If the time I have to wait is any indication, the number is higher than I would’ve imagined.

After being sent to a crowded waiting room, we’re soon told that they’ll be bringing us out to the main stage in batches of ten, and at least a handful of groups are taken to the stage before my name is called.

I quickly follow the PA taking us through the labyrinth of hallways to the left wing, and then I gasp when I walk onto the stage.

I’m really doing this. This is it.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The guys next to me looks around, as if he too is awestruck by it. I can only nod in agreement.

I never imagined the theater could look better than how it does from the outside, but I was wrong. The interior is grandiose. Magnificent.

It takes enormous effort to peel my eyes off the ornate walls to focus on the person giving us instructions before us. The impressiveness of this place gives even Emily Eddings’s commanding presence a run for its money.

She is the most powerful director I’ve ever auditioned for. She’s of the rare breed of directors who can easily navigate both theater and film lanes.

And even if you’re not a theater geek and have never heard of her, just by looking at her small yet imposing figure, you’d know she’s important. At 5’2”, she still makes herself noticed in any room she walks in. Her long blonde hair is loose, curtain bangs framing her white face. She’s wearing a dark purple jumpsuit that few people could pull off as well as she does.

I’m sucked into her words, paying close attention to the directions, thinking of the best strategy for this audition as she lets us know how it’s going to work. A few of the people around me are so lost I have to wonder if they’ve ever been in a play in their lives. At some point, it almost feels like watching an elementary school production.

They give us a ballroom scene to play, which I was not expecting. But I have some dance training, so I think I can hold my own.

“We’re good,” Emily calls from the front row of chairs, where she’s watching with two other people flanking her. I wonder if the guy on her left is the one who was talking to her outside, but I can’t be sure. She calls a bunch of names before saying, “Thank you so much for coming in. Right now, we’ll be moving forward without you guys, but I really appreciate you being here.”

I’m relieved my name was not among those. Emily is really nice to everyone she lets go, even when they clearly have no idea what they’re doing. It’s almost like she’s careful not to ruin anyone’s dream, whatever they may be.

After they leave the stage, it’s just me and two other actors standing in front of the director and her crew. Before saying anything else, Emily turns to the woman on her right and asks her something. They whisper back and forth for a while, and when she turns her attention back to the stage, her eyes lock on mine.

I take a deep breath, feeling my entire body tense. My stomach is in knots. I didn’t have anything to eat before this, but suddenly my stomach feels heavy as lead. I fold and refold my hands together behind my body, my nails digging into my palm to keep my entire body from trembling. I’m on the edge of a precipice, and Emily is the one holding the rope.

“Matthew and Amy,” she finally says looking at the two actors to my right. I’ve known from the beginning that they would be good, that they had some experience with this. I could tell by their posture. I know the news is good for them before Emily says the words. “We want both of you for a few scenes, including the ballroom. Are you okay with that?”

I don’t need to look at them to know they’re nodding enthusiastically and thanking her for the opportunity. She tells them they’ll be in touch, and the two actors walk out of the stage, leaving me alone to watch Emily scribble something on the paper in front of her.

“Luiza,” she says, looking up at me. Her head cocks to the side as if studying me, eyes sweeping over my body, head to toe. Being the sole focus of her attention is wildly unnerving. Her ocean blue eyes seem to be looking right through me, searching for something. If I knew what it was, I could try to show it to her, bring it to the surface and present it to her on a silver platter. Here, I can be whoever and whatever you need for this play. But I have no idea what she’s looking for.

All I can do is wait. And hope.

“We can’t use you as an extra. We already have everyone we need,” she says. I nod in understanding, trying my best not to let disappointment take over my face, but it’s hard to school my expression to remain calm.

This is it.

Eu não sirvo nem para figurante.

The voice in my head telling me I’m not good enough even to be an extra in the play is so loud it’s startling. It’s so loud, I almost miss what Emily says next.

“But we want you to audition for Princess Melina.”

I look up.

What?

I’m not sure if I voiced the question or she could read it in my face, but Emily says it again, “We’re still looking for our princess, and we think you might be a good fit.”

The first thought that comes to my mind is that this is a prank. And I hate that this happens, but I can’t help it. In a fraction of a second, my brain forges a whole scenario. Someone set this up to prank me, and in a second, cameras will show up and someone will laugh at me with a mic in front of my face asking how I feel about having fallen for it.

But when I look around, I don’t see any cameras. All I see is three pairs of expectant eyes in front of me, and to my right, Matthew and Amy in the wings, smiling and applauding me.

When I don’t say anything because apparently I’ve lost the ability to speak, Emily asks me, “Do you want to audition for the role of the princess?”