Chapter 18: An Unexpected Friend

Karen re-read her paper before submitting it at the morning class and was surprised at how well it read, considering the fact that she had rushed through it so quickly the night before. She remembered what Professor Highwater had said about knowing your subject thoroughly before beginning to write. Perhaps because she knew Ramini so well, her writing of the paper had come so easily, she thought.

After her morning classes, as Karen rushed off to meet Whitney; she wondered what was so important. Whitney was such a calm, matter-of-fact guy that it was unlikely he’d say something was “urgent” unless it truly was.

The day was darkening and another springtime rain was in the offing as Karen hurried to meet Whitney, realizing that she might be a few minutes late. As she scooted along the sidewalks heavily populated with students rushing to and from classes, she began wondering what was so important that Whitney felt they had to meet.

“Oh, I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Whit,” Karen said, breathing heavily.

“That’s OK, I just hoped you’d get here before the rain,” he said, after giving her a perfunctory hug and quick kiss on the cheek. It was the kind of a greeting a brother might give to a sister. Suddenly there was a burst of thunder, and Whitney escorted her into the Library’s lounge where a snack bar served coffee and light snacks.

“I thought we’d meet here since it’s less crowded and noisy than the Union,” he explained.

After they were seated, Whitney got a skinny vanilla latté for Karen and a large coffee for himself. He also ordered a small cheese pizza for the two to share for their lunch.

“Karen, first I want to congratulate you on getting the lead. How great!”

“Thanks, Whitney, but I’m scared I’ll not live up to the role,” she said. “It’s a difficult role.”

“You’ll do it, honey.”

“Now, what’s so important, Whitney? Not that you needed to say it’s ‘urgent’ just to get me to meet you. You know I’m happy to be with you anytime.”

“I know, Karen, but I know how busy you are, and I think this is urgent,” he said, his tone becoming somber.

“Well?”

“I have this guy who’s on my floor in my dorm, and he’s a religious nut, always talking about the word of God,” Whitney began. “When the student daily announced yesterday that you were going to take the lead, he went berserk. Somehow, he found out you were transgendered and he started ranting about this ‘heathen university.’”

“Well I guess he’s entitled to his opinion, but how would he know about me?” Karen asked. There was no indication in the news story of Karen’s gender, and few persons knew of Karen’s early years as a boy.

“I think there must be a spy somewhere, because I understand the student Christian Evangelistic group may be planning some sort of demonstration against it,” Whitney said.

“Oh my gosh.”

“I know, Karen, but I just thought I ought to warn you,” the boy said. “I’m so sorry, Karen.”

Karen eyed her skinny vanilla latte; she had been looking forward to the drink, but suddenly lost interest in it. She felt a sick knot forming in her stomach. She thanked Whitney for the information, leaned over to peck him on the cheek and got up to leave, her drink still untouched on the table.

“Wait, Karen, you’ll need to eat something,” he said, grabbing her by the wrist.

“I’d better contact Fenstrom on this, Whit,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t stay, Whit.”

Just then the pizza was brought to the table, and Whitney continued to hold Karen’s hand.

“Just relax a minute,” he said. “Fenstrom is probably out to lunch now anyway. You need to settle down.”

Realizing Whitney was probably right, Karen settled back into her chair.

“You’re a dear, Whit,” she said when she had finished one piece of pizza, leaving the other three to Whitney. Despite his urging, she couldn’t eat any more.

Whitney tried to change the topic, bringing up the fact that his mother (as the nurses’ union president) and her mother (as the hospital administrator) were locked in contentious negotiations and a nurses’ strike was imminent. They both lamented the situation, since Karen and Whitney worried that the close friendship between the two mothers might be damaged by the conflict.

“I think they’ll work it out, Karen,” Whitney said. “They’re both sensible.”

“But they might be forced into a strike, I’m afraid,” Karen said.

Karen realized that she was wasn’t the only one with problems in life. She knew from past labor negotiations that her mother became terribly tense and she imagined how difficult things must be back at home. She resolved to call her mother that night. Perhaps the two could cry together over the phone.

