Dylan's POV

The clank of forks and knives scraping across near empty plates filled my dining room. A brief silence had settled across the room as conversation came to an end, a comfortable quiet that only arose in the presence of family. I glanced quickly at the clock on the wall, feeling more and more restless as the small hands moved forward.

It was 6:19 pm. My manager had said that the final cast list would be released before 7pm, and as time drew on, worry settled on my shoulders and doubt grew in my stomach. I stab my knife into my chicken cutlets, eyes flicking to the clock again.

"You have time, Dylan. Emma said she would call as soon as she got news," my sister, Julia, spoke next to me. I glanced at her, only to see her brown eyes staring back.

"I know...I just, I really wanted this role...," I trailed quietly. My family didn't respond, and unspoken nerves quivered in the air. Though no one said it aloud, they had been as equally excited about my recent audition as myself. With this in mind, I decided to voice my worries aloud. "If I had gotten the part, Emma would have called already."

"You never know, honey. She may be saving the good news..." I glanced at my grimacing mother, shooting her a look of you've got to be kidding me. She knew as well as I did that my chances were slim to begin with.

"Or she could be dreading telling me that I messed up another audition," I bitterly reply, again stabbing my chicken angrily.

"Well there's no point taking it on your pour defenseless chicken breast," my father said pointedly, gesturing to my impaled meal.

I sighed, placing down my knife and looking to see that the clock now read 6:38. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be," I muttered.

My sister grumbled under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, "such a drama queen" before grabbing her empty plate and bringing it into the kitchen.

I rose to my feet and started to clean off the dinner table as well. My parents remained seated at one end, while Julia returned to grab their plates.

I knew my parents were both watching as I grabbed an empty glass off the table. I turned to them, my fingers gripping the cup tighter than necessary. My voice is slightly strained as I start to say, "Stop looking at me like I'm a kicked pup--"

I'm cut off by a familiar ringtone blaring in my pocket. My eyes grow to the size of saucers and I freeze, barely registering the words of "I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie World..." that begin to echo throughout the room.

"Answer it, Dylan!" My sister reminds, excitement evident in her eyes.

With the hand that doesn't hold the glass, I reach into my back pocket and grab hold of my phone. Shakily, I pull it out, staring at the contact name for a split second before sliding my finger across the green 'answer call' button.

The line is silent at first, then quietly, I hear Emma's voice, garbled through the cellphone. "Dylan?"

I realize I haven't said anything yet, and quickly choke out some weird animal sound to alert her that I'm listening.

"Umm...you okay?" Emma questions, clearly noticing my nerves.

I nod, before remembering she can't see me. "Ye--um, yeah, great, never been better."

Emma's silent for a second. "Wes Ball called." Quiet, then, "I'm sorry, Dylan," and though she is my manager and must remain professional, I still hear sadness in her voice. I close my eyes, finally feeling my hopes crash down like a fallen tower around me, each individual brick hitting my body and making the situation much more painful.

I hear a scrape of chairs and then feel two bodies right next to me. My mother cutches my arm, attempting to comfort me. Her nails dig into my muscle, and the simple act alone shows me she is as just as upset as I am, even though I haven't confirmed anything to her yet. My dad makes no noise, not even a corny joke to lighten the atmosphere, and I know he has already assumed what Emma's news could be.

Emma speaks up quietly again. "I'm sorry...for making you wait so long...to let you know you got the part!"

My eyes fly open. The glass falls from my hand, breaking to pieces on the floor, like all my worries shattering with the 8 magical words. I don't register my mother scolding me or my sister running to the kitchen to get something to clean the broken glass. My ears start to buzz, and I see my dad's mouth forming words, but hear no sound come out.

Emma is saying something again, likely a squeal of excitement, but god knows what, as the only thing I hear, the only thing I feel, is you got the part.

My mouth hangs ajar, and I must look pretty goddamn stupid as my family bustles around me. I stand there, shocked beyond belief, because this couldn't be happening. I couldn't have gotten the part I had dreamed about.

But it was happening.

My mom now stands in front of me, searching my tear-filled eyes, and she's saying something again. I hand my phone to her, and she listens to Emma speak before her mouth falls open too, mirroring my expression.

Then she's actually crying, but she's not paralyzed like I am; she's shouting, "He did it! Dylan got the part!" And then my sister is screaming and my dad is clapping me on the back and my dog is barking as everyone causes commotion, and I still stand there, disbelieving that something like this could happen to a nobody like me.

My sister is suddenly in front of me, smiling so bright the sun was put to shame. She's shaking me, and I finally dimly hear her shout, "You're going to be Thomas in the Maze Runner Trilogy!"

And then I'm broken from my shock, and I'm falling to the ground, sobbing tears of relief, joy, and happiness.

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