Chapter 1: Auditions

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This is book two of a series. Book one is MY FOSTER MOM WANTS A DAUGHTER. If you haven't read it already, start there.

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Angelo's audition at the Arts School was set for two in the afternoon on Monday. In last-minute preparation, he rehearsed Hamlet's "To Be Or Not To Be" speech several more times Sunday night, each time finding himself more dissatisfied with how he was doing it.

Mary Elizabeth thought he'd done fine. Angelo knew the lines, it was obvious since he never missed a word during his repeated speeches.

"Mommy, I can't do this," he said after he recited the scene for the fourth time. "It doesn't feel right."

"What are you saying, sweetie? It sounded fine. You haven't missed a word."

"I feel I'm forcing my voice. It doesn't feel natural."

"It sounds fine, just like Hamlet is supposed to sound. Like a confused, crazed young man."

"That's it! I'm trying to sound like a man. It just doesn't sound right to me. I think I should be reading Ophelia's lines."

"Don't be silly," Mary Elizabeth said. "I know you've been talking like a girl so much in the last few weeks. It must be hard to change back, but you sounded fine. I could hardly hear any of that girlish lilt in your voice."

"Oh mommy, that's just it. I want to sound like a girl. I don't want to be a boy again."

"Well, you are now, again, and you know why. Miss Simms was pretty adamant about you attending school as a boy. You don't want her supervisor finding out and taking you from me, do you? I know I don't. Now read your lines just like you have been practicing, and you'll do okay in the audition, I'm sure." Mary Elizabeth hugged the boy and added, "Get ready for bed. You should get your rest."

"Ok, mummy, but can I wear the pink nightie? Just tonight?"

"No, darling, you know it's better if you're in all boy's stuff. Put on those Denver Bronco jammies I bought for you."

"Mommy. Just for tonite. Can't I wear the pink nightie? Can I, please? Just once more. I'll wear those. boy pajamas tomorrow night, I promise."

Mary Elizabeth relented, she felt sorry for him and decided to let him enjoy one more night. "Fine, just this once," Then, on an impulse, she added, "Let's put your hair up for tonight, too. I love working on your hair."

"Mom, I love you so much."

Mary Elizabeth knew she was probably wrong to provide even these few hours of girl time to Angelo. She had to continue to bring him back into boyhood if she wanted to keep him as her foster child.

When she saw the sparkle in his eyes as she braided his hair and treated him like a teenaged girl once again, she was elated.

"Look how pretty we are," he said, directing her attention to the mirror over the dresser. "Mom and daughter."

Mary Elizabeth kissed him lightly on the lips, twirled a finger through his long hair and let her hand follow down his delicate slender arm, full in the knowledge that Angelo would never succeed in being a boy, as hard as they might try. Yet, she knew they had to follow through on making him a boy. At least to all outward appearances, and that would require all the acting ability Angelo had. And well, it was apparent he had plenty.

*****

The Amanda Wilmington School of the Arts had been founded some 15 years earlier as part of the big city school system. It had been the genius of Ms. Wilmington that made it possible.

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