Soon the conversation moved back to Karen’s problems. “I really worried about your safety, Karen,” Whitney said. “You’ll never know what these nuts will do.”

“I’ve dealt with this before,” Karen said, trying to show a brave front.

“I know you have, but this could be worse. Look, what time do you go to rehearsal today? Let me escort you. I don’t want you walking in all by yourself, Karen.”

They agreed to meet outside the Humanities Building at 3:45 p.m., after Karen’s last class.

*****
“Maybe I ought to step down from the lead, professor,” Karen said, when she reached Fenstrom on her cell phone that afternoon.

“No, you don’t, Karen. Those nuts are not going to dictate who plays what part in my play,” he said.

“But, professor, if my playing the part will hurt the play, I don’t want to do it,” Karen said. “You and the others have worked so hard that I don’t want to be the cause of it falling apart.”

“Listen to me, Karen,” he said, adopting his usual dictatorial tone. “You will not step down. You will play the part, and you’ll play it with the same depth of feeling that you have already shown us. The only way you can hurt the play is if you don’t do your best. Got that?”

“Yes, sir,” she stammered, still not convinced that she shouldn’t resign from the part.

“See you at four, Karen,” he said.

“But, sir, I’ll be the source of all sorts of distractions, and . . .”

She heard the phone click. He had hung up on her.

*****
The crowd outside of the theater building was larger and more chaotic than she had imagined it would be. A ring of several score neatly dressed young people, along with older persons, including two of them prominently wearing clerical collars, picketed the sidewalk around the building. Along the street were several hundred other students, all who seemed to be heckling the picketers.

“It looks like the whole LGBT community is out to support you, Karen,” Whitney said as they approached the crowd.

There were signs being carried both by the pickets and the counter-pickets. “An abomination!” “Put God back into University,” and “Boycott Picnic” read the signs of the pickets, countered by “Let Freedom Ring,” “We Shall Overcome,” and “Rah, Rah, Rah, Karen” signs. Both sides were separated by a phalanx of police, who thus far seemed to have the situation under control. Several television trucks were on the scene, cameramen perched atop their vans recording the scene for the evening news, while others roamed the crowd seeking one-on-one interviews.

Whitney led Karen to a police officer, whose trooper hat being covered with gold braid indicated he must be in charge. To avoid drawing attention, Karen had put on a hoodie that, she hoped, would hide her from identification. She saw that several cast and crew members had been led by police escort through the crowd, accompanied by both jeers and cheers.

“She’s in the cast, sir,” Whitney told the officer, who name tag identified him as Capt. Will Hart.

The officer looked at Karen, his gaze unfriendly and critical.

“Oh, you must be the cause of all this,” he said, his voice showing disgust.

“No, sir, she’s just acting a part, that’s all,” Whitney said.

“And she or he or whatever shouldn’t try to change nature,” the officer said.

Whitney shouted back at the officer: “Do your job. Escort her through, officer.”

“Oh, a wise guy, eh?” he said. “Shut up or I’ll place you in the van over there.”

Karen saw Whitney carefully look at the officer’s badge, a tactic that the officer noticed. It quieted the officer’s objections, since he obviously realized that his role was not to judge the situation, but to keep the peace and to escort Karen into the rehearsal. He ordered several officers to lead Karen through the crowd.

“Here comes another one,” she heard someone yell.

“This one’s covering her head,” yelled another.

“That must be her! Or him!” The voice was loud, nasty and sarcastic.

“Karen! Karen! Karen! I love you,” another voice said.

“Stone her,” an angry voice shouted.

Karen ducked her head, the officers pushed her roughly through the crowd and soon she was inside the theater, scared and exhausted from the ordeal, and hardly ready for rehearsal.

*****
“My God,” Morton, a scruffy, bearded stage manager, said as Karen entered the backstage. “You’re a guy? Really?”

Karen, still flustered from the ordeal of rushing through the crowd, didn’t answer, although she nodded a clear “yes” to the unbelieving stagehand.

“And with that body? A guy?” Morton shook his head as he asked.

