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Cicada Days
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i can feel something inside me say
[ *  *  *  * ]
Make a circle, make a circle...

"Summertree? Never heard of." Nate wasn't completely alone in that regard, at least. While Irene could be counted on to have twenty questions worth of useless trivia knowledge at any given time it was rarely actually applicable. A few more chairs were hobbled over to the circle, Irene unceremoniously dumped one besides Coleen's most recent acquisition. "Mmm." Jane had asked her a question. She barely avoided holding up traffic as her hands scrounged through the little crevasses on her pants, but she came up empty handed. Honestly, why had she even bothered? Girl jeans in her fit barely had room for air in their pockets, let alone actual items. "Either I didn't bring or I left in my bag. Which I either forgot either in the locker room or in Mr. Dukoff's class." Schrodinger's acting exercise, possibly never to be found again.

"I think you guys should do Jane's thing though, it sounds funsies." Irene fumbled with one of the final chairs necessary, trying to bear hug the back of the chair to her chest. "Nate can show us his legendary improv swag, eeeyyy." Again, she did genuinely admire most of her peers in the class for at least some facet of their talent. It was a good crew they had this year, occasional casting slip ups aside. Back in her day getting cast meant going uphill to school both ways. Wait, hadn't most of these guys been there Freshman year too?
The Dies Before First Rolls Squad

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The Theatrics Formula · West Wing