I find center stage and smile at the line of people behind a long table facing me. “Yes,” I say with a shaky voice. “I’m here for Rizzo.”

They look at each other, silently deciding if this is acceptable. Do they have a rule book? Even if rules do exist, I doubt one is outlawing transgender people from playing both genders. “All right, August,” Mr. Daniels says. “Let’s see what you got.”

The teacher in the middle says, “Anna will be reading with you.”

“Great, thank you,” I say. Anna smiles at me, but it feels fake. This would be the perfect time for her to get back at me. I need to connect with her to do this scene. I return the smile.

I shut my eyes. I’m Rizzo. A tough Italian girl, more mature than her classmates, has seen more and been through more. I talk down to everyone because I feel below them. A big heart protected by the thickest skin at Rydell High.

I open my eyes and nod at Anna. She reads her first line. It’s a scene between Rizzo and the Pink Ladies. I pretend to chew gum and assert my dominance in the group. I throw attitude and make jokes. When I can, I let my soft side show.

When I finish, I see a couple of teachers nodding. Good sign.

Mr. Daniels says, “Nicely done, August.” Good sign.

Anna rolls her eyes. Bad sign.

“You ready to sing?” the music teacher, Mr. Gonzales, asks.

I nod and the piano starts playing “There Are Worse Things I Could Do.” I sing the chorus, releasing the raw pain of wanting a life different from your own. I let the feeling swell, and when I hit the last line—But to cry in front of you, That’s the worst thing I could do—a tear runs down my cheek. When I finish, I see a couple of smiles. One person claps. Good sign. I’ve worked so hard to be here. I’m finished with my first audition at SPA.

“Thank you, August,” Mr. Daniels says. “You are excused.”

“Thank you for considering me. And thank you, Anna.”

I head out the door and every eye in the hallway stares at me—trying to judge how my audition went. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and see Tess.

“Rizzo? Really, August?”

“How did you know?” I ask defensively.

“We all heard you sing, obviously,” Tess says, like I should have known.

“Yes,” I say, no way to lie. “I went for Rizzo.”

“That is so unfair. What gives you the right?”

She stands with her arms crossed and her foot tapping. I should tell her that she has no right confronting me. I should tell her so many things. Instead, I shake my head and walk off.

Eleven

Eleven

Friday, September 27

2:23 P.M.