Great job

　　I fiddle with my new bracelet, trace the tiny letter beads with my name on it while waiting for my turn. Miss Jota takes note as Whitney performs. Much to my annoyance, Whitney’s red pointed heels connect hard to the wooden floor of the stage, producing ear-scratching sounds. I focus on Miss Jota’s face, trying to tell if she’s pleased with Whitney’s performance but she gives nothing away. Whitney finishes with a mock bow, her friends clap and she climbs down the stage. Miss Jota picks a sheet from the table, squinting at the list.

　　“Theresa Mower?” I raise a hand. “Your turn.” My heart thumps against my ribcage, I rumple the script and shuffle to the stage. Twice, I almost trip and the girls seated behind me giggle. I release my breath when I make it to the stage, turning to face the small crowd. “You are auditioning for the role of Juliet?” 

　　“Yes,” I answer with a nod, very much aware Whitney also auditioned for that role. I must get it.