I stumble towards Craig. His head is to one side, and his eyes probe mine. “Are you ready?”

I feel myself nod, though I’m not ready at all. No. Then I begin to shake my head, but too late. He’s speaking his lines. He’s finished. He waits. What are my words? My mind roves frantically, but the words in my head have nothing to do with The Sound of Music. My feet are heavy; I can’t move them. In my stomach is a terrible churning...if it’s caused by butterflies, they’re butterflies with steel-toed boots. Cruel butterflies, laughing at me...can hear their voices, but not quite make out their words. Something about I’m not supposed to be here. I’m a fake... I feel so alone. Even surrounded by faces that look helpful and hopeful, I’m alone.

“Molly?” Mr. Roman’s familiar voice comes to me through it all. “Molly?”

I can’t respond. Inside me, there’s breaking, a coming apart of pieces that I haven’t even known of. I always thought there was a whole me in there. Now I know it was all glued together—only the glue isn’t working now.

I have an overwhelming urge to sob. Or throw up.