Karen ran smack dab into the midst of the rest of the cast, which had been huddled around Professor Fenstrom; it was apparent they were talking about the fuss outside the theater’s doors over Karen’s gender.

“Oh Karen, I’m so sorry this has happened,” Heather said, guiding her into the group.

“Yes, Karen,” agreed another girl, a senior who played one of the school teachers in the play.

“Come here, Karen,” commanded Professor Fenstrom, beckoning her to his side. He put his left arm around her narrow shoulders, drawing her close to him, almost as a father might do with his daughter.

“I want to say something to both the cast and the crew,” Karen said firmly to the professor.

“Karen, you don’t have to say anything, dear,” he said. “We’re behind you all the way.”

“But, professor, I think they need both an apology and explanation from me,” she persisted.

The professor hesitated. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Please, professor, I must,” she said.

It took less than a minute to bring together the 30 or so young people in the cast and crew; Karen felt that most, if not all, of the cast knew her background since the actors had formed a tight bond. She doubted the stage crew knew, since there was an unfortunate gap between those that get on the stage and those that work behind it. She knew the people backstage were as important to the success of the play as those in front.

Karen stood on a platform, with the others grouped around her.

“My dear colleagues,” she began, her voice almost squeaking in anxiety. “I must apologize for the situation that I’ve created and that you all had to encounter today when coming here. It’s my fault. I feel it is a distraction to the success of our play, and I have told Professor Fenstrom that I wish to resign the lead right now so that you can all continue to make ‘Picnic’ the best show in town.”

“No, no, no,” Heather shouted, and a chorus of “no’s” followed.

Professor Fenstrom hopped up on the stage and ordered the group to quiet down. He turned to Karen and repeated what he had earlier. “I will not accept your resignation from this part, Karen,” he said. “You have created a believable, warm-hearted and complex Madge and for the good of the play, you will stay.”

The assembled cast and crew cheered, but Karen noticed Janet Backus — the tall severe-looking senior girl who played Rosemary, the old-maid school teacher — scowling. She was shaking her head “no.” Just a few days earlier, Janet had supported Karen when Heather had at first complained about being replaced for the lead.

The crowd quieted down, and Janet yelled out, “This is obscene, an abomination. It offends God. It’s a grave sin and we’re wrong to support her, or him.”

Several boos and hisses greeted the girl’s comments, but Karen held up her hand. She knew Janet to be a serious-minded girl who was interested in doing Christian theater work.

“Janet’s got a right to her opinion,” Karen said. “And I think I owe all of you an explanation.”

Karen began slowly, tracing her story from her troubled years as a boy to the revelation that she gained when she assumed the part of Ophelia in the play at the summer camp.

“I found that in living as a girl I had finally found the true me,” she said. “It’s nothing I desired to start with. As a girl I felt natural, real, if you know what I mean. Now, I am a patient at the gender clinic, where I am on a track to become a woman in virtually every sense of the word. To answer my friend Janet, let me simply say that being a girl, being female, is truly my natural self. The boy I was pretending to be was an imposter.

“But my dear colleagues, I in no way want to cause disruption in our play. Heather can handle the part just as well as I can. So it you prefer, let me resign . . .”

“No, no, no,” the group protested. As Karen looked around, she saw nearly everyone was shouting, except for Janet, who turned her back and walked off the stage.

Professor Fenstrom moved Karen aside. “OK cast, get your places for the beginning of Act Two,” he announced firmly. “Rehearsal starts in five minutes.”

“I think Janet’s leaving,” someone yelled.

“What? Who’ll play Rosemary?” Heather said.

Karen knew no one had been assigned to understudy the part, and she bounded off the stage, running into the wings, catching Janet just as she was about to reach the exit.

“You can’t let the others down, Janet,” Karen pleaded.

“Oh Karen,” the other girl said. She was crying profusely. “I don’t want to let them down Karen, but this seems to wrong to me. Really, it does and it goes against everything I’ve been taught. How can I pray to God knowing what I know about you?”

Karen looked at the girl, wondering what to say. Finally she said, “Do I look like a devil to you?”

