I stop and turn around. “Do you hate me? Or all trans people?” I ask, emboldened by the endorphins and edibles.

Her jaw drops. I’m on a roll tonight. So, I continue, “I bet you’re happy I’m finally staying in my lane. I bet you wish I were in conversion therapy.”

“August,” Tess says, but I’m already walking past her. I find my way out of the apartment, down the elevator, and call a car. Stars never stay until the end of events anyway.

Twenty-One

Twenty-One

Friday, October 25

3:30 P.M.

“This is my dressing room?” I ask.

“With all the amenities,” Brady says, presenting a folding table with a desk lamp and full-length mirror. The room is basically a walk-in closet with a shelf of cleaning supplies. This is not the men’s dressing room.

“Is this a joke?” I ask, hoping this is a prank.

Brady holds his hands up. “I’m just the stage manager. I don’t make the calls.”

There’s another folding table and mirror across from mine. Same plastic chair. Tons of makeup piled up. “Who’s there?”

“Betty Lauderdale.”

“Oh,” I say, putting the pieces together. “This is the transgender dressing room?”

“Gender-neutral dressing room,” Brady says, knowing that probably doesn’t make it better. I sit down on the chair and the back nearly breaks. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, checking his watch. “Onstage in ten.”

“Thanks, ten,” I say.

“Oh, August?” Brady says, making eye contact. “You’re doing great out there.”

The first half of rehearsal has been bumpy, and I can only imagine what will happen next. After this break, it’s time to rehearse the scene with my monologue. “Doesn’t feel like it,” I say.

“Hang in there,” he says, already on his way out the door. I turn toward the mirror with the horrible desk lamp lighting. Good thing I don’t wear makeup for this show. This room smells like bleach. This feels wrong. I should be in the men’s room and Betty should be in the women’s, and that should be the end of discussion. Is this even legal?

I rub my eyes, exhausted from last night’s Rocky Horror disaster. I avoided Elijah and Anna all morning, and skipped the cafeteria, opting for a nap in an empty classroom. I don’t have the energy to deal with it. All my brainpower goes to thinking about Joshua Downs. I feel obsessed. I want to impress him. I want him to see that I can be Ajax. I can’t fail at this role. This is my big chance.