Ipull into Laguna Hills University at exactly 7:30 a.m. on a sweltering Monday morning, even though freshman classes don’t start for another week. I’m still in pajama bottoms, an oversized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, long dark hair twisted into a half-dead bun. I barely slept last night. The Laguna Coast Players are posting the cast list forHerculesthis morning, and I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than the role of Megara.
Well... maybe one thing.
Buthe’snever wanted me back.
The lead in the local town play, at least, feels plausible. Not some impossible, pie-in-the-sky fantasy love story but something real. Attainable. The kind of thing you can actually earn with talent and a lot of hard work.
That’s why I spent my entire summer vacation holed up in my bedroom, memorizing lines, studying Greek mythology for character work, and watchingHerculeson repeat until I could sing every word of “I Won’t Say I’m in Love” backward in my sleep. Then I learned “The Gospel Truth,” “Zero to Hero,” and “A Star is Born” for good measure—even though Megara doesn’t even sing those songs.
Megara isn’t just another character inHercules. She’s the heart of it. Not some simpering, insipid princess, but fierce. Witty. Jaded, but not broken. Shehas a sharp tongue and a soft heart buried beneath all that armor, with a backstory soaked in heartbreak. The kind of part that sinks its teeth into you. That feels like me.
I don’t just want the role. I was made for it.
And I’m going to get it.
My heart thunders as I reach the doors of LHU’s Performing Arts Center, where the Players share space with the local college. I spot the cast list right away, pinned to the lobby bulletin board, and make a beeline for it. The first thing I notice is my little sister’s loopy, overly girly handwriting. The lined paper even smells like her too-sweet, vanilla-scented body lotion.
That little snake.
Amber must’ve come early to help the director post the list. I’d overheard her bragging to Mom last night about how tight she and Mr. DeWitt had gotten over summer after she’d spent the break volunteering and helping out with auditions.
I scan the paper eagerly, my eyes darting straight to Megara. I expect to see my name there—need to see it. Itshouldbe there.
Except… it isn’t.
I read through the list again.
Then again.
My name isn’t next to Megara. It isn’t next to anyone. I’m not even listed as a damn understudy. It’s like I was never even considered for any role. Like I didn’t exist at all.
I clench a fist behind my back, resisting the urgeto rip the paper off the board and stomp it under my black combat boots.
There must be some mistake. I crushed that audition. I know I did. So what the hell happened?
College students I don’t recognize start trickling in, along with a few seniors from my old school, Laguna Hills High. They push past me, elbowing in without so much as a glance in my direction.
One by one, I hear their delighted squeals and giddy laughter as they find out they got the roles they wanted. Blood pounds in my ears as my eyes keep coming back to the name listed next to Megara, instead of mine. I want to scream. Or cry.
Maybe both.
How canhername be there instead of mine?
“How the hell did Amber get the lead?” I snap at the board, too furious to care who hears me. “She’s tone-deaf!”
“Oh, don’t be such a sore loser. I won Megara fair and square.”
I turn around to find my sister standing there with a smug little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. With her pale blonde hair and mermaid-blue eyes the color of sunlit water, Amber looks like some kind of fairy-tale Disney princess. Which is ironic, considering the fact she’s usually playing the villain in my life.
Today, she’s all soft curls and bronzed skin, dressed in a frilly, bubblegum-pink dress that looks like it came with a tiara. Flanking her sides are her twobest friends, Brooke Bancroft and Tiffany Voss, nodding along in synchronized approval.
“How could you do this to me?” I whisper, low and sharp. “That part was mine.”
Amber just shrugs. “Guess you should’ve gone for the Cyclops. That role had your name all over it,Alysander.”
She says it with that fake-innocent tone she’s perfected, like my name itself is the punchline. Her friends chuckle—not because it’s actually funny, but because it’s Amber. She always knows how to get a laugh at someone else’s expense. And she knows exactly how much I hate my name. It’s supposed to be a modern twist on the great Greek hero Lysander, but all it’s ever done is confuse people. No one can ever pronounce it or spell it right.
“You don’t get it. I really needed this.” Heat crawls up my neck as I dig my nails into my palms.
