I cross my fingers in my sweatshirt pockets as I approach the theater. A couple of my classmates followed behind me, but they didn't matter to me at the moment. All that matters is getting to the theater on time. All that matters is finding out what part I got.

I enter the theater, a blast of hot air hitting me directly in the face. I sigh, and head straight to the double doors that lead to the house. As I enter, my eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness of the theater. Everything was eerily quiet; I didn't hear Mr. Richards fumbling around with his laptop like he usually was this time of day, emailing someone about some meeting or something.

But it is dark and that is odd. Usually at least the house lights were on, but not even a glow came from them. Odd. Out of place. You don't belong here. I hear someone shuffle in the double doors behind me. Thank goodness. I hate the dark. I turn around to check and see who it is. Before my face reaches the door, it slams shut. I jump back, startled by the sudden loud noise. It nearly knocks me off my feet, but I place my hand on the wall to stop myself. I take a deep breath, doing my best to calm my rushing heart. I hear another shuffle of feet from behind me. My breath catches, not wanting to reveal myself to my unknown captor. The footsteps reaches right behind me. I close my eyes. One, two, three, nothing is behind me. Four, five, six, seven, but if there is, I'll go to Heaven.

Cold. Unbearably cold. Hands.. No, claws, slide up my shoulders, reaching my neck, squeezing it lightly. Cold talons, warm breath. It leans closer to my ear, it's lips nearly touching my ear.

"Boo."

I scream, falling onto the ground. The lights flip on, and above me, stands Abigail Williams. Short blonde hair frames her pale face, which is freckled with both pimples and tiny sun-kisses. Her eyes nail mine dead on, a light gray. It suits her. She wears a matching gray sweater and some jeans and boots. She giggles at me, watching me from above. She reaches her hand down. "Need some help there?"

"Abby... you always do stuff like this!" I exclaim, taking her hand offer. I stand off, brushing off my coral colored sweatshirt.

"I know, and I thought you'd be used to stuff like this by now." She giggles again, and reaches over to pick off a piece of fuzz I had missed. "Besides, it's not even me that scares you for the most part. It's just that crazy imagination of yours."

Alice Parker comes around from the corner, near where the light switch is. "Your scream was my favorite part." Alice laughs.

"Alice, you were in on this too?" I ask, glancing over at her playfully.

Alice nods her head proudly. "Yep. We've been planning it for days now. Abby thought that you would be getting here super early to check the cast list, and she was right."

"Abby," I turn to face her. "How did you know I would rush to get here?"

"Lucky guess," Abigail smiles and winks at me. She reaches down and grabs her bag off of the floor, and starts making her way towards the row of seats that are lined in front of the stage. I follow her, as the bell rings, and behind me, the doors open to reveal John Bishop and Henry Perkins speaking about politics. I make my way down to the first row of seats, when Mr. Richards is coming out from backstage. "Ah, good morning, children."

I smile and take a seat next to Alice and Abigail, while John and Henry take a seat behind us.

"Good morning," Henry says softly.

"I'm assuming you all are anxious to find out who will be playing who, right? That's why you all are so silent?" Mr. Richards asks.

"Well, that, and Abby just scared the pee out of Bridget." Alice stifles a laugh, and I hear John chuckle from the seat behind me.

"Abigail and pranking. A perfect match." Mr. Richards smiles and takes a seat on the end of the stage, his notebook in hand. "Alright, back to the cast list."

"As long as I'm not that Hansel kid, I'm fine with whatever. Give me Tree Number Two if you want." John says, earning a laugh from the two girls.

Everyone already knew the parts they were going to get, so nerves weren't really a problem. In honor of the one-hundredth year of our school being open, we were doing the first play ever performed on this stage. Hansel and Gretel. Living in Salem, Massachusetts, it was ironic that the first play ever to take place at our school had heavily to do with a witch. Something I like to call, dramatic irony.

As for the cast list, everyone knew which part they wanted, or expected to get based on their performances. As for me, I know I'll get Gretel, since I am so used to playing leads in school plays. For Alice, she wants to get the stepmother of Hansel and Gretel. Abigail wants so desperately to be the witch, since she has played many evil characters in the past, before she moved to Salem. John wants to be the woodcutter because of how little he speaks. Henry is shooting for Hansel and, personally, I feel like that role suits him best.

Mr. Richards eyes John, and then smiles. "I wanted to test you all a little bit, and try to put you outside of your comfort zone. So, no, John, you will not be playing Tree Two. You'll be playing the Woodcutter." No surprise there.

"Yes!" I hear John hiss, as he stands up out of his seat to retrieve his script from Mr. Richards.

"As for you, Henry, I have cast you as the part of Hansel." Mr. Richards says.

"Alright, cool." Henry stands up to take his script. Henry seems all chill, but I know, on the inside, Henry is flipping out. I guess that's why he's such a good actor.

"Abigail Williams. Loved your monologue, by the way. Very original. You'll be playing the Stepmother, or the Woodcutter's new wife." The words roll out of Mr. Richards mouth, but they don't seem to process in my head. But Alice... Alice wanted that role.

Abigail plasters a smile and takes her script from Mr. Richards. She glances over at me, and shrugs, wondering what exactly is happening.

"Alice Parker, I want to see you grow in your acting capabilities. Therefore, you will be playing the role of Gretel." Mr. Richards gets up and hands her the script. The script that I wanted to be mine. Alice's already pale complexion turns even paler.

But, wait? Who's left? Who am I going to be casted as, if I'm not Gretel?

"And finally, Bridget Martin will be our witch." Mr. Richards hands me a script. It was old, and smelt of must.

The Witch? The Witch! I have to play evil? No, that's not right. The closest thing I've ever gotten to playing evil was Flotsam in a production of The Little Mermaid Jr.

"Also, guys. Please be very careful with your scripts. They are the old ones, like the ones they used for the original production at this school. They were printed on a typewriter! How cool is that!" Mr. Richards sighs when none of us reply. "Just be careful. I know you all are overloaded with work, so I'll let you guys have this time for a study hall. Just please start memorizing those lines!" He says, and walks back towards his desk on the far left corner of the stage.

I sigh, placing the script in my bag. Oh well. There's always next year.

—

Finishing up with seventh period, which is my photojournalism class, I walk all the way down to the bottom floor, where my locker is. 177. I get out my history textbook from my bag, and start opening the lock on my locker. After spinning the dial a few times, the lock pops open. As I pull the door open, I notice a piece of paper that has been taped to the inside of my locker door. I stare at it, searching for its meaning.

Watch your back.

I take a deep breath and start to recite the chant in my head to calm myself down.

One, two, three. Nothing is behind me. Four, five, six, seven. But if there is, I'll go to Heaven.

I feel a tap on my shoulder.