Reading Standards for Literature > Building Reading Stamina and Comprehension (CCSS.RL.6.10) Practice Test

On the day cast lists went up, the hallway reverberated like a drum. I scanned the paper so fast the letters blurred, searching for my name beside "Lead." It wasn't there. Instead: Stage Manager—Maya.

The word landed heavy. I had practiced lines with the audacity of a spotlight. Now I was to be the one taping X marks and clicking cues. Mr. Ortiz said he'd chosen "impartial eyes" to keep the show steady. "A stage manager needs someone meticulous—someone who notices what others miss," he added, glancing at my color-coded binder.

At first, my pride bristled. Was this a consolation prize? But during rehearsal, I saw how chaos tried to sneak in. A prop vanished, a costume hem unraveled, and nerves tangled like headphones. I made lists, solved puzzles, and steadied voices with a quiet "You've got this." When the lead froze, I whispered the line through the headset; the scene breathed again.

On opening night, I stood in the dark, where the audience couldn't see me but the play depended on me. The actors bowed. I didn't. Yet when the applause swelled, I felt it reach the booth—like a secret handshake. Maybe fairness wasn't getting the spotlight; maybe it was being trusted with the light itself.

On the day cast lists went up, the hallway reverberated like a drum. I scanned the paper so fast the letters blurred, searching for my name beside "Lead." It wasn't there. Instead: Stage Manager—Maya.

The word landed heavy. I had practiced lines with the audacity of a spotlight. Now I was to be the one taping X marks and clicking cues. Mr. Ortiz said he'd chosen "impartial eyes" to keep the show steady. "A stage manager needs someone meticulous—someone who notices what others miss," he added, glancing at my color-coded binder.

At first, my pride bristled. Was this a consolation prize? But during rehearsal, I saw how chaos tried to sneak in. A prop vanished, a costume hem unraveled, and nerves tangled like headphones. I made lists, solved puzzles, and steadied voices with a quiet "You've got this." When the lead froze, I whispered the line through the headset; the scene breathed again.

On opening night, I stood in the dark, where the audience couldn't see me but the play depended on me. The actors bowed. I didn't. Yet when the applause swelled, I felt it reach the booth—like a secret handshake. Maybe fairness wasn't getting the spotlight; maybe it was being trusted with the light itself.