Back Act Cool Save as PDF
Chapters (35)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Act One: New York
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Act Two: Grease
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Act Three: Conversion
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. Twenty-Five
  31. Acknowledgments
  32. About the Author
  33. Books by Tobly McSmith
  34. Back Ad
  35. About the Publisher

I want my parents in the audience. But they will not be there, and I need to accept that fact. Maybe even use it. I stop walking and take a deep breath. There’s nothing I can do to change my parents’ minds. It’s out of my control. But my life, and my performance, are in my control. I start walking again and hope the empty aloneness will get better over time. I occupy my mind by running scenes in my head and saying my lines out loud. It’s New York—no one looks twice if you’re talking to yourself.

When I get to the school, I walk past the front entry. We’ve been instructed to come in through the side entrance by the dumpsters. Guess that’s our stage door. I see a small group of people gathered by the doorway. Must be fans of the other actors? When I get closer, I realize I know all the people.

Aunt Lil and Davina are here with a bouquet of flowers. Mr. Daniels and Anna, too. Elijah, Meena, and Juliet wave at me and snap pictures. I walk toward the group with my mouth open, in total shock.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

They laugh and circle around me. “August,” Aunt Lil says, “we’re here to support you.”

“I just wanted to stand by the dumpsters,” Anna jokes.

“We are so proud of you,” Davina says.

“You’re all coming to the show?” I ask, stunned.

“I got a great group deal,” Aunt Lil says.

“Thank you, new favorite auntie,” Elijah jokes.

“August,” Mr. Daniels says. “Do you remember your super-objective paper?”

“Yes,” I say, shooting a look to Anna, who has also read it. “I said I wanted to play male or female parts and not transgender roles. Guess I didn’t achieve my super-objective. Did you come here to tell me you’re lowering my grade?” I kid.

“I would disagree.” He pulls a paper out of his pocket. “You did say those things, but you also said, and I quote, ‘I want to move the audience, make them feel things, think about things, and leave the theater changed. I want to be a star.’” He hands me the paper. “I imagine you’ll be doing those things tonight.”

“Hell yes, he’s a star,” Anna shouts.

“But why come before the show?” I ask.