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Amanda lent me as Kelly squishes past us to get back to her seat. At the front of the house, I hand my music to the pianist. Somehow, I walk up the wooden steps to the stage without tripping over my feet. For someone who’s clearly meant for the stage, I get embarrassingly nervous for auditions. I read a technique book once that said nerves keep the actor humble. I’ll go with that, I suppose.
    When I reach the microphone, I focus on the fire exit sign, way over everyone’s heads, but not before catching Amanda’s reassuring nod from the audience, Harrison’s thumbs-up, and Trevor’s smirk—whatever that means. I take a deep breath and inhale the dusty wood and fabric scent of the stage. It smells like home, years spent in theaters all over the place with my dad before he left. And like my future.
    I can do this. I want to do this. I want—no, need —to be Maria. I am Maria. The piano starts. I take another deep breath.
    “The hills are alive . . .” I sing. I picked this song from The Sound of Music on purpose. I ran it all summer in my voice lessons. I can do this piece in my sleep. My voice comes out strong and confident as I serenade the fire exit sign.
    “To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls . . .” I move around the stage with grace and poise. This is going even better than I thought it would. Amanda was right. I shouldn’t have doubted myself.
    I’m almost finished with the song. A few more lines and I’m home free. That part is so mine I can almost taste it. “My heart will be bless—” CRACK .
    I cough. Oh my God. That did not just happen.
    “. . . With the sound of music . . .” I force myself to finish the song. Then I smile. What problem? There’s no problem at all. My voice didn’t crack in the middle of the most important part of the whole freaking song. I silently dare Ms. Sharp to say something. She doesn’t. Instead, she hands me a copy of the script before Hannah even has a chance to get up, and asks me to turn to page forty-seven.
    I force the song disaster out of my head. Time to concentrate on reading. I don’t even have to look at the script as I rattle off lines for three different parts.
    “Thank you, Casey.” Ms. Sharp smiles at me.
    I numbly pass the script back to her and climb down from the stage. Gabby didn’t get “thank you” after she read. Gabby got “excellent,” and Amanda got “great work.”
    It takes all my willpower not to go flying out the door and running all the way home in the September heat, wool skirt or not. Instead, I plunk down in a seat next to my friends.
    “You read great,” Kelly says.
    I can’t even look at her. She’s just being nice.
    “Case, it wasn’t that bad,” Amanda says. “The song sounded perfect up until your voice cracked. I’m sure Ms. Sharp knows that was a one-time thing. I’ve never heard you do that before. Plus, Kelly’s right. You read really well. Much better than Gabby.”
    “Are you serious? It was awful!” I bite my lip to keep from crying. No way am I crying here. Not when Trevor’s sitting just two rows ahead with Gabby. And—ugh—why do I even care what he thinks?
    “You’ll get the part,” Harrison says, leaning over Amanda.
    “And Harrison will be the Captain, and it’ll be so romantic. Just think of that kiss!” Amanda adds.
    I almost choke on my tongue. Harrison’s face goes bright red. I’ve had my suspicions about Harrison for a while now. That boy is so far in the closet, he’s turning into last year’s Christmas sweater.
    “See?” Amanda says. “It’s not that bad. It could be much worse!”
    Harrison mumbles something, but I’ve already turned back to watch the rest of the auditions. When Harrison’s called, he does fine, but nowhere near the level of Trevor, who follows him.
    I fight it, but I think I sigh a little when Trevor finishes. Amanda gives me a look.
    “Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I can’t objectively acknowledge his