I left them in the hallway and headed outside. The sun was beginning to sink into late afternoon, turning the sky orange. The students I’d seen earlier were lying on their backs on the lawn as a bearded man wove through the maze of mats. Each had one hand on their stomach and the other on their chest.
“We’ll begin each session by consulting with our bodies,” he said. “Breathe from your diaphragm. Don’t know how? The hand on your stomach should rise higher than the one on your chest. Inhale. Keep your eyes closed.” He looked at me. “Now, exhale for eight counts and expel everything from your body that doesn’t belong in this class.” He looked around, nodding. “Just breathe. Your life depends on it. So does your grade.”
A few people laughed. I’d gotten closer than I’d meant, but they looked so at peace.
“Want to join?”
I blinked up at the man. “Sorry?”
“We have space.”
It didn’t look that way. They’d created two even rows. “There aren’t any mats left.”
“Do you need one?”
I hadn’t thought of that. I could just sit in the grass. “No, but I’m waiting for my . . .” I stopped myself from saying Dad. These were college students. They’d left home already. “My ride.”
“So lie down until then.” He gestured to the end of one row.
It was tempting. It seemed as though my mind had been going since I’d met Manning, wondering about him, or about little things like what books I really wanted to read or how I could get to Tower Records to buy a Pink Floyd CD. I, too, wanted to sink into the lawn and turn my brain off, send my problems into the air like balloons. With no sign of my dad, I lay down on the ground.
“We’ll stay in this position for sixty seconds. You have a lot of responsibilities as students, friends, children, siblings. Don’t be afraid to think about nothing for a change. Clear your mind.”
It was easier said than done. My mind wandered over to the business school, and then to how Manning had asked for a list of my interests. What were those, though? I did well in math, but did I want to do it for a living? I couldn’t imagine anyone did. Making people feel better appealed to me, but things like blood and surgery and medical charts didn’t. I liked reading and cooking for other people. I’d been a camp counselor last year and student council treasurer of my sophomore class. None of that really added up to a profession I could think of, though. Maybe Manning would know once he saw the list.
“You can sit up now,” the man said.
I opened my eyes as a breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees. Despite being on a busy college campus, our spot on the lawn was quiet. I got up slowly, blinking to adjust to the sun. I scratched my elbow, itchy from the grass. Everyone was smiling.
“Welcome to the summer session of Drama 101.” He looked at me. “I’m Professor Bronstein, but you can call me Sal.”
I checked over my shoulder. My dad was outside the building but still talking to the assistant professor.
“We’ll meet out here before class from now on. Once we enter the classroom, you have two jobs. To become the part you’re playing, and to support one another. At times, you’ll feel foolish—I guarantee it. You’ll also feel triumphant, and some other stuff in between. Trusting your classmates will go a long way when it comes to getting the most out of this experience.”
“But we just met, and summer session only lasts a few weeks,” someone pointed out.
“Precisely. We have a small amount of time to earn each other’s trust, so let’s begin with an exercise. Turn to face the person next to you.”
Still deep in conversation, my dad didn’t seem to notice I wasn’t there. Since I was at the end of the row, I could only go one way. I sat cross-legged facing a dark-haired girl. “Hi,” she said softly. “I’m Les.”
“I’m not actually in this—”
“Now,” Sal said, “close your eyes and touch your partner’s face.”
Les looked as surprised as I felt. I’d met her two seconds ago, and now I had to put my hands on her? It felt like an intrusion. Neither of us moved. She stifled a laugh.
“Where?” someone asked. “How?”
“You already have all the instructions I intend to give,” the professor answered.
Les and I exchanged a sheepish look before I closed my eyes.
A cold finger landed on my cheek. Les giggled. “Sorry.”
“Don’t speak,” Sal said.
It was even more uncomfortable not being able to laugh about it. I placed my palm on Les’s face, and it warmed to her cheek. I had to stop myself from also apologizing.
“Good,” the professor said. “Try to read your partner this way. Tune into their emotions.”
“Lake?” I heard from somewhere behind me.
“You’re nervous,” Les said.
“What?”
“You just jumped.”
“I-I have to go.” We both opened our eyes. I stood, brushing grass off my legs, and announced, “My ride is here.”
Sal nodded. “See you around, then.”