West Side Story is about to be performed by a star behind the theatre curtains. My voice is truly the focus, but I have to look the part as well. I, Jessica, am playing the main role. I believe I am made for Broadway. Ask anybody in drama club, and I intend to prove my talent at the musical. Before every performance, I center my attention on becoming the main character, which I always am, and watch the movie version to start mimicking actions.

Staring at the white dress on the clothing rack, I started questioning whether I was ready for the musical, which typically my confidence never allows.

Earlier in the week, Ally became part of the club. She claimed that her “persistent parents wanted her to get involved in this theatrical club.” I kept my eyes on her as she sat down in my drama room. Ally can be whoever she wants, but not in the room where I can be whoever I want. In this room, I am highly regarded. Ally used to be like me, a normal girl with big-time dreams, but then she changed into a girl with a lot of makeup on her face and perfect hair. I am not sure how attractive looks can make a person popular, but I intend to never change my appearance.

The lesson for the week was to perform a song by a diva. A true diva myself, I decided to sing first, knowing exactly what to do. Whitney Houston is an inspiration of mine and was perfect for the assignment. I began tearing up at the end, as any true diva would, and concluded the performance, in my opinion, strongly. I was very surprised there wasn’t any cheering, but assumed everyone was too jealous to be appreciative.

Ally decided to perform after I sat down. She was nervously twirling her hair, which is expected from a newcomer. She opened her glossed lips and her vocals were amazing. Her version of Beyonce was unfair. I admitted, to possibly cheer myself up, that my vocals could have been better.

I straightened my hair specifically for the auditions for Maria. I wanted to showcase my talent with a memorable look. I felt strange wearing a tight, black cropped top and skirt, but capturing attention was necessary. While walking to the theatre, I was confronted by a cheerleader with blonde hair like myself.

“I used to hate the way your outfit screamed clearance from some unknown brand, but I kind of like this look.”

I smiled, inwardly flattered by her compliment. I strutted into the theatre, where I found Ally twirling in a skirt as well. The rest of the drama club had seen me come in the theatre and moved off the stage, for my spotlight was too bright. The auditions began with a rendition of Tonight from West Side Story, which should boost my chances for Maria. When I finished, I walked to a seat in the theatre next to the others. I felt very confident in my performance, but no applause was given.

I could only think about whether I got the part after we were released. I never get nervous for a part in a musical, but after Ally joined the club, my life has been awful. I haven’t been doing my nightly moisturizing routine or ironing my classy dresses which need consideration. Even if I am better than her, it seemed that the others in the drama club preferred her.

I barely looked at the list of the roles in the hallway for the musical. I scratched my dry and flaky face due to the lack of moisturizing, finding my name next to Tony’s. I was stunned to find that I, Jessica, was going to play a boy.

I walked into the drama room, where I found Ally practicing her vocals for her lesser part and she stopped to talk to me.

“You are perfect for the role of Tony. All you need is your hair to be combed back.”

In true form, I looked down to find I wore a yellow jacket that day.

“I’d rather sing than change myself to become popular like you. Your appearance isn’t the same and your vocals aren’t either,” I said to her.

Maybe that white dress wouldn’t have flattered my skin tone. I looked behind the clothing rack to find the dancers were in red dresses, all in line to back up my performance as Tony. Ally wore bright blush in the overlooked middle of the cluster to at least try to be noticed. I’d prefer a yellow jacket over a red dress any day.