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sweater off the end of the bunk bed for decoration, since it would probably be too hot to wear it much anyway. I had a poster from Wicked and another from the movie of Cabaret rolled in a cardboard tube. Iz lent me her tape.
    Where was I from?
    Ohio. Where was she from?
    San Diego. Iz went to a specialized arts school and studied voice and dance. Did I tap?
    Yes. Did she?
    Yes. Jazz?
    Yes. Jazz?
    Yes. Ballet?
    Not really. Ballet?
    Not really! What shows?
    What?
    What shows had I been in?
    Oh. Um. A West Side Story medley at Miss Delilah’s.
    What shows had she been in? Damn Yankees , Kiss Me Kate, and Born Yesterday , last year at school. All leads.
    Oh. Wow.
    What were my electives?
    Stage Combat and Restoration Comedy. What were hers?
    Musical Theater Audition Prep and Restoration Comedy!
    “I wanted M-TAP, but I didn’t get it,” I said.
    “Everyone wants it,” said Iz, stretching her feet up to touch the ceiling. “This is my third year here and I had to wait three years to get in. They’re very selective.”
    I was about to ask her more, when a white-blond puff of pink looked in, nodded, waved as if to say, “Don’t let me disturb you,” disappeared, and then backed into the room, lugging an enormous duffel.
    Iz and I fell silent while the girl, who was stout and sweating, climbed to the top of the second bunk, pulled a large Jekyll & Hyde poster out of the tube, and taped it up on the ceiling—presumably so she could look at it before she went to sleep.
    Eeww.
    I mean, it’s one thing for me to have Wicked and Cabaret on the wall by the dressers, or for Iz to have Harry Connick, Jr. in Pajama Game up on one side of our bathroom door, and Hugh Jackman in Oklahoma! on the other—because those shows are all great. Hugh and Harry are both hot. But it is quite another thing to have a bizarre split-personality half-monster guy biting a prostitute. Which is what the Jekyll & Hyde poster was. I hadn’t seen the musical, but I read the book in English, so I knew that Dr. Jekyll turns into a limping hunchback murderer whenever he drinks a magic potion, and that he is absolutely not the person you’d want staring down at you from above your bed.
    “I’m Sadye,” I said to the new girl, after she had finished taping. “And this is Isadora.”
    “Candie.” Her pink tank top made her damp, flushed face appear even pinker, and she had the slightly hysterical look of a white toy poodle.
    “Iz,” I said. “Take a wild guess. What’s our new roommate’s favorite show?”
    Isadora closed her eyes and pretended to think deeply. “Umm . . . Jekyll & Hyde ?”
    Candie nodded.
    “I thought it closed ages ago,” said Iz.
    “In 2001. But I saw it, even though I was only eleven.” Candie touched the poster gently. “It was my birthday present. Then I saw the tour, which was Chuck Wagner, you know, the guy who worked on it before Bob came on? He was amazing. I have all the different recordings.”
    I had no idea what she was talking about. She spoke as if this Bob guy were the president or Liza Minnelli or something.
    “I saw Chuck do it twice. And last year I played Emma at school.” Candie’s face brightened. “We had to do extra performances; it was really popular.”
    “Nice,” I said.
    “I wanted to be Lucy, of course, everyone wants to be Lucy—that’s the best part—but I was happy with Emma.” Candie looked up at the creepy picture of the split-personality half-monster guy with love in her eyes. “My boyfriend played the lead. At least, he was my boyfriend during the show. Not that we’re still together.”
    As we soon discovered, Candie’s dominant characteristic was that she had no filter. She would lay out her whole life before total strangers. She was obsessed with the whole ex-boyfriend, Jekyll & Hyde experience, and had no ability whatsoever to think that maybe she’d want to present herself as seminormal to the people she’d be living with.
    Foremost in her mind upon arriving at