She lets her bag fall to the ground. “You’re nervous? I’ve never done this before.”

“Really? Never?”

She shakes her head.

“Not in elementary school or summer camp?” I thought everyone had done some theater, however unwillingly.

“That look on your face…” She waves her hand in a circle dramatically. “Is not helping.”

“Sorry.” I offer her an apologetic smile. “We don’t get a lot of new blood around here. Are you doing a monologue or reading from the script?”

Mr. Hoffman is one of the few directors who lets us audition for a specific part. He still casts us however he feels best suits the show, but he at least pretends to take our preferences into consideration.

“I’m not sure.” She pulls out a printed script. “You?”

I hesitate to tell her. She’ll know in a few minutes anyway. “I’m reading the youngest sister’s tantrum at the end of act one.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen and her mouth hangs open. “That’s so different from anything you’ve done.”

“No kidding.” I’ve been cast as the quiet, the serious, the average girl, but I’ve never played a comedic or silly role. And I’ve never been the lead. Both are out of my comfort zone, but I know it’s just what I need to take my acting to the next level. I can’t play the same role forever—quiet, hot girl. Besides, everyone is hot in Hollywood. I need more than looks and a few college plays under my belt to be taken seriously anywhere outside of Valley University. Assuming that’s where I go next. I haven’t made plans that far ahead, but I like to be prepared for anything.

And I grew up on a steady diet of I Love Lucy reruns and cinnamon-sugar toast. Comedic and silly was sort of my whole jam. My mom was not the most attentive parent. When I got old enough to feed myself, she stopped pretending she wanted to be home altogether. She was gone more than she was at home. I’d stay up late, partly waiting for her and partly too afraid to sleep, and I would watch whatever late-night TV I could get. My cell phone bill rarely got paid, but with a decent antenna, I could manage a few channels even when the cable got shut off.

I got pretty good at taking care of myself. Lucy, and others, kept me company and helped me feel less alone. I probably learned more life lessons from TV parents than my own mother. All but the most important one—not all mothers want to be a mom.

“I was thinking about reading a few lines for the middle sister,” Mila says. “She doesn’t say a lot, but she’s on stage quite a bit.”