— Very, — she answered honestly.
— That’s normal. Nerves help you mobilize. The main thing is to remember everything we learned and be yourself.
The Institute of Culture greeted them with a solemn atmosphere. In the institute’s lobby, applicants from all over the country were crowded together, conversations in different languages could be heard, and a sense of tension and anticipation filled the air.
— I won’t go any further, — Roman said at the entrance. — You have to walk this path alone. I’ll be waiting for you here.
The exams took place in several stages. First was the audition, where she had to recite a passage from a classic play. Anna chose Nina’s monologue from “The Seagull.” It was a piece she and her father had rehearsed for a long time.
— An excellent choice, — said one of the committee members. — A very difficult role for a novice actress.
Anna began to read, and gradually everything else faded away: the committee, her nervousness, her fears. She became Nina—a young girl dreaming of fame and love. Her voice sounded confident, her emotions were sincere.
— Thank you, — said the chairman of the committee when she finished. — Very good. You have natural talent.
The second stage was improvisation. She had to perform a skit on a given theme. She received the task: “waiting for important news.” She remembered how she herself had waited for exam results in school, how nervous she was before her father’s call, and she embodied these emotions in a small scene.
— An interesting interpretation, — one of the professors noted. — It’s clear the girl knows how to observe life and transfer her observations to the stage.
The third stage was an interview. The committee members asked about her motivation, her understanding of the acting profession, and her plans for the future.
— Why the theater, specifically? — the dean asked.
— Because the theater allows you to understand people, — Anna replied. — Every role is an opportunity to live another life, to understand another person. And to convey that understanding to the audience.
— Are you prepared for the difficulties? The acting profession is very tough: lots of rejections, disappointments, uncertainty.
— I am prepared, — Anna said firmly. — I understand it won’t be easy. But I am ready to work and learn.
The final test was a check of her musical abilities. She had to sing a song accompanied by a piano. Anna chose the romance “A Lonely Sail Looms White.” It was a song her mother loved and often hummed at home.
When all the exams were over, Anna went out to her father—tired, but pleased with herself.
— How did it go? — he asked with concern.
— Well, I think, — she replied. — I did everything I could.
— The results will be announced in three days, — Roman said. — In the meantime, let’s celebrate, you did great.
They went to a restaurant where Roman ordered a celebratory dinner. At the table, he told his daughter about his own exams for theater school many years ago.
— I was very nervous too, — he recalled. — But the main thing was to show the committee that I had a passion for the theater, a desire to grow. And you have that, I saw it in your eyes today.
The three days of waiting dragged on torturously. Anna couldn’t find a moment’s peace, constantly thinking about the exams, analyzing every word from the committee.
— Don’t overthink it, — Roman said. — What will be, will be. The important thing is that you tried.
On August 18, the results were announced. Anna was accepted. Her name was on the list of enrolled students for the first year of the acting faculty.
— I don’t believe it, — she whispered, looking at the list. — Is this real?
— It’s real, daughter, — Roman hugged her, and they both cried with joy. — You’ve been accepted into one of the best theater institutes in the country.
In the evening, they had a real celebration. Roman invited his actor and director friends, who congratulated Anna on her admission.
— To our future star! — Mikhail Zemlyakov raised a toast. — To talent, hard work, and good fortune.
— To family, — Roman added. — To the fact that we finally found each other.
Anna called her uncle Andrei to share the joyful news.
— Uncle, I got in! To the Institute of Culture! Can you believe it?
