Bright lights blind my eyes and the makeup feels like it is about to melt off of my face. My smile is large and over exaggerated, making my cheeks hurt. I am frozen, my right arm is extended horizontally, my elbow slightly bent with my fingers pointed up to the ceiling and my palm facing the wall. My left arm is lifted, draping over my head with my wrist and hand both limp. My silky hot pink shirt is tailored tight, restricting my breath, but I am still able to open my mouth and belt out my songs.

The band waits for the audience to stop applauding before they start playing; it is my cue to move again. I twirl through rows of people, all dressed in black with red sashes around their waists and paper boy hats on top of their heads. Their characters do not see me, though my character, the fictional Ringa Starr, attempts to get their attention. They suddenly swirl around me, picking me up high above their heads, and spin me in a circle. Their eyes are forward, away from me. They pretend not to see me; they only feel my presence. They set me down, and with a deep breath I open my mouth to sing with as much feeling as I have inside of me:

All you need is love!
All you need is love!
All you need is love, love;
love is all you need!

Ringa Starr

My eighth grade year I was in a play called “Come Together.” It was written by a woman who always insisted, “Oh! Call me Karen!”

The story was about four different people, all in different places and time periods, magically ending up in one room together. The four characters all have their own problems, fighting with each other until the end of the play, where they finally reach understanding of their many differences.

There was John (representing John Lennon); he lived in England while WWI was taking place. He was going to be drafted, but after receiving a message from his deceased father, he played his flute at midnight, and was transported far away.

There was Jyoti (representing George Harrison): she lived in India during 1927. She was being forced to marry a man in his eighties, even though she was only thirteen. She went to a temple where she asked the gods and goddesses for help. They gave her a sitar, and when she played it, she was sent to the same place as John.

There was Parsa (representing http://www.paulmccartney.com/): he lived in Afghanistan during 2008. His brother was chosen to do a suicide bombing, and Parsa was sent away after trying to dissuade him from his assigned task. She quietly strummed her unnamed instrument after she was banished, and she found herself in the same room as the others.

And there was Ringa (representing Ringo Starr): she lived in a sweatshop in China under Chairman Mao’s rule. She was brutally beaten by her boss, and one day she ran away. She ran to the mountains and talked to a monk who gave her a gong. She banged the gong loudly, and she, too, was taken to the room with the other three.

The play was undeniably fun, and I will miss my days acting at the Topanga Community House with Topanga Youth Services. I still act at Ojai Valley School, but it is not the same as rehearsing a single dance until 12:30 at night, very tired but still smiling big. The friendships I made while acting at the TCH are forever with me, and I have not yet experienced anything quite like that.

(From left to right)
Parsa, Jyoti, Ringa, John