At any rate, I finally got up the will to go get my car keys and drive to the theatre. I certainly wasn’t going for him—him and that stupid girlfriend of his. I had hated Reagan in high school and I hated her now. My only consolation was that Reagan had never read with him. See? I wanted to shout triumphantly at her. Even a director who’s never seen us thinks _ we _ look better together then you and him. Only part of the thought made it to my consciousness as I drove slowly to the theatre. Even the director, even the director . It became my heartbeat as I arrived and slowly walked toward the glass doors and the piece of paper taped on it. He was standing alone, looking at the paper. But where was Reagan? I didn’t understand. I casually walked up and pretended to read it, though all I read, over and over, was Romeo and Juliet. I was ignoring him, he and I both knew that. But for what, I wasn’t sure yet. Ironically, he probably knew already. Ah well. I would figure it out in time.