the part as you were,” he said.

Kenny had become fond of Heather, even with the short time the two had been together.

“I think she’ll do just fine, professor,” he said. “I’m rooting for her.”

“Good for you, honey,” Fenstrom said, his voice growing intimate. “You’re a real trouper to say that. She’ll need support of a girl friend like you as we rehearse. I’m happy you’ll be around, Karen.”

“Thank you, Professor Fenstrom,” Kenny said, turning again to leave.

“Oh, and Karen, feel free to come see me anytime if you have a question, or just want to talk. Anytime.”

The professor’s voice softened as he spoke, and Kenny felt as if the voice were caressing him, kissing him and smothering him. What was this old man doing?