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whispered to her, grinning.
    “I know … I think that’s what I love about New York. You’re never alone.”
    “That’s for sure.” They both laughed, and fifteen minutes later the driver reached the studio. They asked him to be back in an hour, and they hurried inside. A guard at the front door looked over Bailey’s paperwork, checked their IDs, and let them inside. As soon as they walked into the lobby of the rehearsal space, they heard the music. On the other side of the door the cast was practicing the song “Without Love,” and suddenly Bailey’s heart soared with what lay ahead. It was really happening! She belonged here … performing on Broadway.
    Quietly they crept in the back door of the studio and looked for a seat along the rear wall. Francesca Tilly, the show’s director, had asked them to come. But that didn’t mean she would want her rehearsal interrupted. The space was large enough for the entire cast to be spread out, and from what Bailey could tell, everyone knew the dance. But this was how they stayed strong. They practiced until the movements were like breathing.
    The moment the song ended, Francesca clapped her hands and pointed toward the back of the room. “Alright, family, turn around.” Twenty-some dancers did as she asked, curious looks on their faces. “This is your newest sister. She’ll begin rehearsals Wednesday.” Francesca smiled big toward Bailey and her mom. “Welcome, Bailey Flanigan. And Bailey’s mother, I assume. We’re glad you’re here.”
    Bailey had the sense this was how Francesca always introduced the newest cast members, because the guys and girls smiled and waved, and there were a few who called out, “Hi, Bailey … glad you’re here.” Or some other such thing.
    She returned the waves, and so did her mom.
    As soon as the cast turned back to Francesca, the director dropped the friendly persona and scowled at each of them, her eyes moving over them the way they had over the hundred girls who had tried out with Bailey. “Now … I was at the show over the weekend … I know, I know … I didn’t tell you I’d be there. But when you sang “Welcome to the Sixties,” I felt like you wanted me to leave!” her voice boomed through the rehearsal space. “I absolutely did not feel welcome, because none of you — that’s right none of you — looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
    Bailey smothered a smile behind her hand. Her friend Tim Reed was dating a girl who used to be in the
Hairspray
cast, and a few months ago when Bailey had auditioned, the girl had warned her. Francesca was very, very difficult to work for. But Bailey liked that she demanded perfection. How many directors would tell a cast of professional singers and dancers that they hadn’t looked like they were enjoying themselves? Not many, Bailey figured. That’s what set Francesca apart from the others. And it was why she was grateful she’d be starting her Broadway career here under the critical but careful hand of Ms. Tilly.
    The director was explaining that the number should be so fun, people will have to hold back from jumping into the aislesand dancing along. “That’s the sort of welcome we want people to feel when they watch this number. Like they’ve just been reintroduced into the era of the sixties, and they wish with every heartbeat they could get on stage and join you.”
    They watched for nearly an hour, and Bailey soaked in every correction, every bit of direction Francesca gave them. Being here was good. She would come to her first rehearsal that much more prepared. Finally, Bailey’s mom gave her a gentle nudge, and Bailey stood. The driver would be waiting. Besides, it was time to meet her new landlords, Bob and Betty Keller. Bailey followed her mother to the car, which was already waiting out front.
    “That was amazing.” Her mom’s look was part exhaustion, part nervousness. “I can’t imagine performing in front of her.”
    “It’ll be fun.” Bailey