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“The theater is so endlessly fascinating because it’s so accidental.”

—Arthur Miller

I repeated the order of the catwalk lights in my head while waiting for rehearsal to begin, hoping it’d calm my nerves. R1, R2, R3, E1, E2, E3…chained together in groups of three…

But nothing helped.

As the auditorium continued to fill with the production crew, my stomach squirmed, feeling hollower by the minute. I studied each face that passed me, recognizing only a handful of them. The ones I did know were by reputation. The regulars, whose drama club pictures and trophies still dominated the bookshelves in the theater classroom at Fairfield High, were famous not only in our town but also in the tri-county area. Shows were picked every summer based off which of them would be returning home.

I wanted this opportunity so badly, I almost cried in front of Ms. Sparrow when she offered it to me last spring—my first “job” with the prestigious summer troupe. But did I really belong with this elite group of thespians?

“Hey.” Lauryn squeezed my hand. “You’ve got this.”

I smiled and immediately my jitters calmed.

Thank God for Lauryn.

Sometimes I swore she had a sixth sense about me, knowing exactly what to say and how to say it the moment I needed it the most. While I loved that my best friend and I got to do this show together this summer, I loved the fact that she got the lead over a handful of hungry, crazy-talented college girls even more.

Lauryn was a total badass.

The murmurs around me hushed when Ms. Sparrow, our director, flitted across the empty stage, weaving around as if crowds of people were in her way. She wore square red-rimmed glasses and fiery lipstick to match. Around her neck lay one of her infamous scarves—black with white polka dots. Her white flowy blouse billowed behind her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Once she hit center stage where the light burned brightest (thanks to me), she stopped and clapped twice.

“Welcome, tech and set crew, costuming and makeup, to this season’s production of the classic Shakespearean tragedy Romeo and Juliet,” her voice trilled. “I am Ms. Sparrow, your director, and the cast and I are thrilled that you chose to spend your summer vacation with us here in the theater.”

In the three years I’ve worked with her at the high school, she always said “theater” with a slight British accent. She was a piece of work. But her shows always sold out weeks ahead of opening night, and even though she was known for working a cast till they collapsed, everyone still respected the heck out of her.

I know I did.

“Do you really think she’s related to Kristin Chenoweth?” Lauryn whispered.

I leaned back, propping my knees on the back of the seat in front of me. “Who knows.”

Ms. Sparrow walked around the stage, motioning to empty spots while sharing her vision of what the sets would look like once they were completed.

Lauryn kept her voice low. “Did you hear what happened to Tracey?”

“No. What?” I asked.

“After the party got busted by the cops, she was sentenced to community service. At the library. Can you imagine Tracey McInnis working at the library?”

I snickered. “Ms. Jackson is going to eat her alive.”

Lauryn snorted loudly, and Ms. Sparrow gave a sharp clap. “And there you have it. Now, where is Eliza Crowley?”

Crap. Was that center spot too bright?

Lauryn pushed and poked me before she pointed at my head. “She’s right here.”

Gee, thanks. I tugged my Crowley Cardinals ball cap lower.

“For those of you who don’t know her, this is Eliza Crowley, granddaughter to Fairfield’s Lady of the Stage, Marguerite Crowley.” Ms. Sparrow waved her hand toward me, smiling.

Dozens of heads whipped around and sized me up like I was an invader.

An outsider.

Not one of them.