Aunt Lil grunts. “They disgust me.”

“They never want to see me again.”

“Good,” she says. “They don’t deserve to see you again.”

Then it hits me. As much as it hurts that they left, this is the best outcome. They aren’t going to take me back to West Grove. No more Mom using my deadname. No more Randy being Randy. I can stay here and go to school. I can play any role I want. “Actually, I’m glad they are gone. I’m free!”

“You’re not upset?” Aunt Lil asks, surprised.

Before I can answer, my phone vibrates. Is that Mom? I pull out the phone, nervous. “Unknown number,” I say, showing Aunt Lil.

“Could it be your mom?”

“Maybe I won’t answer.”

“Up to you.”

I accept the call—for better or worse. “Hello,” I say.

“August Greene?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Rosalyn. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday. Are you busy?”

“Who is it?” Aunt Lil whispers.

“I’m not busy,” I say into the phone.

“Wonderful. I’m the casting agent from Conversion, the show doing a workshop at your school,” she says. My heart beats so hard I feel it in my ears. “I’ll get right to the point; there’s a role that needs to be filled quickly. We heard about you and went to see Grease last night. And you, my friend, really stood out. Your Rizzo was fantastic.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Would you be available to audition for the role of Ajax? The director couldn’t attend last night, but we’ve told him about you. I know this is short notice, but we’re working on a tight timeline. Could you come to the school today for an audition?”

I look at my aunt, stunned. “I’m actually close. I could be there soon.”

“That’d be great. I guess this was meant to be. Thirty minutes?”

“Or less. Or thirty if that’s better for you.” Oh god, I need to get off this phone.

“Great. We’re in Theater Two. No monologue, we’ll have sides for you. See you soon. Thanks, babe,” she says, then hangs up.

“August,” Aunt Lil says. “Can you please explain what the hell is happening?”

“On the way there?” I ask, heading to the parking garage.

Twenty-five minutes later, I’m sitting outside Theater Two. Trying to get out of abandoned-by-parents mode and into audition mode. On the phone, Rosalyn said it was meant to be, and maybe she’s right. My parents wouldn’t have allowed me to be in this play, and now they’re gone. The door opens, and a lady comes out. She’s wearing black tights and an oversized sweater. “August?”

“That’s me,” I say, getting up from the bench.

“Hi, sweetie. I’m Rosalyn. Thanks for making it so quick. Do you live near here?”