Honestly, I want to be onstage always, but I’m relieved to sit here and get my bearings for the rehearsals. The difference between the productions of Grease and Conversion is undeniable. There’s so much talent at this school, but nothing on the level of this cast. I googled them all while sitting in my time-out chair. These actors have been on Broadway, the West End, toured the world, and one has been in a Judd Apatow movie. Their talent is real, raw, and intense—even in rehearsal. If my life were a video game, I’d have warped to a level I’m not ready to play. Compared to these actors, I feel small and inexperienced.

I can’t take my eyes off the two leads, Andy and Ben. During breaks and in between scenes, they are easygoing and funny. Always joking with the cast and crew. But once the scene begins, they turn it on like I’ve never seen. Another standout is Betty Lauderdale, a trans woman, whose character is trying to “do right by Jesus” by living as a man. She’s in the scene with Ajax before he dies by suicide, then finds him after.

There are eight cast members onstage with two understudies in the front row writing notes in their scripts, and me on the sidelines. It’s clear they’ve bonded from the way they talk and work together. Do they like Joshua? Are they mad about Caesar? Will they like me? Are they going to think I’m inexperienced? Instead of memorizing lines, I wrap myself in endless unanswerable questions.

Most of rehearsal is spent working second-act scenes. Joshua obsesses over every detail. He questions their choices. Pushes them emotionally. Tells them what to do. The process is slow. In five hours, they have only made it through three scenes. Joshua can be harsh and direct. It’s unsettling. An actress left the stage crying.

“Let’s wrap this up early tonight, gang,” Joshua yells from the back of the theater. Everyone starts clapping and circling up onstage. Even the crew joins. Joshua heads down the steps, clapping the loudest. This seems like a group activity that I should be participating in. But I don’t want to make assumptions. I don’t want to just insert myself into their things.

The clapping dies down. Everyone holds hands in a big circle onstage, with Joshua in the middle. He looks my way, for the first time today, and smiles. “Aren’t you going to join us?”

Not wanting to make anyone wait, I take the stairs as fast as Joshua did, hopping onstage as the circle opens and lets me in. I’m holding hands with Ben and someone from backstage. I look around—there must be thirty people—as most of them look at me. “I trust you have all met August,” Joshua says, “I don’t know your last name.”

“Greene,” I say, my voice cracking a little.