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at her some through themeal, subtle but not secret, not like he thinks she isn’t going to notice. They’re kind of a beautiful thing, I think.
    â€œSo ‘kind of a slut’ equals a lot of ex-girlfriends, I’m guessing,” Mason says.
    â€œMostly a lot of ex-non-girlfriends, but yeah, Danielle was a thing. I’m still so completely in love with her, it’s immensely depressing. We plow on, whatever.”
    â€œWhy’d you break up?”
    â€œShe moved. New York. Luckiest girl in the world. Her mom got some job. It was one of those very sad very special episodes of a sitcom.” Not the musical kind.
    â€œSo you just broke up?”
    â€œWe tried, I visited a lot, but it’s hard. I was always so damn tired because I wasn’t eating and she was working two jobs plus school and busy all the time, so we wouldn’t spend all that much time together, and we’d both get snippy and passive-aggressive about it and it was just kind of a shitshow. Anyway, madly in love six months later, it’s okay. I live around it. My best friend Rachel gave me some Smiths CDs. Fills the void.”
    â€œWe’ve never been to New York,” James says.
    â€œShit, really? You’re theater kids! It’s the capital of the world!”
    â€œAnd it’s so expensive.”
    â€œRight, yeah . . .” I try to be sensitive about this shit, seriously, I try so hard, but I mess it up all the time. The truth is that I go to this rich private school, so I’m just used to peoplehaving money to throw around. I’m used to people living in houses that are way too big for them and I guess taking impromptu trips to New York. The fact that this Brentwood thing is a scholarship is obviously awesome because hey, saving money for other stuff, always awesome, but the hard part for me would definitely be getting into Brentwood, not paying for it. It’s not that I’m not grateful for having all this damn money. Whenever I think about it, I obviously so am. It’s just that I don’t think about it very often. I need to put Post-its around reminding me or something.
    And the Brentwood thing is okay right now. I’m sitting here listening to them trade stories of their botched auditions (and they’ve all gotten through to auditions, Bianca even to second round), and they want this so much more than I do. I’m going to have a good time prepping for auditions with them, I think, but really I’m here as a cheerleader.
    Which is completely fine, because have I mentioned how I don’t really have friends right now? I will cheer to the death! But for now I tip my head back and remember Danielle and me on some rooftop looking over the Hudson, and feeling very small and so big and loving, both at the same time.
    â€œSo there are two rounds of auditions?” I ask.
    â€œThree, actually,” Mason says. “One where it’s a whole bunch of people and they have everyone sing just a few bars. I don’t even know how the hell they figure out if they’re any good just from that. And judging by some of the people whoget through to second round, maybe they kind of can’t.”
    â€œSecond round is more you,” James says. “Kind of a long time in there. They get a sense of your personality, and you bring your own music, obviously. And then third round you go to New York to meet with the freaking board of the school! That’s our goal this time around.”
    â€œThat’s my goal, like, period,” I say. “I mean, not Brentwood. Necessarily. Just New York.”
    â€œShe’s scared,” James says. “If Brentwood were in Nebraska, she’d be going at it so much harder.” He talks for Bianca a lot. At first it seemed a little controlling, I’ll be honest, but as it keeps happening I’m getting the feeling it’s more like they’re psychics and he’s just being her voice. The sad