I hurried up to the balcony to find my family. They were sitting with the Millers, of course, and we whispered our praises and critiques of the performers below. It must have been intermission at that time. Suddenly I was struck with a nervous question, "Am I performing tonight?" I ask stupidly. Mr. Miller opens the program with a nod and points to my name below Nikki Wayne. I swear under my breath and hurry away as the lights dim again and I hear the announcer introducing Nikki's act. I race to the drama room. My red silk dress is hanging on a hanger from the door; thank goodness. But what's my script? I had it all memorized weeks ago, so long ago, it had been perfect! What are my lines? The building has been re-done since I was last there and I have a hard time finding T's new office. At last I find it and find my script divided in half, put in two gold frames; it's all I can find. I pick up the frames and get into my dress. Reading over the monologue, I don't remember a thing. It doesn't make any sense and not a word of it sounds familiar. Panicing now, I hurry back to the stage. I wanted to do so well, I had rehearsed so much and everyone was talking about how good it was going to be, They had come just to see me...The auditorium is emptying. The curtain is drawn back and people are leaving. In a sweat I dart backstage and find Mrs. Tutnick. She approaches me in outrage, wiping tears from her angered eyes, her finger pointed dangerously at me, "Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was to go up there in front of everyone and announce that we can't find out closing act? Where were you?" She shouts. I cower. Stammering, I try to answer without feeling worse than I already was, "I got stage-fright, forgot all my lines...went looking for a script..." Behind me marches in Kristofer and his dad, my mother in tow. "What happened," the want to know. Things get blurry and before I know it, Mr. Miller is 'having a word' with Mrs. Tutnick. Kris says to me he wonders if it would be possible to get all the people back in the auditorium. "There's always tomorrow night," someone else suggests. Somehow things calm down. Somehow the seats refill and the lights are turned low again. I turn for comfort but find that everyone has gone back to their seats, leaving me on the stage alone. The curtain begins to pull back. Still holding the framed monologue in my hands, I look down and wonder as my blood runs shivering cold with nerves, Can I really pull this off? Thank goodness it was only a dream.