Daisy Lyter's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

The audition sign-up sheet had one line left, and the senior's name sat at the top in neat blue ink. Daisy Lyter wrote her own name under it anyway. She wanted the lead in the spring musical. She had wanted it since freshman year. But that senior got cast first every single time, and Daisy still didn't know why. She didn't know what the directors even looked for. Without that, her audition on Friday was just a guess. She stared at the character list taped by the door. Bold, shy, loud, soft — which one did they want? Guess wrong and she'd walk onstage playing the wrong person. Three days left. She had no idea where to start. She found Shelby Bauman behind the auditorium, stacking folding chairs two at a time. Shelby had run crew for every show since middle school. She knew the directors better than the cast did, and she never pretended otherwise. Her orange ponytail swung as she dropped another chair on the pile. "You're auditioning," Shelby said. Not a question. "Everybody is. So?" "So I don't know what they want," Daisy said. "The senior always gets it. I want to understand how." Shelby set down a chair and looked at her. "You think it's talent. It's not. Last year a girl sang perfect and they passed on her." She wiped her hands on her jeans. "They pick whoever makes a choice and holds it. The senior walks in deciding exactly who she is. She doesn't wait for them to tell her." Daisy frowned. "So I just pick something?" "You pick something and commit," Shelby said. "They'd rather see a bold wrong choice than a safe blank one. The ones who guess and hedge, they're gone in ten seconds." She hauled up two more chairs. "That's all I know. Use it or don't." Daisy stood there while the real problem shifted under her. The question had never been what the directors wanted. It was whether she could walk in and decide before they did. The senior never flinched. Daisy flinched all the time. She went home that night and read the lead's big scene out loud in her room. Her tabby cat watched from the windowsill, tail curled, ears up. Daisy tried the lines soft. Then she tried them angry. The angry one felt wrong and alive at the same time. "That one," she told the cat. The cat blinked. She made her choice then. She'd play the lead furious, not sweet, even if the directors expected sweet. It was a risk. It might be the wrong read entirely. But it was a decision, and she'd hold it. Friday was three days off. Now she knew what she was walking in to do. She just had to be braver than she'd ever been to pull it off.