Frankie Summers was a pretty out there kind of guy. He always loved the arts, even as a kid. Painting, drawing, writing. All of it. He loved it all and always got excited when there was an assignment regarding any form of it. And it was very cool when he was like six or seven, so cute when he showed the teachers his painting of a dinosaur. Or when he drew a spaceship to the stars for his first grade teacher. Which eventually dragged him all the way to the screen of theater. Musicals, dramas, comedies... took him by the collar and dragged him down that rabbit hole of passion. And he loved it.

But now he was sixteen. And damn it, it sucked out here. If you were a guy who liked theater, boom, your gay. Which wasn't a bad thing, but when your sixteen and getting called that by a bunch of guys your age, it might as well have been a bad thing. Frankie had been pushed and pulled around for more "boyish" activities like soccer, or basketball, or football by his parents. Which mind you, they didn't support his passions for theatrical arts whatsoever. Makes him look like a pansy, said his dad.

But what did he have to say about that? He said 'screw you'. He loved this, he loved all of this. He loved the stage, the spotlight, the applause. He loved the bright people on the cast and the singing and dancing.

And this year was his year. He knew it was.