I follow him to join the larger group at the front of the auditorium and catch Brittany glaring daggers at me. Wondering if there’s somebody else she could be stank-eyeing like that, I glance surreptitiously behind me. There isn’t anybody there. She tosses her blond hair emphatically over her shoulder and turns away from me.

Ed’s friend Mikey appears in front of me suddenly. I don’t notice him coming until I nearly run into him. He’s, like, three inches shorter than me, even counting his big Afro.

“I’m Mikey,” he says, shoving his hand out abruptly to shake. I’m taken aback at first, and then he looks like he regrets offering the handshake. He starts to slowly jellyfish it back toward himself before I take pity on him and shake it.

“I’m Shay.”

“Yeah! You’re my Valeria.” His brow furrows, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I mean, you’re not mine. Sorry, that was weird. I’m playing Oscar. So we’re playing love interests. That’s what I meant. Sorry.”

Oh my god, how does this guy have conversations with people? “Don’t worry about it,” I say, smiling at him in the hope that he’ll calm down. He doesn’t. Instead, he lingers in front of me, shifting awkwardly from side to side, until Mr. B hands out the scripts. I take mine and grab a seat far from Mikey.

“Before we get started, I want to address something that will shape how we approach this musical,” Mr. B says when we’re all settled in. “I know that some of you are playing characters who aren’t exactly like you, whether that’s because they’re a different race or they speak a different language or they grew up somewhere you’ve never been.”

I’m not sure all those things are equivalent? I’m okay with pretending I’m from New York. I have a bigger problem with pretending I’m Latina.

“But, guys, that’s what acting is,” Mr. B continues. “Not every character is going to be just like you. That’s part of the fun. I’m not a murderer, but I’ve played the lead in the Scottish play. You’ve got to find what’s essential about the character and play that. Not their race, not their gender, not their political beliefs . . .” He taps at his chest, over his heart. “But who they are inside.”

What is he talking about? First of all, I don’t know what “the Scottish play” is. More importantly, I’m baffled by this point he’s making about race and acting. Does this mean that the white people in the show are pretending to be Latinx or not? And what about me? Am I pretending I’m Dominican like my character? These characters talk about their identities all the time. But I guess Mr. B just wants us to ignore that.