They chuck a tinfoil ball at me and stick their tongue out. We both double over in laughter and end up clinging to each other to keep ourselves on our feet. We wipe our tears away, halfway sad that it's all over and they ask me if I want to get one more, just for the memories. We take our costumes off, get into our street clothes, and make fun of each other in our tiny, stuffy, dark, broom closet of a dressing room. Were in between the cast of men and women. The boys have their blocked off long room, and the girls have their frilly wigs in their real deal dressing room full of mirrors. It is a little unfair of course. We got the prop room, just big enough for 3 people to fit in. and of course we are grateful that we've finally been included a little, everywhere else they don't even  consider giving us a room for ourselves. They didn't quite know what to do with us, but they put us in here. We take our money and shove our hands in our pockets and take off. They have about $28 and I only have $2. They offer to pay for me while we walk out of the roundabout and into a homey little neighborhood. Cars line the street like a lace border on a petticoat or a tablecloth. there's nowhere in the world we would rather be, even though it's just another taste of poverty we know too well from our old neighborhoods and childhood homes. It's nostalgic. It feels like we belong here. I accept their offer as we check the time and start running because we know we only have 10 minutes left.

     We run past the light blue house with the wind chimes and the flowers, past the apartments that seem more like army bunkers from the outside, and past the bashed and broken air purifier on the cracked sidewalk. We make it to our spot, and I swing the door open with a, “milady.” The cool air hits us in the face and we smile at each other while we try to figure out what batshit song is playing this time. We dance through the aisles and laugh as we make fools of ourselves. I grab a redbull from the fridge and pretend to be in an ice block as they try to shut me inside. We make our way over to the slushie machine and take the biggest cups we can find and fill them to the top with all of the flavors that won't stain our tongues. We argue over whether the crisp tart sweetness of the cherry is better than the yummy creamy smoothness of the coke flavor or not. We take our things to the counter. I put everything down on the counter and they take their money out. We make small talk and invite everyone we can to come see us during our big break, “the peak of our career” we say. We learn about them and they learn about us. The woman behind the counter works 12-12 hour shifts, she wishes she could see us perform though. I feel as if i know her, she seems like more of my grandma than my actual grandmother. I love her immediately. She calls us “sugar” as we walk and wave out of the little shop. We get to see a glimpse of life outside of our town, outside of our lives, outside of the little bubbles our parents put us in, for once we finally feel like us.

     In between scenes we do quick costume changes and gag over how gross our gloves are. We try to keep quiet as we bump into each other, trying to get our pants on. I ask them if i should wear the belt with the big cowboy buckle, they say yes but i decide against it since i don't want to draw too much attention. We make fun of each other’s middle schools and pretend to kiss backstage before we go on. I hear my queue, they hear theirs, we slowly walk out. staggered.  Hands behind our backs, absolutely beaming. We sit. We reveal our hands. We sway. We don't need to remember to smile. This is what makes us happy, this is what makes us cry in front of other people, this is what makes us feel grounded, human.

     How many times have we sat in this room together? Last year I was young, not knowing where to sit or who to talk to. This place, these people adopted me. They saw me and made room for me, they let me into their space and let me make a home of it. This year I feel older,the newbies hold my hand and cry into my chest. I know what they feel all too well. They found their home, I know what that feels like. They are realizing that they belong somewhere, that there are people who will love them for who they are, there is room for them. I see myself in her, I see my old self. She is finding herself and she's realizing that people care about her finally. And she deserves that. She didn't think she did until now. The song reminds her of home. This home. On this stage with these people. It could be months later and they will still be there for her. She is finding in the lyrics that everyone is crying along with her. The guitar starts and her body locks, clinging to me. She can feel it all slipping away too fast. She will see it all again soon.

     We lay on the floor together, we found ourselves. We listen and I hold her as she cries into me, and they hold my hand so tight I can feel their blood pumping. The song ends. There is silence. We take a deep breath and let it out into the air. It's over for now, but the feeling will linger forever.