"Janie Myers & Tess Collins," the sign reads. A man dressed in a black suit holds it up alongside other people, presumably other drivers, and their signs by the exit of LAX.

"Wow," Mom says, "Tara really went all out."

Tara Lyons planned all of this for us. As her first unofficial client, she said that she wants to treat me and show me how wonderful LA can be.

Mom approaches the man with her hand extended. "Hello, I'm Tess Collins, and this is my daughter Janie Myers."

He smiles and lowers the sign, taking my mom's hand to shake it. "Welcome to Los Angeles. Ms. Lyons has given me instructions to bring you to her home."

"Awesome," I say, a bit louder than I intended to. But it's true: This is all so awesome and surreal. I'm in LA? And a celebrity I watched on TV for years is sending a driver to pick me up at the airport? And then I am going to her house? It's all too much to be real, except that it is.

We follow the driver out to a limousine and hop in the back seat. As soon as I'm in the back, I hear, "Surprise!"

Moth, Patti, and Thatcher are all waiting for us in the back with sparkling cider in flute glasses.

I clutch my chest with shock before scooting down the seat to hold Thatcher for the first time in a week and a half. I know it doesn't seem long, but for me, it's felt like an eternity. He is slightly more tanned from the sun out here, I suppose, but he still feels and smells like home. Strange thing to notice a smell, but it takes me back to nights in the shed, when the world wasn't any bigger than the four walls around us.

He kisses the top of my head and whispers that he's missed me. If my mom weren't here, I'd meet his eyes and fully make out with him, but she is and I'd rather die than make out with my boyfriend right in front of my mom.

Instead, I pull myself away from Thatcher to acknowledge my other friends in the limo and squeal, "You surprised me!"

"Yeah, that was the point," Moth says with a smirk.

"Off to Tara Lyon's house now," Patti sort of sings, lifting her glass. "Cheers to the misfits reuniting in LA."

"Cheers," we say in unison.

Then, true, to Mom's fashion, she shouts, "Stop... this is non-alcoholic, right?"

Patti's eyes go wide and her face becomes stern. "Yes, Ms. Collins, of course, I would never bring alcohol into a car filled with minors. This is sparkling apple cider. Is that okay?"

Mom smiles. "Yes, okay, good. Cheers."

The limo pulls out of the airport pick up lane and onto the freeways and streets of Los Angeles, the biggest city I've ever been to in my life. Instead of looking at the sights on our way, Patti utilizes the time with me by coaching me on what she knows about the script and the character I'm auditioning for.

The character's name is Selene, and she's supposed to be sixteen-years-old.

She is cautious, because she is shy.

She used to like the character Moth will be playing, named Blake.

To get Blake to notice her, Selene started talking more to one of her friends named Randall, who Thatcher is playing.

Meanwhile, Blake falls in love with Selene's friend Clara, who Patti is playing.

As Selene realizes Blake may be out of reach, she apparently gives up and stops talking to Randall and Clara, when she realizes she may have real feelings for Randall.

She's somehow shy again with Randall after realizing this, but in the end, they get together, just as Clara and Blake end up getting together.

The movie is a compilation of teenager's stories, so there are other arcs happening as well, but this storyline is focused on the three friends, Clara, Selene, and Randall, and how Blake sort of interrupts the friendships.

It's apparently a story of friendship and young love and how things change as teenagers grow up. Sounds like the story of my life, I think. Minus all the specific details, since, you know, I'm not in love with Moth.

The limo slows down at a large gate. The driver presses a button just outside the gate, and then it opens, allowing him to drive down to the house. Well, not house, mansion. We pull into a driveway with a four car garage. The outside of the home looks like it was built in a Spanish style, but with some Italian flair, like a fountain in the center of the walkway leading from the driveway to the wooden front door.

"We're here," the driver says as the partition to his cab lowers. Mom opens the door and we all scoot out one at a time.

We are at Tara Lyons's house.

The large, light-colored wood door at the front of the house opens and out walks Tara Lyons, her long hair up in a messy bun. She's wearing casual shorts, a loose t-shirt, and sneakers that definitely cost more than the limo ride did.

"Hello, hello," she says, coming down the walkway. "Where's my wonderful new client?"

I step forward and see that Tara's arms are open for a hug. After a few steps to meet her, it's like no time has passed and we are back on the A Call from Midnight set with her as my mentor. I forgot how nice it is to know someone who has been through the same things I have believes that I can achieve the same success they have.

