A semicircle of casting directors awaits me on the stage: Tony sits on an elevated director’s chair between a middle-aged woman who is apparently the drama adviser and the girl playing the part of the Wicked Witch. Kenzie stands in front of them, hand on hip, ready to do an audition scene together with me as Glinda and her as Dorothy.

She hands me a script and we run through about ten lines. Then, it’s time to sing.

I stand in front of the circle, trying to ignore the icy looks from Kenzie, who clearly hasn’t forgiven or forgotten my involvement in Asad’s curtain bombing. I’m singing a cappella, which makes me feel even more alone and naked.

The only way I’m doing this is to shut out the eyes staring at me, so I close my own, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. Just like in the debridement tank, I detach from my body, and before I know it, I’m whispering the final lines.

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why, then,

Oh, why

Can’t I?

My final note lingers in the air when I open my eyes. The drama teacher holds her glasses as she swipes a tissue under her eyes in a way that makes me feel even more exposed.

Tony breaks the hush, clattering his clipboard to the floor. I’m pretty sure he also swears under his breath by the way the teacher shushes him.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m pissed,” he says. He turns to me, like I owe him an explanation. “Why didn’t you try out at the actual auditions? I would have given you the le—”

Kenzie stands up abruptly, cutting him off midword.

“He’ll let you know,” she says to me curtly. Tony continues to speak in hushed, hot tones to the teacher as I gather up my stuff.

If my life were a musical, this would be the scene where the judges and I break into a choreographed dance. They’d lift me on their shoulders while actual bluebirds soared over rainbowed skies.

Instead, Kenzie swings the door open and gestures for me to leave.

Life is not a musical.

Piper and I are sitting on the curb, waiting for our rides, when Tony comes up behind us.

“Ava?”

“Yeah.” I stand up but still only come to his chest.

“The part is yours,” he says. “It’s not a huge role, of course, but it will be good experience for next year when you try out at the real auditions.”

I smile and shake my head.

“One step at a time.”

“So are you in?” He sticks out his hand. “And you do realize you can’t sing with your eyes closed in the play, though, right?”

“Definitely,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’m in.”

Piper shrieks so loud I have to shush her.

I stop him as he turns to leave.