Lucille arrived at the Lakewater Theater just as the stapler bit the corkboard.

The first set of double doors were no match for her, blowing wide open as she and the chilly autumn air stormed inside. But the second doors let her know, with a clamour, that they were locked.

She glared at the fat, bearded man through the wired glass. Her scarf was a scorpion's tail, rising behind her in the wind.

Fred sighed. He finished stapling the casting sheet to the board, and let the woman in.

"This theatre is a shambles," she pronounced, projecting her voice against every wall.

"Good morning, Mrs. Williams," he replied, pausing to sip his coffee. "I take it you've seen the results online already."

"Oh, I have!"

Lucille pulled her gloves off with her teeth, and prepared to count everything she had done that morning on her fingers. 

"I've read them, re-read them, went over them a [i]third[/i] time, and I even used that [i]control-f[/i] function my neighbour's son taught me. And yet my daughter isn't there. She's not Alice, the Queen of Hearts, not even the Cheshire sodding Cat!"

Lucille brushed past the man before he could respond, standing strategically between him and the rest of the building. 

"You look me in the eyes and tell me that Mary Williams didn't set that stage on [i]fire[/i] during her audition," she said.

Fred responded in mid-eyeroll, looking elsewhere. "I can't do that. Your daughter was pretty incredible, all things considered. But we can't cast her."

Lucille crossed her arms. "So it's discrimination, then."

He raised his hands in defense. "Whoa, hey! Let's be clear, this isn't because she's African-American."

"We're [i]British[/i]."

Fred contorted his mouth. "I realize. But it isn't that either."

"Well, it's something! Out with it!"

Fred switched his coffee cup between hands and placed the empty hand on her shoulder.

"It's because she's [i]nine[/i], Mrs. Williams."

Lucille scoffed. "I realise that. But so what? [i]Alice[/i] is seven!"

"We have a 14-and-up policy here. It's on the casting call."

"Then why let her audition?"

"For the experience! We thought it would be [i]nice[/i]."

Lucille continued the offence. "Rigging a game against a child? That's [i]nice[/i], is it?"

Fred bit his lip. He took his hand off her shoulder so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. 

Lucille took a breath. "Can I ask you something, Frederick?" she said in a more even tone.

"It's Fred, but go ahead."

"Do you know who you're speaking to?"

Fred gave her an odd look. "That crazy British lady who moved into town a few months ago?"

"Correct. But did you [i]also[/i] know that you're speaking to the mother of a child who is starting to hide her accent?"

"I—"

"Did you know, every time she opens her mouth at school, that all the other students gawk, and laugh, and hold out their little pinkies like they're carrying teacups?"

Fred shook his head.

"Do you understand what playing an [i]English[/i] role in an [i]English[/i] story written by an [i]English[/i] author might mean to that little girl?"

Fred threw up his hands "Alright, alright! Look… I tell you what. If I give her a part, will you leave me alone?"

Lucille braced herself. 

"Which part?"

[hr]

Lucille walked briskly back to her apartment, manoeuvring around the morning shoppers, and dragging her heart along the sidewalk.

She glanced down at her phone again, where the updated casting list had already been posted. The last role on the list stuck out like it was somebody's tongue.

[quote][center][i]Mary Williams..........................................................Tree[/i][/center][/quote]

So now it was a race—to see who would let poor Mary down first, her mother or the casting sheet. 

There were people blocking the entrance to her building. The elevator didn't move fast enough. The corridor was too long. As she turned the key in her door, she realized she didn't know what to say yet.

"Mary?" she sang, creeping in the front door, the warmth of the corridor filtering in behind her. "Are you awake, Mary-pea?"

From the kitchen, she heard movement. A cellphone landing on a table. Pyjamas on a wooden chair. And then an answer.

"Mummy, look!"

Lucille sprinted around the corner, and she looked.

Mary stood with her feet rooted to the seat of her chair, her chest puffed out in front of her, and her smile glowing like autumn fire. Her arms branched up high above her head, as far as she could reach.

"Mummy. I'm going to be in the [i]theatre[/i]."