“So, what shows are you guys hoping for?” asks Livvy, stabbing at her salad. She has so many croutons piled on top that I can barely see the lettuce.
Jessa rolls her eyes. “I think it’s pretty clear where my black ass is going to end up.”
“Allerdale’s actually pretty good about color-blind casting,” Zoe says. “When my sister was here, they did—”
“Are you seriously trying to tell me there’s gonna be color-blind casting for Dreamgirls? Because that is not gonna happen.”
“All right, fair enough,” Zoe says.
“I’ll take anything as long as I don’t have to play someone’s little brother,” Livvy says. “I’m so sick of getting cast as a ten-year-old boy. Maybe I should get a boob job. How do you guys think I would look with a D-cup?”
“You’d look like someone’s little brother in drag,” Jessa says.
“Oliver Twisted,” I offer. Zoe snort-laughs into her Diet Coke, and Livvy throws a crouton at me. I love that I barely know these girls and we’re already comfortable enough to tease each other. They don’t seem catty and competitive like the girls at home—maybe they’re confident enough about their talent that they don’t need to cut each other down all the time. I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but part of me can’t help wondering whether Zoe and Jessa and Livvy will be my old friends when I’m my parents’ age. In the charged atmosphere of this dining hall, it seems possible.
“How high can you guys belt?” Jessa asks, reminding me that this is still a competition.
“I can hit an E,” Livvy says.
“Damn. I can only hit a D on a really good day. What about you guys?”
“I’m not much of a belter,” Zoe says.
“She’s being modest,” I tell Jessa. “She’s going to Juilliard in the fall.”
Jessa’s eyes get big. “Holy shit, are you serious? And here I was thinking I was cool ’cause I got into Carnegie Mellon.”
“Oh, shut up. Carnegie Mellon’s got a fantastic program,” Zoe says, and Jessa puffs up with pride.
“I’m going to Syracuse,” Livvy offers. It reminds me of how cats stick their heads right under your hand to demand petting, and Zoe indulges her by making an impressed face. Livvy smiles and turns to me. “What about you, Brooklyn?”
“I’ve got one more year of high school,” I answer, and I wonder how many times I’m going to have to say that. Maybe I should write it in Sharpie on my shirt.
Livvy looks confused. “Wait, are you not eighteen?”
“Not till November.”
“Girl, you must be amazing,” Jessa says. “I tried to get in here last year, and all I got was a form letter telling me to apply again when I was old enough.”
I give her a modest shrug, but I hadn’t realized until this moment that there is an age restriction on the apprentice company. How did I miss that on the application? I’m only a few months under the limit, so it’s possible the administration decided to let it slide. But it’s also possible I’m here because my mom called in a favor with the artistic director. What if I didn’t earn my spot in the company at all? I start to feel a little dizzy.
Knock it off, I tell myself. It doesn’t matter why you’re here. You’ll get the same training either way. It’s not like anyone’s going to know. I take a few deep breaths and try to pull myself together before anyone notices I’m acting weird.
Zoe takes another bite from the wrong end of her pizza. “Have you guys heard any rumors about who’s teaching our master classes?” she asks.
“Marcus always teaches one,” Livvy says.
Jessa wiggles her fingers. “Oooh, the high-and-mighty festival director comes down off his pedestal.”
“I can’t wait,” I say. “I hear he’s the absolute best.” Everyone in the theater world knows how great Marcus Spooner is, but it still makes me feel like I’m on the inside to be able to say it with authority.
“I heard Susan Margolis might come do a voice class with us,” Jessa says.
“Isn’t she supposed to be a little weird?” Livvy asks. “I heard she carries around a bunch of plastic dinosaurs in her bag, like, all the time. She calls them her muses.”
Zoe shrugs. “I mean, let’s be honest, who in this business isn’t a little weird?”
“I’d rather have someone like Lana Blake Shepard,” Livvy says. “She did a workshop at my high school once, and it was unreal.”
I’m in the middle of a sip of water, and I inhale it and start coughing like crazy. Zoe whacks me on the back, but she’s totally focused on Livvy. “You’ve met Lana Blake Shepard? That woman is my idol. Did you talk to her at all? Like, one-on-one?”
“A little. She’s a total genius. And she told me I had ‘serious potential.’ Can you believe that? I thought I was going to die.”
“Do you live in the city? I heard she visits high schools there all the time.”
Livvy sighs. “I wish. I’m from north Jersey. But it’s really close to the city.”