“I wanted to check in with you, August. How was your first week here at our fine school?”

Mr. Daniels seems relaxed. Maybe he just wants to chat. I loosen up a little. “The homework is as overwhelming as promised,” I admit.

Mr. Daniels says, “Yes, it’s no easy task. We ask more from our students because we know they are capable.”

“Who needs sleep?” I joke, but Mr. Daniels isn’t amused.

“Mr. Greene, when you auditioned, I saw a spark. And I knew we could turn that spark into a flame. But I’ve been surprised by your attitude in class. I don’t see you taking notes. You make jokes. I worry you aren’t taking this seriously.”

“Is this about my scene with Tess?” I ask, ready to explain.

He shakes his head. “This is about you.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the heart. I hate that he thinks that. The class clown is an easy role. I didn’t think it would lead to this. “Mr. Daniels, I promise I’m taking this seriously. Please believe me. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I don’t believe it yet. Please don’t make me regret my selection for this spot.”

“You won’t,” I say.

“I need to see more from you, August.”

“You will.”

I think of Anna and the day we spent together after the audition. The long hug. She went home that night and talked to her dad. He was probably on the fence about me until Anna put her foot down and demanded that I get the spot. Mr. Daniels—probably smoking a pipe and reading the paper—wanted to avoid an argument with his persistent daughter and agreed to it. Or worse, Mr. Daniels was going to pass on me, but Anna swore she’d quit acting or stop cleaning the toilet.

Mr. Daniels picks a piece of lint off his turtleneck. “I understand that this must be quite an adjustment from Pennsylvania. And making new friends is important. But within these walls, respect goes further than a laugh. You should think about that approach.”

“I will,” I say, letting the feeling of defeat really soak in.

“And there’s a counselor at this school,” he says. “If you need someone to talk to.”

My head gets hot. “I’m fine. But thank you.”

Mr. Daniels stands up. “Very well. I’m looking forward to your monologue later this week.”

“As am I,” I lie. I haven’t picked a monologue to perform yet.