Committed Cancer, you might be feeling bored with a complacent partner. Mix things up! Single Cancer, this is the perfect time to join a pole dancing class or read a book on sex positions. You never know when the right guy will fall into your lap.

All the usual suspects show up to open auditions for the spring play. Mostly drama majors, and a few that aren’t, but who have done previous performances. We’re clearly divided by the level of seriousness we bring. All the drama majors sit together on one side of the stage and the others on the opposite.

As Dr. Rossen starts to explain the audition process to the newbies, a girl I don’t recognize steps into the theater.

The door slams behind her, and we all stare. She walks down the center aisle to the stage.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes.

Dr. Rossen looks over her glasses impatiently. “Are you here for auditions?”

She scans the stage, looking at all of us. I can see her gulp. “Yes.”

“Very good. Name?”

“Mila.”

“Have a seat, Mila.” She lifts her clipboard. “As I was saying, Director Hoffman and I will take auditions according to the sign-up. You’ll come out, do your prepared monologue, or read from the script. If needed, we’ll do callbacks at the end of the week. The cast list will be posted this weekend, and we’ll start rehearsals next Tuesday. Any questions?” She barely waits a second before ducking her head and walking toward the second row of seats. “Let’s get started.”

Everyone files off the stage except the unfortunate soul who got stuck with the first time slot. Dr. Rossen and Mr. Hoffman are both notoriously hard to impress. No one ever wants to go first, although, their moods really don’t improve much the farther along we get. And this is Mr. Hoffman’s first time taking the director role, so I have a feeling he’s going to be even harder to win over.

Mila looks apprehensive as people push past her. I remember just what it’s like to be the new girl.

“Hey,” I say as I approach. “I’m Reagan.”

“I know. I mean, I’m kind of a fan of yours. I’ve seen every student performance for the past two years.” Her smile is shy, but she talks fast and animated. “Mila.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She follows me behind the curtain. There are a few chairs and props that people sit on. I keep going, passing by everyone and dropping my backpack in a corner. “This is my little nook.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll go—”

“No, wait. That isn’t what I meant. Have a seat, please. I’m more nervous than normal. It would be nice to have some company.”