This might be an interesting story all by itself. A sophomore girl gets cast in the lead in the spring musical. She practices for months on end, rehearsing the same song until it is a memory, while the others practice the last week, lacking the energy. She wants the “leading lady” while the others see her as “ensemble.” If she’d been two years older, it would have been expected. But she is a sophomore girl, and most get rejected. She grows into a woman who speaks of her experiences in the third-person, as if it will somehow dull the pain she remembers leading up to the audition. 

A girl who has the talent is most widely feared, for the others become petty when they see her name on the list. I talked with my peers several times, longing for the support, but they dragged me down. I argued that I was capable, but they claimed that giving the seniors leads was inescapable. They whispered behind my back, piercing negative thoughts into my mind. They, however, had not known how long I had prepared. They were scrambling to put the pieces of their audition together when mine was neatly stacked in my brain. As a sophomore, I was expected to fail. 

I refused to give in to the rumors. I was prepared. I was talented. I was the character. I mastered the song 8 months in advance, running it until I was sick of the tune. I sang it in the car, then for my peers, and then for the directors. I studied the accent by playing recordings and trying to replicate every syllable. I began to incorporate the accent into my daily life. I watched the movie, absorbing the character and personality of the lead. I knew I would do whatever it took to get to where I wanted to be. With equal parts of excitement and desperation, I read the cast list. Tears streamed down my face as I knew that for one of the first times, a sophomore girl was cast the lead.