“No,” Janet said, fighting back tears. “And you’ve always been sweet and generous and I love acting with you. This is such a shock. I can’t believe you’re a boy.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say, dear, I’m not a boy. I never have been. Maybe I’m not a one hundred percent girl, either, so why would it matter about what clothes I wear?”

The other girl suddenly took Karen into her arms; she was a strong girl and easily embraced the more fragile Karen.

“I’m so confused, Karen,” she said finally.

The rehearsal was a few minutes late in getting started, since Karen had to lead Rosemary into the dressing room to dry the girl’s tears and help her compose herself for her role in Act Two. The rehearsal for the act ended with Fenstrom announcing: “OK cast, you’ve done well on this act.”

As they walked back to the dressing room after the rehearsal, Janet whispered to Karen: “I still can’t believe you were once a boy.”

“I thought I told you I never really was,” Karen said.

“That’s right,” Janet said, beginning to laugh. Soon they both were giggling uncontrollably.

*****
The fuss wasn’t over, however. The Christian Students’ Organization continued its daily picketing outside the theater, but it was clearly noticeable that the individuals marching around the theater appeared to include a majority of non-students. The publicity hit the local newspapers, and soon became national news after the Republican-controlled Legislature announced it would hold an investigation into the University for what some lawmakers said amounted to an encouragement of non-Christian practices. Editorials appeared, both pro and con, in newspapers throughout the state, with most of them supporting the use of a transgendered woman in a University play.

Karen, in the meantime, was besieged by emails and phone calls, from both supporters and others, some expletive-laced calls threatening potential violence against her; a day later, pickets showed up in front of the home where she and Ramini and the other girls lived, accompanied by police and an equal or larger group of counter-pickets. The scene there became so disruptive that Angela snuck Karen out of the house and drove her to stay with Jenny during the demonstrations.

When Karen had called Jenny wondering if she had room for her, the girl had responded: “Sure, Karen, come on over. One of the girls has dropped out, and there’s an extra room here right now.”

Her mother and Patti Hamilton called several times, both expressing concern for Karen’s safety. “Maybe you ought to quit the play, darling,” her mother said. It was apparent that would not be possible, as the opening night was fast approaching.

“Mark has seen the reports on the TV news here,” Patti told her. “He’s mad as hell and frankly I’ve never seen him so upset.”

“Mrs. Hamilton, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt his recovery,” Karen said.

“Oh dear, you aren’t,” Patti was quick to reassure her. “He’s finally become interested in something. It’s been good for him, and he’s so sorry to see what you’re going through. He has always cared for you, Karen. You must know that.”

“I do, Patti.”

Karen finished the call with a smile on her face.

*****
The story about a transgendered girl taking the lead role in the University-sponsored theater performance continued to dominate the news. With conservatives in control of State government, key political leaders of the ruling party had been empowered to continually raise issues they said were unpatriotic, irreligious or immoral. That Karen Hansson, born a boy, would play a role as a girl, one state senator contended, was “un-American, anti-Christian and a blot on the morals of the state and its citizens.” He called upon the State Arts Council to withdraw its funding from the play and threatened to seriously cut its budget in the future.

“We’re sticking with Karen Hansson for the part of Madge,” Professor Fenstrom declared in a press conference. “She is clearly the best girl for the part and she has the support of the cast to continue in the role. Miss Hansson is a dedicated and hard-working actor who will help make this play most successful on the stage. I invite all of you to join us at the performances. I think you’ll be glad you did.”

Dr. Larissa Thatcher, the University chancellor, sent out a press release supporting Fenstrom’s decision to cast Karen on the grounds of protecting “academic freedom,” as well as the University’s commitment to non-discrimination. She noted, too, that she was employing a transgendered girl on the work-study program for her administrative staff, an obvious reference to Ramini Verma, though she didn’t use the name. “This University is committed in its employment policies to hire the best person for the job regardless of that person’s race, gender, sexual orientation or other such factors.”

