“You don’t know shit about me, lady,” I yell, pointing at her. “My family didn’t put me in here to get better—they put me in here to die.”

“Your family loves you.”

“Loves me?” I spit, my face reeling from the offense. I spread out my arms, the script gripped tightly in my hand. “Is this what love looks like?”

“This is what real love looks like,” Rosalyn says. “We will help you find the right way to live as God intended.”

“You’re wrong, ma’am,” I say as a tear—just one tear—falls from my eye and runs down my cheek. I pause and let the theater get quiet. My eyes search the room. “I’m going to die in here.”

The silence lingers for what feels like forever. “Well done,” the man beside Joshua says.

Rosalyn smiles. “Yes, we do appreciate you coming in today, babe.”

“August,” Joshua says. We lock eyes and he smiles. “Why should we give this role to you?”

I straighten up. “Because I can do it,” I say.

He tilts his head. “How do you know that? How are you even qualified?”

Rosalyn cuts in, “August, you don’t need to answer. My apologies, but Joshua is still a little upset about having to replace Caesar.”

“A little?” he asks with a laugh.

“No, its fine,” I say. “I’m qualified because I’m attending the School of Performing Arts. And I’m qualified because I’m transgender. And that’s who should be playing the part.”

A woman says, “We agree with you.”

“And,” I say to Joshua directly, “I watched a bootleg of your production of Othello in Central Park two years ago. It was the best Shakespeare I’ve seen. It would be an honor to work with you.”

Joshua nods and grumbles, “That’s one of my favorite shows, too.”

“Have a good day, August,” Rosalyn says, meaning get out of here while I’m ahead.

Act Three: Conversion

Act Three: Conversion

Nineteen

Nineteen

Monday, October 21

11:45 A.M.

My friends look at me like I’m famous. Or an alien.

Other people in the lunchroom are looking, too. News travels fast.

“Then what did you say?” Anna asks, her complete focus on me. I love my lunch crew, and I really love being the center of attention.

“I told him I was qualified because I’m a student here, and transgender.” I take a bite of my sandwich. Really hold the suspense. “And that he would regret not hiring me for the part,” I say, embellishing the story for dramatics. They laugh. The table is eating up this story.

“What did you think of Joshua Downs?” Anna asks. “Total egomaniac?”