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"Ricky, would you wait for me in my office please?" Miss Jenn says, her lips turned down in a disappointed frown.
Ricky's stomach drops. Somehow, he managed ruin everything within just two minutes arriving. As he leaves the room, he can feel everyone staring at him. He knows they're all judging him, hating him, because he's the reason rehearsal is cancelled (again).
He's so disorganized, so stupid. He doesn't blame his castmates for hating him.
Ricky walks to Miss Jenn's office on trembling knees, his heart pounding. He's sinking into his imaginary hole in the floor and he's helples to try and stop himself.
Everything's just too much.
Instantly, Ricky's eyes burn. His parents are splitting up, rehearsal's cancelled, everyone's furious with him and he has no one to blame but himself. Today's just horrible in general.
He can't hear anything except the leftover echoes of his mom screaming at his dad from an hour ago. Basically, Mom and Dad were fighting, Ricky was upset, which made them even more upset, because "you're making him feel bad, shut up!".
And now Miss Jenn is going to yell at him too, because Ricky has, yet again, fucked up. It's not enough that he's already horrible at acting, awful at dancing, and not on pitch half the time.
Just the thought of hearing another grown-up yell makes Ricky sick to his stomach.
When he gets to Miss Jenn's office, he sits himself down on her burlap textured couch. Ricky quickly finds that he's too anxious to sit still, but adults hate when he bounces his leg, so he snatches up a stiff throw pillow and starts rubbing the fabric instead. It doesn't help.
Ricky spends the next five minutes trying desprately to calm down. It's so hard to hold tears back, and he knows the second Miss Jenn raises her voice, it's over. He's aware crying will make it so much worse than it has to be, but it's impossible to get his eyes to listen to his brain.
When Miss Jenn steps into the office, duly closing the door behind her, Ricky can't help but tense up.
She sits at her desk and begins unpacking a faded messenger backpack. "Ricky, I know that you're very new to theatre," she begins, "and I've done my best to teach you the proper edict of how to, well, function in a rehearsal."
Ricky squeezes the pillow. The yelling's coming, he can feel it.
"We've already had this conversation. A big role comes with big responsibilities," She continues, not looking at Ricky and shuffling papers.
A tear trickles down Ricky's face, and he has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep quiet.
"Coming to rehearsal, late, with no script, no pencil, is unacceptable."
Ricky puts his head down as far as his spine will allow. He's a disappointment to everyone around him, it makes his head throb and his stomach twist.
Miss Jenn plows through, oblivious to Ricky's struggle. "I really thought you'd step up and at least try to improve," Miss Jenn's voice raises the slightest bit in volume. "Showing up late to every rehearsal isn't exactly promising. There's absolutely no excuse for being thirty minutes late, Ricky, so unless it was an emergency-"
Suddenly, Ricky feels her eyes on him. He rubs the pillow's rough fabric harder, trying to hide the tremble in his fingers.
"Ricky?" Miss Jenn's tone is drastically softer, but Ricky can hear the shock in her voice.
Miss Jenn steps toward him. Her hands hover in the air like she wants to touch him, but she's not quite sure how he'd react.
Her breath hitches. "Sweetie, are you crying?"
Ricky's eyes are glued to his lap. Even if he did look up, he wouldn't be able to see with blurry vision, so he keeps his head down and lets his tears fall onto the pillow. But, the tiny saltwater drops easily stain the pillow's light blue shade. For what feels like the hundredth time today, Ricky's stomach aches with guilt.
"Ricky," his teacher presses carefully, "what's wrong?"
Ricky knows that if he tries to speak, his voice is going to come out sounding weak and pathetic, and he doesn't know if he can handle anyone other than Nini hearing him like that.
Suddenly, Miss Jenn is sitting on the couch with him, just a cushion away. Regardless of his obvious flinch, Miss Jenn lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, honey?"
There's something about Miss Jenn calling him honey that painfully reminds him of his mom, back when she still stuck around. It's a simple phrase, but it leaves a gaping hole in his chest. Anything that might have remotely been holding him together comes crashing down.
Ricky hears himself sob before he can register that he's crying. Before he knows it, a body slides next him.
Miss Jenn holds him tight. For a fleeting moment, Ricky thinks Mom, but he knows he's wrong, and it just makes him cry harder. He feels his tears soaking Miss Jenn's shirt; he knows he's ruined her outfit, and it's just salt in the wound.
