“Thank you, Meena,” Jack says, not loving the interruption. “Every seat was filled that night. Even the seniors show up to freshman showcase. Seriously, you would not want to do anything embarrassing in front of that kind of crowd.”

“Yes, everyone was there. Thank you for making it clear,” Anna says.

“No problem, girl,” they say.

Anna picks up the story from there. “I have two minutes in the middle of the first act to use the bathroom. Nerves do crazy things to my bladder. As usual, I run offstage to the bathroom, pull down my tights, and let it goooo,” she sings like the Disney song. “But little did I know, someone forgot to do her job.”

“That’s me,” Meena admits. “I was on the sound board and didn’t turn her mic off. The entire audience heard her pee. And for that, I—”

“Apologize,” Juliet and Jack say together, then high-five.

“And the whole audience hears ppppptssssssssss,” Jack says.

“It gets worse. I had no clue that this went down, so I run back onstage, hit my mark, and say, ‘What did I miss?’”

“The crowd laughed so hard they almost pissed themselves,” Jacks adds, laughing so much they almost piss themself.

Anna shakes her head. “Lucky for me, I have a great therapist.”

Juliet hugs Anna and everyone laughs. Jack does a little dance, singing pppppstttttt. Meena tries to apologize across the table. Look at my new friends, so full of life. These are my people. I have found my people.

The realization that I’ll be giving my monologue hits me again. My stomach turns, and nerves run through my body. I need to impress. The monologues started yesterday. Anna was first. She was awesome—gracefully slipping into Val Clarke from A Chorus Line. The last line had everyone on their feet: So I said fuck you, Radio City and the Rockettes! I’m gonna make it on Broadway!

The other monologues were smartly picked and performed. People got creative. A guy did a monologue from Deadpool. A girl reenacted her grandma’s will. As weird as it all sounds, it worked. A good monologue is meant to show your range, your ability to take on a character, and your emotional delivery. It’s like a short story. After seeing everyone yesterday, I started second-guessing my selection. But I’ve rehearsed and I’m ready. I need to trust myself.

Juliet leans over. “August, how are you?”

“Good,” I say. Juliet checks on me often. It’s sweet. “Just wondering, for a friend,” I say with a smile. “If you like someone, when do you tell them you’re trans?”

Juliet nods in the direction of Anna. “I think she knows.”

I ignore her assumption. “Do you talk to them about it? Before anything happens?”

She shrugs. “It’s different every time. I’ll bring it up casually in conversation if I think my crush might not know.”