“I’m really nervous,” Emily said softly, fidgeting with the CD case. “I mean, everyone here looks like they’re really talented. I’m just going to make a fool of myself, I know it. Maybe I should just leave now and save myself the embarrassment.”

“Look,” Ophelia began, and then took the CD out of Emily’s hands. “First of all, stop messing with the CD case or you won’t be able to open it when you need to.” She placed the CD case on the small table beside her. “Now, relax,” she said. “You’ll do fine. And you are not leaving. I spent all those hours practicing with you to make sure this audition would go smoothly. When they call you in, I want you to make me proud. You are not going to mess up.”

Emily and Ophelia were in a waiting room in one of the buildings at the University of North Oakdale. There were auditions for parts in the school’s production of Cats, and S had suggested that Emily try out, since she’d done well in the production of West Side Story earlier in the year. Emily showed some uncertainty, but she’d agreed, and with Ophelia’s help, she’d put together an audition routine that Ophelia assured her would be certain to dazzle all. Still, despite all the preparations, Emily couldn’t help but be nervous, and who could blame her? She was going up against far older and more experienced students.

“Look,” Ophelia said, “I bet you’ll get a part.”

“Well, that’s kind of a given,” Emily said wryly, “given that the play requires a good-sized cast. I’ll probably be put into the chorus or something.”

“Well, everyone has to start somewhere. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to be around lots of hot guys.”

“But I already have a boyfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t look,” Ophelia said with a wink.



“Oh God,” Cleo said to Clayton, “this is nuts. If I hear one more lousy rendition of Memory, I’m going to kill someone, I swear.”

Cleo and Clayton were overseeing the auditions, and they were less than impressed with what they had seen so far.

“The problem is,” Clayton replied, “that none of these people are able to sing with any real emotion. We need people who can express themselves, who aren’t just these starry-eyed fools with a desire to be seen.”

“You’re right,” Cleo said with a sigh, “but this is a public college. Our chances of finding genuinely talented people are slim. At least this isn’t a high school production.” She and Clayton both groaned in disgust at this thought.

“Well, I guess we should call in the next person,” Clayton remarked. He peered at the list of people waiting to audition, then rose and went to the door, and, opening it, called into the waiting room, “We would like to see Emily Desjardin.”

“Good luck!” Ophelia said, squeezing her friend’s hands.

“Yeah, I need it,” Emily replied. She rose, smoothed her hair down, and walked over to the door. A few of the people waiting to audition looked over at her and snickered a little. Ophelia fumed silently to herself, her hands clenched into fists. Then, she looked over at the table beside her and saw the CD case.

Oh, rats! Ophelia thought. That’s Emily’s CD, the one she needs for her audition!


She snatched it up and hurried over to the door to the auditioning room, and, without a second thought, burst in.

“Emily, you forgot your CD!” she exclaimed, handing Emily the CD case.

“Oh, thanks,” Emily replied gratefully. “I totally forgot about it, I was so nervous.”

“Excuse me, but who are you?” Cleo asked.

“I’m Ophelia, one of Emily’s friends. By the way, based on how idiotically some of the people in that waiting room are acting, you might be seeing a lot more of me.”

“How so?” Clayton asked.

“Let’s just say this, mister: they may be in college, but they’re still stuck in the high school mentality that appearance is a direct expression of a person’s ability.”

Cleo looked over at Clayton, a strange look on her face. Clayton shook his head slightly at her, but Cleo raised her eyebrow at him. He sighed and nodded slowly.

“Have you ever given much thought to performing in plays?” Cleo asked Ophelia.

“Not really,” Ophelia replied. “I mean, I like singing and dancing and all, but I’d rather not deal with egotistical idiots while doing it, if you get what I mean.”

“You sing and dance?” Clayton asked.

“Yeah, some.”

“Would you care to demonstrate?” Cleo asked.

“Uh, okay…” Ophelia said slowly. “What would you like me to sing?”

“And when can we get to my audition?” Emily spoke up, glaring.

“Soon,” Cleo said to Emily. To Ophelia, she said, “Just sing whatever you want.”

Ophelia shrugged at Emily, who flopped into a nearby chair, looking furious. Ophelia sang There’s a Fine, Fine Line from Avenue Q. Cleo nodded at Clayton, who nodded back.

“Yeah, this has been great and all, but I’m going to get going so you can audition Emily,” Ophelia said, walking out of the room. Emily glowered at her as she left, her hands clenched into fists.


“So, how did it go?” Ophelia asked, as Emily walked out of the building.

In response, Emily threw the CD case at Ophelia. “Take your f***ing CD,” she snapped.

“What’s your damn problem?” Ophelia cried out, startled by Emily’s venom.

“You know what my damn problem is,” Emily yelled. “You totally freaking ruined my audition. You just burst in there and drew all the attention to yourself and made me look bad. The goddamn people auditioning me were more interesting in finding out your contact information and all than seeing what I can do.”

“Emily, I--” Ophelia started.

“Don’t talk to me. In fact, I don’t even want to be in your car,” Emily snapped.

“How are you going to get home?” Ophelia asked.

“S is auditioning too. I’m going to catch a ride with him.”

“You’re really taking this too personally,” Ophelia remarked.

“Am I?” Emily said sharply. “There’s only a few things I actually enjoy and am reasonably good at. And what do you do? You ruin things for me. Some friend you are!”

With that said, she stormed away. Ophelia rolled her eyes and muttered, “She’ll get over it. But maybe I shouldn't have brought the damn CD in to her, if it bothered her that much. Let her try to handle that problem alone and all.”


“I’ll show her,” Emily muttered to herself. “I’ll show her just what it feels like.”

She tapped at her computer keyboard, her typing rapid-fire. She was planning, thinking.

“What matters to her? What can I invade, take from her, ruin for her?”

She slumped in her seat, eyes narrowed. She looked up at the ceiling, as though searching for the answer there. Then, it hit her.

“Art,” Emily said to herself. “The annual art competition at our school is coming up.” A smile slowly crossed her face. “I’ll enter the art competition. Ophelia’s been talking about it for weeks. It’ll seriously tick her off when she sees that I’ve entered it also.”

Emily grabbed up a notebook nearby and began sketching her idea for an entry.