3:30: Ensembles are over. I go back to the Upper School to start homework, and by “start homework,” I mean browse SJS Confessions for 45 minutes.
4:30: Homework still not started, but too late now. Miranda Hurtado-Ramos and I hike to Caven to head out in search of food. #GetatmeCentralMarket
4:55: The two Intermediate Caprice classes are supposed to meet at 5 p.m. to run our first number, but it’s t-minus five minutes, and the cash register lines are like something out of a nightmare.
5:02: Miranda and I pull out of the Central Market parking lot. I have officially sacrificed pride and punctuality for pita chips.
5:07: So late.
5:09: Whoops. No early rehearsal after all. So early.
5:15: The dressing room is already baking hot from the mirror lights. In the corner, Sophie Gershenwald, resident Lash Master, is helping Mackenzie Mott put her false eyelashes on.
5:30: I begin the process of turning my face into another face. Stage makeup is basically just a form of black magic.
5:35: Five minutes in, and already I have foundation all over my shirt. It’s a talent.
5:40: Terpsichore members start coming in and putting on their makeup with astonishing skill. Watching them makes me feel self-conscious about my own cosmetic skills, so I hide in a corner and pretend to know how to use lip liner.
5:42 Elizabeth Elrod patiently explains to Miranda that white eyeliner doesn’t work. Like, at all.
5:53: Ms. Arizpe pokes her head in and asks with only a little panic in her voice if anyone has seen Rod Ojeda. No one has.
5:55: All groups are in costume, and the dance teachers call us into the house to give us a pep talk. The subzero temperatures of the auditorium are only a little distracting.
6:02: Showtime. Terpsichore has the first number.
6:04: The Intermediate group goes on soon. Very soon. It is just now occurring to me that anything we do will seem meager after Terpsichore. Darn their talent.
6:07: Dear god, the stage is so black. Many apologies to the person I straight up slam into.
6:10: My first number is done. I go upstairs to change costume and hair.
6:45: Intermission. I start stretching in the dance studio with Mia Saade and Hannah Curtis, both of whom are ten times more flexible than I am. Maybe their stretchiness is contagious?
6:52: Terpsichore starts their third number. I tear up, even though I’m not even watching it.
6:57: Twerk break with Julia Boyce.
7:20: Time for my second number. I wait in the wings, battling with my irrational fear of burning myself on the lights.
7:25: Fade to black. I scurry off-stage like a terrified opossum.
8:05: The run-through is done, which can only mean one thing: time to run bows like several dozen times in a row.
8:11: I have literally no idea what the finale routine is, so I just watch Zoe Margolis and Allie Robinson, who seem to have a pretty good grasp of it.
8:33: Everyone but Terpsichore is dismissed. Their work ethic makes me feel like a super lazy bum.
9:20: Home, alone in my bathroom. It takes me 20 minutes and a tub of Vaseline to remove my makeup. Is this what Taylor Swift does every night of her life?
9:45: Math. So much math.
10:10: Showers are the best.
11:00: Bed. Hopefully I’ll get enough sleep to repeat this entire process tomorrow, just for an auditorium full of judgmental peers and adults. Fantastic.