Rather than stifling the criticism aimed at Karen’s role, the strong support by Thatcher and other University leaders seemed to stoke the fire of the most fervent and extreme nature; soon demands were raised to fire Thatcher, dismiss Fenstrom and purge the University of its “immoral and non-Christian leaders.” The demonstrations outside the theater building grew even more noisy and raucous, so much so that the University’s own chief of police intervened, suggesting the cancellation of the play on the grounds of preserving the peace.

“The play will go on with Miss Karen Hansson in the role of Madge,” Fenstrom announced simply when interviewed on a local television news show on the second morning of the uproar.

Thus far, Karen Hansson had been successfully avoiding the news media. The local newspaper and the campus daily, along with their online entities, displayed a picture of “Kenneth Hansson” taken from her senior picture as published in the high school yearbook, alongside a publicity shot of Karen dressed for the part of Madge.

“You really could see the girl in you in the yearbook, Karen,” Ramini said, as the two examined the online views.

“I was called pretty then, but usually to harass me for being so . . . oh, I don’t know how to say it . . . for being such a sissy, I guess,” Karen remembered. The memories were not happy ones.

The other photo showed a soft, lovely girl with flowing brown hair in a light blue summer dress, her slender pretty arms and thin neck giving her a fragile appearance. The face that looked out from both photos displayed the same, high cheekbones, blue sparkling eyes and full sensuous lips.

“It’ll only be a matter of time before the media tracks you down,” Fenstrom warned Karen on a call to her cell phone. “You should be prepared to respond properly, Karen.”

“I will tell them ‘no comment,’ but that I’ll be happy to meet with them after the last performance of the play. I’ll ask them to respect my privacy and that of all of my friends, particularly those on the cast and crew of ‘Picnic.’”

Professor Fenstrom agreed that would be a good way to handle the situation and after a few encouraging words said he was arranging for police to be present to guide the actors safely into rehearsal the next day.

*****
Karen’s cell phone buzzed about 10 p.m., just as she was about to get ready for bed. The phone number was not one she recognized and she hesitated about answering it. Finally, realizing that few people knew her cell phone number, she touched the button that activated it.

“Hello,” she said cautiously.

“Is this Karen Hansson?” the voice asked. It was obviously that of a young man, an African-American.

“Who is this?” she replied.

“I’m sorry,” the caller began. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Merritt King.”

He said the name as if Karen should recognize the name immediately.

“Merritt King?” she answered aloud, still not recognizing the name.

Ramini who had been sitting nearby heard Karen sound out the name.

“That’s the football player, Karen,” she said quietly.

It dawned on Karen finally: Merritt King was the star running back on the football team; though only a freshman, he was already being touted as a potential Heisman Trophy candidate.

“I play football,” the voice said, becoming more questioning. It was a modest, seemingly shy voice.

“Of course,” Karen said, quickly recovering her senses. “My brother thinks you’re the hottest player around.”

“Thank him for me, but we still didn’t win the Rose Bowl this year, so I don’t think I’m as good as all that,” the voice replied.

“My brother’s pretty up on this stuff, but I’m afraid I don’t follow football too much,” she said, realizing that was only partly true since her eyes had been glued on the fortunes of the Iowa State football team and its star quarterback, Mark Hamilton.

Karen grew wary about the caller.

“How do I know you are really Merritt King? You could be a hoax. I have to be careful.”

“How do you think I got your phone number?” he asked.

“You figured out a way to find it out on the internet, probably.”

“No, I’m not that clever,” the boy laughed. “I got it from Mrs. Hamilton.”

“From Patti?”

“Yes, I visited Mark in Milwaukee yesterday, and he told me all about you and how upset he was that you were in the middle of all this attention.”

“You saw Mark?”

“He and I were roommates at a football camp two summers ago, and we became really good friends. I was devastated when he got hurt. I didn’t know about it until after our bowl game was ended, but I admit I think I cried.”

“How was he when you saw him, Merritt?”

“Energized, Karen, and it was all about you and what you’re going through. He knows how all actors have butterflies before going on stage and then to have to face all this fuss. It’s just not fair.”

“But how was he?” she persisted.

