When Imogen and I finally rejoined the circle, auditions were nearly finished. It was a fairly brief process because most of these kids didn’t give a shit. There were exceptions, though. Sebastian auditioned for the role of Sebastian—surprise, surprise—and he nailed it. Tucker was shockingly literate and took his audition seriously—despite auditioning for the role of Gandalf. (He read the lines of Sir Toby Belch, the crazy uncle.) And then there was Daisy, who proceeded to recite more words than I had heard her speak in a lifetime.

The Shyamalan-level plot twist of them all, however, was Jayden. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him “the best male performance”—honestly, that probably (bafflingly) went to Tucker—but he was good. Really good. And even weirder, he wasn’t a total douche about it.

Holden was next—he volunteered to go before Wynezra—and performed his role with a sort of cultish fervor he usually reserved for worshipping the hacktivist group Anonymous. This was weird especially because he was auditioning for either Curio or Valentine, which were non-roles. However, they were also Duke Orsino’s servants and basically his best bros. Holden was clearly trying to be in a role close to me.

Little did he know, Wynonna was going to fuck things up catastrophically.

“Very good, very good,” said Ziggy, clapping. “All righty, Ezra. You’re next.”

Wynezra stood up, winked at me, and strutted up the stairs to the center of the stage. Then she extended her long, ropy arms like she was pinned to a clothesline. Her face became brazenly emotionless as she stared straight ahead.

And said nothing.

“Uh…” said Ziggy. He glanced precariously at an open folder in his hands, purportedly outlining the cast of characters. “And you’re auditioning as…”

Wynezra leaned slightly toward Ziggy but otherwise remained stiff and lifeless.

“I’m a tree,” she whispered.

The entire theater fell apart with laughter. Literally everyone joined in—even Jayden, who should have hated the bold, new Ezra Slevin at this point.

Everyone except Holden and me—two best friends who were sitting right next to each other, and yet light-years apart.

All because of this clown masquerading in my body.

Wynonna fucking Jones, you are going down.

“A tree?” said Ziggy.

“Or a billboard,” said Wynezra. “Did they have billboards back then? Really, I’m flexible in the inanimate object department.”

“Suit yourself, amigo,” said Ziggy. He clucked his tongue with disappointment and checked something off in his folder. “Wynonna, you’re up.”

I took a deep breath. Stood up. Ascended the stairs and stepped onto the center of the stage.

I did not bring my script with me.

“What role are you auditioning for?” said Ziggy.

“Duke Orsino,” I said flatly.