I walk down to the theatre with Jude, Lex, and Val. And even before Jude pulls open the door, I feel the tingle of shared energy. All those dreams and all that nervousness, all crammed into the old barn. It fills up the whole space, from the scuffed floor to the big wooden beams of the ceiling. It’s palpable. Thick as the fog that creeps up the lawn at night.

Willa is waiting for us onstage, and she directs us all to sit in the front row. She stands there with her clipboard and looks us all over, and it hits me again how striking she is. That long, dark hair streaked with gray. Those intense eyes. So much like her son’s.

A hush falls over the group, and Willa cocks her head to one side. She waits. And we wait. The air is humming. It snaps and crackles with excitement. “There’s always such beautiful possibility at a first rehearsal. Isn’t there?” Everyone nods and agrees. We’re on pins and needles, and she knows it. “Before I announce the cast for our show, I want to remind you that each one of you is on a personal journey. Don’t compare paths, and don’t compare roles. There’s plenty of room for everyone to shine.”

Willa starts calling off names and characters, starting with all the smaller parts. All the kids in the dance scene. The waitress. A police officer. One by one, people get up and move to Jude’s stage manager table to pick up their scripts. Lex is playing Orion’s best friend, and Val is Eden’s older sister. Not the leads, but they’re both great parts with really good scenes.

I’m waiting. Holding my breath. Every time Willa announces a female role and it’s not me, Lex looks at me with this I told you so look on his face. I’m starting to feel a little dizzy with the excitement of it all. The anticipation.

The hope.

“I told you. It’s you,” Lex whispers in my ear. “Holy shit. You’re Eden.” But I refuse to let myself think it. Not until Willa says the words.

We’re running out of parts. Almost everyone is holding a script in their hands, and my heart is really starting to beat in my throat. Then the door creaks on its hinges.

“Nice of you to join us,” Willa says without looking up from her clipboard. “You know you’re late.”

“Shit,” Val whispers. “Somebody fucked up already.” I can’t see the door from where I’m sitting, but I know Val’s right. Somebody’s in big trouble. Because Willa’s rule number one was be on time.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice says. “I got a little lost.” Cole Culver slips into a seat at the end of the front row, and I feel my stomach flip-flop. “First night of rehearsal and all.”