“Despite how difficult this is for him, Karen, his spirits were up, since he feels so bad for you. He really loves you, he told me, and he even cried talking about you and what a marvelous summer the two of you had in the theater camp.”

Karen felt like crying and laughing, almost at the same time. She recalled the wonderful six weeks the two had shared and the short Christmas visit, placing it in the context of her current tense situation and Mark’s unfortunate injury.

“Karen, I think all this stuff you’re facing now is so unfair,” Merritt said. “I know something about discrimination, and it’s so wrong. We’re going to come out and support you.”

“We?”

“Yes, I have talked to the entire starting backfield on the football team, as well as our all-America center and we’ve decided to escort you through the pickets tomorrow, in full view of the press and everyone.”

“You are? For me? Oh Merritt, that’s wonderful. How can I ever thank you and the others on the team?

“You can thank us by putting on an ‘all-America’ performance in the play,” he said. “We’ll be there to cheer you on.”

Karen hung up, stunned. Ramini hugged her after Karen related the contents of the call.

“How great to have such support, Karen! With the football guys on your side, wow!”

“Yes, that’s marvelous, but Rami, just think, Mark must still love me.”

Ramini hugged her friend tightly, letting her cry onto her shoulder. What is more marvelous than a prolonged crying session when the tears are tears of joy?

*****
Merritt King proved to be as good as his word the next afternoon when Karen arrived at the University Library, the spot chosen for her rendezvous with King and his teammates since it was near to the Theater, but hidden from view by a group of trees. Her friend Whitney Roberts volunteered to accompany Karen to the appointed spot.

“Karen, it looks like the whole team is here,” Whitney said as they rounded a corner to see a large group of husky young men, along with a sprinkling of girls, all wearing the red and white colors of the University.

Karen was speechless by the sight before her and walked toward the group when a handsome African-American young man, obviously the leader, walked forward to greet her.

“Miss Hansson, I presume. I’m Merritt,” he said, extending his hand. He wore a broad, warm smile.

“Yes, I’m Karen, and who are all these people? I can’t believe this.”

“Well this is most of the football team, plus some of the cheerleaders,” he said. “I couldn’t round them all up, since some were busy or I couldn’t find them, but most of us are on your side. We wouldn’t stand for discrimination on the team and the theater group shouldn’t either.”

“This is incredible. I don’t know how I can thank you enough,” Karen said, so taken by the generosity of King and his friends that she felt she’d begin crying again.

“Let’s get going. You don’t want to be late for rehearsal. I understand your director is as tough on you folks as our coach is on us.”

With that, King took Karen’s hand and led her toward the group. He yelled out: “OK, hit it team!”

Suddenly she heard the horns and drums of a brass band burst out with the team’s fight song; hidden among the mass of red and white was a small group of band players — apparently the brass and percussions — who led the way, followed by the cheerleaders. Merritt King, still holding Karen’s hand, moved to the front, just behind the cheerleaders, and the entire entourage moved through the small wooded area toward the theater, singing the fight song, doing a few cheers and then returning to other songs familiar to the students. It was a festive sight and belied the potential altercation that might develop.

The effect was electrifying; the pickets who had gathered to either jeer or cheer Karen quickly moved aside to open a lane for the marchers. Television cameramen focused on the marching group, their camera lens spending lots of time focusing on Karen and the handsome, muscular young man holding her hand.

As they reached the steps of the Theater Building’s entrance, King raised his hand to bring the group to a stop. He mounted on a stone pedestal at the foot of the stairs, and was handed a bullhorn from one of his teammates.

He signaled for quiet, and eventually the crowd became largely silent — except for a few hisses and boos from the protesting Christian group — so that the main sound breaking the warm spring afternoon was the whir of television cameras:

“I have a statement to read,” he began, his voice strong and eloquent, even for a still growing young man 19 years of age. There was a buzz in the crowd, and King paused briefly before continuing.

“All of what I have written and will say here are my words; no one else is responsible for what I say. However, I believe it represents the general feelings of all of the students you see here, and that includes players of the football team, a few members of the basketball team and the track team, plus many cheerleaders and band members.

