I don’t want to drive that far, and James has never been there (who the hell has never been to Bellevue?) and it’s not like Mason can fit us all on his motorcycle so it’s public transportation for us! Bianca’s paranoid of being late so we’re on it crazy early, seven forty-five on a Saturday, which at least means it’s practically empty. Bianca yawns and folds up onto her seat and goes to sleep (I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her sit, she stands or she perches like she’s about to jump up or she collapses into these helpless little heaps) and James nudges his backpack under her head and plays with her wrist, and Mason and I swing from the bars and sing “Santa Fe” and make Bianca smile in her sleep. Please let me get through. Please let me get to a second audition. Honestly, for a second I think I don’t want to get in as much as I want this to never stop. There’s no one from my school on this bus. There’s just my little group of show-tuney people. Mason tugs me into his waist and sings the romantic part (so much as it is) of “Santa Fe”
