After that, they couldn’t even look at me. Their pride for me disappeared. They made me go to church more often. I had a weekly session with Pastor Tim, who thought there was a painful event in my past that made me confused about my gender. He asked me awful questions. I felt so alone. And ashamed.

My head went to bad places. I couldn’t get out of my house, couldn’t get out of my body, and couldn’t escape my family’s disgust for me. I don’t know what came over me, but I wrote to Aunt Lil and told her everything. I asked if I could come live with her. It felt like a big ask, but I was desperate. She called me and said she would start looking for a school. That was the light I needed to keep going.

While waiting at a red light on Thirty-Fourth Street, I watch the city move—people walking, biking, laughing; a dog poops while the owner scrolls through his phone. I love this city. I never want to leave. The ending not throwing away my shot rings out. I see the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror, daring me to play it again.

So—I do.

He looks back at me. “What’s your deal with this song, man?”

“I’m having a moment,” I say to him.

One of the first songs in most musicals is the “I Want” number. This is the moment when the main character sings about their dreams and sets the entire plot in motion. I want to be August. I want to be on a Broadway stage. I want it more than anything in the world. This is my chance at living my dream. I’m not throwing away my shot.

6:35 P.M.

The car pulls up to my aunt’s block. Her town house is hard to miss—bright yellow, green shutters, with golden pineapple statues littering the staircase. Aunt Lil is obsessed with pineapples. Seriously, her place is pineapple everything. Pineapple cookie jars, coasters, paintings, pineapple-shaped foods.

I head up the walkway and see lights on inside. That means she’s home. I can’t wait to tell her about my day. I unlock the entryway and front doors. Take off my shoes. I’m doing my best to follow the few rules she laid out when I arrived from the bus yesterday. Music fills the house. Well, music is a strong word for what’s happening. It’s more of an aggressive bongo with a woman making noises.

I start talking before I get to the kitchen. “Auntie, you will never guess—” I stop because someone is here.

“Don’t just stand there with your mouth open,” Aunt Lil says. “Say hello to our guest, Davina.”