This has been the longest, most slow-moving day of my life. Longer and slower than the car ride from my house in Buffalo to Pulitzer's. Longer and slower than even the lines at Disneyland.

But somehow, I've made it.

Now, I'm sitting outside the drama classroom, reading over my sheet music and trying to ignore the distracting tinkling of piano keys floating through the doors. That's especially hard to do when you're so nervous you're actually, physically shaking, and every noise around you is amplified.

Suddenly, the double doors burst open and Dutchy strides out, a huge smile plastered on his face. Medda's assistant, a small, pretty girl named Caroline who I recognize from English, scurries out behind him. She skims down the list on her clipboard. "Daniel Weinberg?"

I freeze and stare up at her. Dutchy nudges me with his foot and I spring up with surprise. "Break a leg, Specs," he says, shoving me through the doors.

Honestly, I really hope I do. Then I wouldn't have to do this play.

I walk out of the drama room, a blank stare on my face. I was the last audition of the day, so Medda follows me out. "Okay, boys," she says, smiling that famous smile. "You were the final auditions, so expect the cast list up at lunch tomorrow."

Everyone scatters, voiced erupting in a cacophony of conversation.

Finally exhaling, I lean against the wall. Dutchy laughs at me. "You okay?"

I shrug. "That was the single most nerve-wracking event of my life." I shove my sheet music into my backpack in disgust. "I don't think I did very well." Sulking, I look up and down the hallway.

"I bet you did great," he says. "Come on, Pouty McPouter-face. I'll buy you a coffee."

It's raining outside, so rather than go out to the courtyard like we normally would, we sit in the cafeteria with our coffee and discuss our auditions. Dutchy is pretty confident about being cast in a decent role, while I am confident that I am going to be the laughing stock of the drama department for years to come.

"Specs, it's not going to be that bad. If you're in the chorus, no one will really see you anyway." He drinks his coffee, leaning against the window. "Besides, it's fun to do a musical. You get to bond with people over the complete mental and physical agony you're in."

"But people will see me. And my mom will come, and she'll stand up in the audience and scream, 'That's my boy! Everybody look at my baby!'"

"Aww, but it'll be cute."

"Oi vey." I shake my head, then mentally kick myself for saying the two words I promised myself I would never utter in my life. "Oh, my God. Dutchy, please shoot me if I ever say that again."

He laughs. "Will do."

The day passes in a blur of nerves and confusion. I can't sleep most of the night, and drag through my first classes in the morning before lunch. As I walk out of math, Dutchy grabs me by the arm and drags me to the performing arts wing.

"Cast list is up!" He says excitedly as we barrel through the halls. "We gotta check it out!"

There's a small crowd gathered around the bulletin board outside the drama room. Dutchy comes to a halt right in front of the male cast list.

I skim my eyes down it.

Joseph Pulitzer School for Artistically Gifted Youth

Spring Musical 2006: Bye Bye Birdie

Male Cast List

Conrad Birdie: Jack Kelly

Albert Peterson: Johannes Visser

I almost squeal with joy as Dutchy does. This is the part he wanted most. I'm so excited for him. And of course, Jack is Conrad Birdie. It only makes sense, what with his rock-star personality already built in.

Harry MacAfee: Anthony Higgins

Randolph MacAfee: Nathaniel Conlon

Pah! Spot's name is Nathaniel? Oh, just wait until I get the opportunity to pull that one out.

Hugo Peabody: Daniel Weinberg

Boy, I feel sorry for that son of a – what! I nearly faint. I actually got cast. And not just as part of the chorus. As a semi-important character. How the hell did that happen?

"Way to go, Specs!" Dutchy slaps me on the back. "Man, this play is going to rock."

David is standing with Jack, grinning. "Wow, Specs, I didn't even think you were serious about this. Hugo! That's pretty good."

I blink. This... is horrible.

"Oh, and by the way, Specs," Racetrack adds with a sly grin, "you might have to kiss a girl."

Okay. Eww.