be your Round One Long Form groups. Then we’ll take a break and come back for Short Form structures. Finally, we’ll close with some One-Liners.”
The coach to Ben’s right was a tall, goofy-looking white guy with a mop of light, curly hair. The previous night, he’d played this really funny post office worker who could only give directions using zip codes. He waved good-naturedly. “Uh, in case you forgot from last night, I’m Roger, by the way.”
The crowd chuckled. Roger smiled crookedly. “I’ve been doing a few shows here and there in Chicago. First summer here. Happy to see you all.”
“And I’m Dion,” the other coach waved. Even taller than Roger, Dion had dark brown skin and wore his hair in a fade. He’d been great at voices in the show—at one point he’d played Kermit the Frog, and I’d nearly fallen off my chair. “Also here from Chicago,” he continued, “also my first summer. Careful for Roger,” he nodded in his direction. “He’s terrible at Frisbee.”
In a faux-hurt voice, Roger said, “Hey, now.”
Dion grinned. “Rest assured—Frisbee in his hand, you will get hit.” The crowd laughed. “Super excited to get started.”
Roger and Dion looked like string beans standing next to each other. Their easy smiles made me feel excited to get started.
“Right. And most of you already know me. I’m Ben Porter,” Ben added. He paused like he was waiting for another cheer but there was only light applause and a delayed whoop. I tried to catch his eye, but if he saw me, he didn’t respond.
Ben called off six names, including mine and Hanna’s. As I climbed the stairs to the stage, my stomach flopped over. I grabbed Hanna’s hand and squeezed it, but none of the other guys would look at me. I frowned. Improv is all about trust. You’re getting on stage without a script or even characters. It’s all about eye contact and nonverbal communication. How was I going to be able to show the coaches the kind of performer I was when most of my scene partners wouldn’t even look at me?
“Whoa!” One of the people in our Montage pointed at something on the horizon and started pacing back and forth.
No one jumped to join him.
“What is that?”
Hanna leaned next to me and whispered, “There’s a winner of a start.”
Clearly, this guy had no idea what he was doing. Or, I considered, maybe he just clapped the last scene out on a high note and jumped in without an idea for the next one. Maybe he was sacrificing himself. I took a deep breath. Okay. What’s something he could be pointing at? . . .
I mimed holding onto a tray and put on my best popcorn vendor voice. “Eclipse glasses!” I called out, joining the guy on stage. “Get your solar eclipse glasses here!” A rumble of laughter rolled across the audience.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m—”
“What are you doing here?”
My scene partner had interrupted me, which happens sometimes, but the bigger problem was he had just asked three questions in a row. Questions can be the death of an improv scene because it makes the other person do all the heavy lifting. Luckily, I was up for the challenge. Make statements and assumptions.
I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Why, sonny, the solar eclipse is coming in less than three minutes.”
“Solar eclipse?”
“Yes! It’s a meteorological marvel! But if you stare into the sun, you’ll go blind—so get your eclipse glasses right here! Only twenty bucks!”
“Twenty bucks?”
This guy was either super nervous or a parrot. I raised my voice. “Perhaps you’re hard of hearing! The solar eclipse is coming! And I did say twenty dollars!”
The audience laughed.
“What do I need eclipse glasses for?”
Oh my god. So many questions. Okay. Time for my foolproof fallback: knowing the guy. “Wait a minute. Jerry?”
“Huh?”
“Jerry Feldemeier?” I mimed setting down my tray and turned to him so we were eye to eye. “Look at you, son! You’ve grown so much! I remember when you were knee-high to a grasshopper! Tell your mom Agnes Ruffles says hello!”
“Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I will.”
“And for old time’s sakes, kid, take a pair of eclipse glasses on me.”
In the end, our Montage went fairly well, but it wasn’t my best work. We did get a big laugh in the last scene when I called back Agnes Ruffles, though. The scene took place in a movie theater, and I came out as Agnes Ruffles selling 3-D glasses to the moviegoers. That’s one of my favorite