“We football players and others here are very much like Karen and her friends who are acting at the Theater. We’re all students and we all represent our University in a very public way. Karen tells me that she gets an anxious stomach before going on stage each time, and I know all of the players here get those same feelings as we enter the field before each game as we run out of the locker room in the stadium.

“Likewise, we feel that a student wanting to act in a play should have the same right as all other students do. We know Professor Fenstrom and his staff wish to stage the best play possible and therefore want to put the best performers on the stage, just as our coach wants the best and most dedicated players on the field. And from what I’ve been told, Karen does one heck of a job in portraying her character on stage.

“No one, regardless of race, ethnic origin, gender, age or sexual orientation should be denied the right of access to any activity on this campus, and that includes such transgendered persons as Karen Hansson. Please let Karen do her performing on stage, and I think you’ll see that she’ll give an All-American performance and make our University proud.”

Cheers followed, and the band struck up the fight song again. Karen waved to the crowd, gave Merritt King a quick kiss on his cheek, having to stand up on her toes to reach his face.

“Give ‘em hell, Karen,” the boy responded.

Karen bounded up the stairs and into the building for rehearsal, fighting back tears and fearing that she’d begin bawling profusely at the gratification of the support she received.

She realized she was five minutes late, and Professor Fenstrom who was standing in the midst of the cast and crew for the Act One rehearsal to start, met her with a scowl. “You’re five minutes late, Miss Hansson,” he said sternly. “One minute later and Heather would have been assigned to the part.”

“But, I was . . .”

Fenstrom ignored her, and ordered the cast to assemble for the start of Act One rehearsal. “Last time through on this act, you folks played it like you were dead,” he said, his voice still reflecting anger. “If you don’t put some life into your parts, you’ll have half the audience walk out when the act ends. Now get to work and forget all these other distractions.”

The rehearsal that day seemed to go well, Karen thought, although Fenstrom continued to break in with criticisms and sarcastic remarks; nearly every actor, plus some of the backstage crews’ actions, were subject to nitpicky comments (at least Karen felt they were minor and unnecessary but definitely reflecting Fenstrom’s characteristic direction).

At the end of the day, Karen bumped into Deborah, Fenstrom’s administrative assistant with whom Karen had worked when in his office. “What’s bugging him today, Deborah?” she asked the older woman.

“I don’t know Karen, but he’s been this way all day. It may just be the pressure of opening night coming up and he’s usually a bit ornery at such times. This time, however, he’s worse than ever.”

Karen shook her head in puzzlement.

“Does he want to get rid of me?” she asked. “Is he regretting his decision for me to play Madge? I volunteered to quit the part, you know.”

“I doubt that,” Deborah said. “I’ve heard him on the phone and he’s been arguing with someone about you though and every time he’s said that you’re best suited for the part and that he won’t replace you. I know he’s under tremendous pressure from some higher-ups in the administration to dump you, as well as some wealthy donors, but you should know Fenstrom by now. Once he gets his mind set, you’ll not change it.”

Karen nodded, realizing that Fenstrom could be terribly stubborn. Yet the feeling that she was causing such trouble bothered her. She said. “I am a distraction. I should have quit.”

“No dear, you shouldn’t have,” Deborah said, placing her hand on Karen’s shoulder. “Just do the best job you can, and you’ll easily prove him right. I’ve seen your rehearsals and you’re an excellent Madge, dear. I’m not sure either Janice Rule or Kim Novak did it better.” Ms. Rule performed the part in the original Broadway production and Ms. Novak starred in the movie.

Fenstrom said nothing to Karen before she left the theater to return to her room. Only four days to opening night, and already Karen felt a growing anxiety. She knew she had to be perfect; she had to justify Professor Fenstrom’s risk in naming her to the part. She mulled that expectation over in her mind that night, and it gnawed at her deeply, making it impossible to sleep. Her mind only began to calm when she began thinking of Mark and how he urged Merritt King to support Karen, along with the stirring display of solidarity from his teammates, the cheerleaders and the others. She realized she was not alone in her quest for womanhood, and she soon fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.