"'M sorry," he cries. Ricky can't even bring himself to care how embarrassing it is to cry in front of a teacher. He's been crying for less than a minute and his chest already feels lighter.
Miss Jenn rubs his back and whispers things like, You're going to be okay, and, It's okay to cry, sweetie.
It's been awhile since Ricky's received any level of affection, and just the action of Miss Jenn murmuring words of comfort while he lays his head on her shoulder calms him down significantly.
Ricky's mind gradually slips into the post-crying state where everything feels muted and a little hazy. His mouth is dry, and he wonders when he stopped sobbing.
Ricky's face is still mushed against Miss Jenn's shoulder when she asks lightly, "Do you want to talk?"
He doesn't know what to say. Ricky definitely doesn't want to talk to his teacher about issues, but it's not like he's surrounded by people wanting to listen.
Ricky doesn't know how to communicate that all he wants is a hug. So, he stays quiet and hopes she understands.
Instead, Miss Jenn detaches from him and gently pushes him away. Ricky doesn't have the words to convey how much he wants her to keep holding him for the rest of the day, so, reluctantly, he pulls away.
When their eyes meet, Miss Jenn delievers a thin smile, and speaks softly, "Do you feel better?"
He wipes at his eyes, "My head hurts a lot."
As predicted, Ricky's voice is weak and gravelly, just all around unpleasant. Either Miss Jenn doesn't notice, or she chooses not to react. Either way, Ricky's thankful.
"I bet," She chuckles warmly. She takes in his glassy, unfocused eyes, flushed cheeks, and his awful posture. Miss Jenn feels her heart beating faster with an increasing level of panic. It's clear that Ricky isn't in the best mental state, but she has no idea how to help.
Miss Jenn clears her throat. "Do you...do you need to go to guidance?" She offers kindly.
"No," Ricky blurted instantly. There's absolutely no way he's going to willing talk to a public high school councilor about his person problems. He's pretty sure that would land him in more trouble than he's already in.
Miss Jenn nods. An uncomfortable silence chokes them as they both rack their brains for things to say. Slowly, Ricky comes to his senses.
"I'm really sorry. About everything," He whispers, sparing a glance at Miss Jenn. "I've been trying to-to be better, but, um...it's just, there's a lot going on? A-At home, I mean, and I promise, I've been trying, but it hasn't really been working." Ricky looks down and bites his lip. "I'm sorry, for...crying, and ruining rehearsal."
Miss Jenn gently places her hand on Ricky's back, causing his head to snap up at the contact.
"Sweetie...you don't have to apologize. You can cry anytime you want, okay? I'm not mad," She says softly, carefully rubbing circles on his back.
White hot anger suddenly floods Ricky's body, like the pressure of a knotted hose being released.
Ricky despises everything. All the kindness she's giving him, the gentleness, being all caring. He doesn't deserve any of it, not after all the trouble he's caused. Just sitting, listening to Miss Jenn tell him that she's not upset with him leaves him almost shaking with fury.
She should be angry with him, she should want to kick him out of the show. She has all the rights in the world to tell Ricky how rude and arrogant he's been. How his behavior has been disgusting and intolerable. But, Miss Jenn says none of those things.
Ricky thinks he might explode if he stays on that couch for one more minute.
He rockets up, shoving his teacher's hand off of him.
"I think I should go." It's shocking how small his voice comes out compared to the rush of adrenalin he's feeling.
Miss Jenn stays on the couch, baffled. "What?"
"I'm gonna go," He says spontaneously. Miss Jenn, unexpectedly equipped with cat-like reflexes, grabs his elbow.
"Are you sure? Honey, I don't think being on your own is the best idea right now-"
Ricky feels like he's going to implode. He feels hot, angry, and claustrophobic all at once.
"I'm sorry, I need to go," he murmurs.
He doesn't stick around to hear what else she has to say. Like a bat out of hell, he takes off, darting out of the cramped office.
Ricky sprints down the hall, not giving a fuck how he looks. At the first sight of a bathroom, Ricky runs in, locking the door behind him.
He slides down the wall, legs already pulled to his chest. God, breathing has never been this difficult before. Ricky runs on autopilot, yanking his phone from his jeans.
It isn't until the message is sent and read that he realizes he just texted his ex-girlfriend.
Whatever. It doesn't matter, he doesn't care. He just needs to figure out how to operate his lungs again.
He can hold on until Nini comes. He can. He's going to have to.