I check my phone. Twenty new followers since I walked offstage. I’m up to twelve hundred. I got a big bump when an article came out on Playbill.com about SPA’s diverse casting of an African American Danny Zuko and Kenickie, and a transgender Rizzo. I’d rather they write about my performance, but it was cool to see my headshot on the website. I’m worried about my parents seeing the article, but I don’t think they know how to google things.

I throw on my backpack and head toward the exit. When I open the door, I’m swallowed up by a crowd of people gathered around. I thought a couple of people would wait around, but it seems like the entire theater is still here. I’m sheepish, but not the Infamous AG—he acts like he does this all the time. I hear “good job” and “nicely done” and “you’re amazing.” A girl asks me for a picture—the modern-day autograph—and we pose as her mom takes the photo. An older man asks me to sign his Playbill. My head fills up like a balloon from the praise. Is this what it feels like to be famous?

Someone taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, star,” Maggie says, then hugs me.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I say. If I had time to have a crush, it would be on Maggie. I see her at school occasionally, but New Music and drama rarely cross paths. We could be the Romeo and Juliet of SPA, houses divided. Maggie’s music is amazing—I’ve found more online, and even some YouTube videos of her singing in her bedroom and coffee shops. Not stalking, just researching.

“What did you think of the show?” I ask. For the record, if any actor asks that question, it really means: What did you think of me?

“I think that Rizzo stole the show. August, you’re really . . .” She trails off, thinking of the word.

“Handsome?” I offer.

She smiles. “I was going to say exceptional.”

I let the word exceptional bounce around in my head. I’ll play it humble for Maggie. “I do my best,” I say humbly.

“I’m into it,” she says.

“Do you have other friends in the cast?”

She looks around. “I’m close with Justin, but I came to see you.”

My body warms up. That’s a good sign.

“The cast is going to Old John’s. Want to come?” I ask Maggie.

“I should probably get home.” She pushes her hair behind her ear. “Are you going to the closing party on Friday night?”