I look up, thrown by the interruption. Mr. Daniels’s assistant is standing over me, blocking the sun. “Just making new friends,” I say, nodding to the pigeon. She laughs, then claps twice—effectively frightening the dirty bird to the ground—and sits down beside me.

“I feel like we haven’t had a proper introduction. I’m Anna.”

“And I’m the infamous August Greene.”

“What was that about?” she asks.

“No clue.”

“August, your audition was something else. You killed it.”

“Did I?” I ask, unsure.

“Um, yes. I think you have a real shot.”

“I don’t think Mr. Daniels was impressed.”

She waves off my comment. “Oh, that’s just him. But he knows talent when he sees it.”

“Thanks,” I say, then take my first deep breath of the day.

Anna squints. Sizing me up. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Yes,” I say hesitantly.

“You nailed both Brick and Maggie. I haven’t seen that before. Does being transgender make playing both boy and girl parts easier?”

How did she know I’m trans? Maybe my aunt told Mr. Daniels and he told her. Or could she tell by looking at me? I wonder if it’s obvious. “As an actor, I can step into both genders, if that makes sense. I can play any character on earth.”

“Bold statement, sir,” she says with a sweet smile.

I first heard the word transgender in my eighth-grade history class. I’d heard the word before (I don’t live under a rock), but never really heard it. It was end of the year—my last days in middle school. The teacher was giving a lesson on LGBTQ history for pride month. The teacher was talking about the L, and G, and B, and I was Z(oning) out as usual. But then he got to the T, talking about how transgender people feel uncomfortable in their assigned gender, and everything he said fit me to a T.

I went home after school—locked my door—and looked online. I took a quiz called “Are You Transgender?” and it said I was, in fact, transgender. I took three more, just to make sure, all with the same result.

Those “Are You Transgender?” quizzes suggested that I talk to someone. But in a conservative town like West Grove, who was I supposed to talk to? I didn’t know any transgender people. I couldn’t tell my folks. I knew what they would say. I decided not to tell anyone else—not even Hugo, and he’s my best friend. It was just this big secret that I carried while wearing Mom-mandated dresses.

Anna taps on my shoulder, bringing me back to earth. “So, August, you’ve got me curious. What’s your deal?”