"Are you ready, girl?" she asks, pulling away. "'Cause we have a lot of practicing and memorizing to do before tomorrow's audition."

"Memorizing?" I ask.

"Yes, I let the casting directors know you can't have any cold reads, so we're going to memorize everything and let them see you mean business." She smiles at me and pats my back. "You're going to knock it out of the park, right?"

I remember what she told me about confidence. I don't want to let her down.

I take a deep breath, like Moth taught me to. "Yes."

Tara shows Mom to our room to set our stuff down, and tells the misfits to hang out by her pool while she and I practice. Apparently she's planned something for us kids to do later, but she won't tell.

"It'll be your surprise for working hard today," she says, as we walk through her immaculately clean, white-tiled home to her office.

"More than getting picked up at the airport in a limo filled with my best friends and coming to a celebrity's house."

She smiles. "Yes."

Tara's office is similar to the rest of the house, except that it's carpeted with white shag material. There's a camera set up with lights and a green screen, and I'm reminded of Sean's basement set up. I'll have to tell him how close his basement looks to Tara Lyon's office.

"This is where I practice for A Call from Midnight. I'll get the script and go over my lines with different expressions to see which ones play best on camera. I'll be filming you too, so that we can see what lands the best. Film is different from theater. Expressions can be smaller, lines can be softer, everything can be more subtle. There's a different sort of art to it, so the first few takes will probably look really extra. Don't be discouraged if they do."

She hands me a copy of the scene I'll be doing from the white, uncluttered desk in the middle of the room.

"Ready?"

Deep breath. "Ready," I reply.

***

Tara and I practice the lines of a monologue and of a two person scene for probably about an hour and a half before she even turns on the camera. At times, it's frustrating, like I can't get anything right, but the more we do it, the more she tweaks little lines here and there, the more comfortable I feel. Eventually, I know the lines, more than that--I feel them in my bones. It's a monologue about feeling like you've missed you chance. I've felt that. I've been there. The lines flow naturally when I do what Tara suggests and connect them to real memories.

"That technique will help it seem more natural as well as help you remember," she told me, and she was right.

Then we focus on the scene, with her reading the opposite parts of Randall until I have them down. Once I've memorized those, she calls in Thatcher.

"You two should practice together, because part of this audition process is on screen chemistry. You two are dating, I know, but you need to look like you're hoping to date on screen. There's a specific spark casting agents are looking for, so as best as you two can, be natural but not too confident in each other's feelings, since these characters aren't there yet."

So, you mean act as I've felt the past quarter of school? Got it.

Thatcher and I stand beside one another in front of the green screen. He's holding a script, but I'm off-book at this point. It brings a smile to my face to be a step ahead of Thatcher for once, and he smiles back at me. It's the sort of smile he'd flash at me in the shed, when he wasn't sure if he should look at me too long or not. He's in character already.

"Action," Tara instructs.

I act as though I've just run in and I'm slightly out of breath.

RANDALL: Selene, hey, what are you doing here?

SELENE: Don't get on the lift. I need to say something.

Our arc in the movie ends at a ski lodge. I have never been to one, so Tara showed me pictures so that I could imagine it in my mind.

RANDALL: Look, if you're here to apologize, it's fine. I get it. If it were in your position, I would have been upset with Clara and Blake too. Clara should have known you liked him. We all should have known.

SELENE: No. What I did was wrong. I led you on to try to get Blake's attention, and I never should have gotten you mixed up in it. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you. I'm sorry.

RANDALL: Well... thanks. I'm going to go now--

SELENE: --Wait! Please? There's something else. I am so scared to say it, but it's the truth and I need to.

RANDALL: You don't have to be shy with me. Just say it.

SELENE: When you kissed me... Randall, I realized something. I don't want Blake. I don't want to feel uncomfortable around the guy I'm dating, because I'm pretending to be something I'm not. I want... I want you. You've always been there for me, you've always had my back, you've always accepted me no matter what, you've never judged me. I want you.

RANDALL: I... normally I would be so happy to hear you say that, but... how can I trust you after everything that's happened?

SELENE: Believe me. Be my boyfriend. Give me a chance to love you. I'm out here in the middle of everything, outside of my comfort zone, begging you in front of complete strangers to love me. I've changed. Give me a chance to be the girl you thought you were dating.

This is the part in the scene where Thatcher's character steps forward in his big skis, so he sort of stomps closer to me. He takes my head in his hand, the hand that's farthest from the camera so as not to block my face.

