I head back to the basement and submerge myself in the crowd of people. Anna warned me that the lunchroom was socially stressful—and it can be—but I think the basement is the real popularity contest. Since every drama class takes place down here, it’s like a five-minute party in between each class—which sounds fun but can be intimidating to the new kid with a limited social circle. Anna usually finds me—I swear she has a tracking device. And I’m trying to make friends but don’t seem to be connecting.

When I walk into Audition Technique, the chairs are pushed against the wall and everyone is sitting on the floor facing the stage. I find a spot with a good view and lean against my backpack. A deep breath takes more concentration now that my binder has shrunk. (Aunt Lil “sends” the laundry out and it comes back folded and smelling so clean—another reason New York is a magical place—but they shrank my binder. I will hand-wash going forward.) I’m having trouble taking a full breath when I’m seated, especially on the floor.

I check Insta—I’m up to sixty-five followers. Only one hundred and seventy million or so away from Kim Kardashian. Not a great following. Not a great look. I need to do something about that. I take a couple of selfies, but the angle is wrong. Not flattering enough to post.

Ms. Ramos enters the room with a big smile. She’s a fast-talking ball of energy, speed-walking around the room, always acting things out using accents and celebrity impersonations. There’s a chaotic energy to her teaching, but it keeps me interested. Today is no exception for the Ms. Ramos Show. She begins the class with a full review of the latest jukebox musical to hit Broadway. “Did there need to be an entire musical about the Goo Goo Dolls?” she asks rhetorically.

Jukebox musicals tell a story through preexisting popular music. My favorite jukebox musicals are Jersey Boys, Mamma Mia!, and American Idiot. Ms. Ramos strums her air guitar and does a high kick. “Now give me a musical about Blondie. That’s my kind of show.” She plays more air guitar and sings, “I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya.”

Whatever Ms. Ramos drinks or smokes before class, I want some.

“Today,” she says, settling into a stool in front of the class, “we will start working on our cold reads. The curveball of the audition process.” She swings an imaginary baseball bat. “And I’ll throw a curveball by inviting a special guest to help.”

A special guest? I sit up straight, hoping it’s someone famous.