The script tells us to kiss. It doesn't specify how. But it's as though Thatcher and I are really back in that place back when we were tiptoeing around our feelings for each other until we finally faced them and kissed at Snowball. I can almost hear the song that was playing when it happened.

Thatcher leans down, like he did at the dance.

He kisses my cheek, and before he can move, I kiss his cheek back.

He scans my face--Selene's face to be sure she is telling the truth--and gives me a peck on the lips.

I smile.

Then, we kiss. The kiss I wanted to give him in the car, but didn't want to give him in front of my mom.

Tara yells, "Cut!"

We keep going. This isn't Selene and Randall anymore, we are back to ourselves, and we've missed each other.

"Alright you two, cut," Tara repeats.

We break away from each other and laugh.

"Sorry," I tell her, but when I look at her, I can see her eyes are glassy. "What's wrong?"

Tara smiles. "That was fucking good."

We practice a few little moments, including the kiss, which Tara tells us to definitely keep in the same way we did it today, and then it's time for the surprise.

The misfits and I are being treated to a night on the town, compliments of Tara. The limo driver, apparently Tara's personal driver, Bill is going to take us to all the sights, and then drop us off at dinner. The best part? Apparently Mom has already approved.

We get in the limo and it's like old times. We are back to exactly how we were last year. We take pictures with Hollywood stars on the Walk of Fame, we drive past celebrity homes, we see the Hollywood sign, we Instagram all of it, of course, laughing the entire time.

Finally, right around the time our stomachs start rumbling anyways, Bill drops us off at a West Hollywood restaurant called Delilah. It's apparently a restaurant where lots of celebrities go, according to Patti.

"When you get inside, tell them you have a reservation from Midnight," Bill tells us, and all of our faces light up.

"From midnight?" Patti squeals, and even though she's at the end of the seat, she crouches to get herself to the door and burst out of the limo first.

"I'm guessing our dinner will have something to do with A Call from Midnight," Moth says, mocking old school movie detectives with his voice.

"Who knows," Thatcher says, unconvincingly.

"You know," I reply, hitting him playfully.

He shrugs. "Let's see."

The three of us get out of the limo and follow an excited Patti to the hostess stand, where she's already sent the hostess off to guide us to our table. We continue to follow them back through a dining room that looks like it could be a 1950's vegas casino dining room or something. The walls are red and gold, and opulent chandeliers hang over tables with cozy but fancy chairs at them. The hostess guides us back to a large U-shaped booth along one of the red walls, where the entire cast of A Call from Midnight including Tara is waiting for us, like a big reunion.

"Hey," they all sort of call out to us as they scoot around the U-shape to greet us.

When Grant O'Reilly comes around to give me a hug, I just barely hold in my excitement. "Thank you," I say a little too loudly.

"For what? For the hug?" he asks, chuckling.

I nod, again, a little too vigorously.

"We are both Riversidians, we hug. Besides, it's good to see you. Tara tells me I should expect to see you much more often."

I nervously giggle at that. "Hopefully," I finally say, after a sufficiently awkward amount of time giggling and then Tara comes in to save me from my awkwardness.

"Surprised?" she asks, and Grant moves on to greeting Thatcher.

"Very, thank you."

"Don't mention it, ready to eat?"

"Very."

The group of us sit down and while the misfits and I are a little too star-struck still to fully participate in the conversation, it feels amazing to sit around listening to the on-set gossip from A Call from Midnight and knowing what the heck they're talking about, since I've been there. We order, we eat, the four of us follow along as best as we can, and at the end of the meal, Tara asks our server to get a picture of all of us.

A picture! With the whole cast! Like we're all friends! Like I belong here!

"Smile," the server sings. Then a flash.

Tara leans across the table after getting her phone back. "I'm sending this to TMZ," she says with a wink.

The day has been so perfect, and now the thought of being online or in a magazine with these celebrities is all too much. I do a little dance in my seat, a reaction I don't think I've ever had to anything, because nothing has ever been so exciting. Except dating Thatcher, of course.

"Now all that's left is to get this girl auditioned so this can happen more often, am I right?" Tara announces to the table.

That's when I wake up from the dream: I still have to audition. Just because Tara thought the scene was perfect doesn't mean the casting directors will. What if I'm not enough?

I swallow the thought for now along with a bite of coconut sorbet. It's all too delicious to be nervous yet. I'll save that for tomorrow.