Chapter 20
“There you are!” Stephanie’s voice dispels my anxious thoughts as she slides into the empty seat beside me, Ian trailing behind her. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
My hands fidget with the crumpled corner of Theo’s letter in my pocket. “Sorry. I wanted a good view of the entire room.”
Ian settles into the chair on my other side, the plastic creaking under his weight. “So, have you decided to perform after all?” he asks.
“No way.” He must be out of his mind if he thinks I’ll go out there. I’d probably throw up backstage and be a laughingstock for the remainder of high school.
Ian’s face falls in clear disappointment, but just the thought of performing coats my skin with cold sweat. He should know better than to expect my participation.
“Theo asked me to come,” I explain, my eyes sweeping across the auditorium once more. “Said he has something to show me.”
Stephanie’s eyebrows shoot up so fast they nearly disappear beneath her bangs. “Wait—Theo? I thought you guys weren’t talking.”
“That was before he wrote me a letter.”
Stephanie grabs my arm. “Tell me everything.”
I take a deep breath, and recount everything that’s happened since the Pearsons moved out. Then I show Stephanie the letter.
“What do you think he wants you to show you?” she asks, her eyes darting toward the stage where a string quartet is setting up.
“I don’t know.” I crane my neck again. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
Ian checks his watch and winces. “I have to go in the back to help make sure everything runs smoothly. They will kill me if the sound system acts up again.”
“Break a leg,” Stephanie says.
“You’ll be okay?” Ian asks, his gaze fixed on me.
I nod. “Go. We’re fine here.”
As Ian runs down the side aisle, Stephanie turns to me, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You never told me about this letter. How long have you been holding out on me?”
“Since yesterday.” I sink lower in my seat as the lights dim. “I wanted to process it first. You know how I get.”
“Overthinking everything until your brain explodes?” She bumps my shoulder with hers.
“Something like that.”
The principal approaches the microphone, feedback screeching before his voice booms through the auditorium as he introduces the first performers.
I don’t know what Theo wants me to see—or if he’ll even show up—but for now, I get to enjoy the show.
Student after student takes the stage, dazzling us with their talents.
There’s everything from soulful singing and impressive guitar solos to energetic dance routines and even a decent ventriloquist act—he’s no Jeff Dunham, but with practice, he might get there.
Although I would never go up there myself, the skills displayed are quite inspiring.
My favorite so far is the hula hoop dancer.
She’s this bubbly blond with pink streaks in her hair who moves like Shakira reborn, doing tricks with that hoop I didn’t think were humanly possible.
The crowd loves her, and for good reason.
Her routine is mesmerizing, all fluid motion and effortless rhythm.
Not every performance is a hit, though. Dressed more like Dracula than a magician, which sparks a few laughs from the front rows, one poor guy fails to conjure a dove or a rabbit—or whatever it is he hoped to pull out of his top hat—and my peers spring into ridicule mode, laughing and booing until he slinks offstage, looking surprisingly unbothered; instead, he examines the inside of his hat like it has a hole in the bottom.
Wish I had his mental fortitude—high school can be a brutal audience. My stomach swells with nerves just from watching him. I’d rather have my face painted like a clown again than step onto that stage.
Stephanie laser-focuses on the freshman girl with an angelic voice. “She’s going to win,” she says, clutching my arm when the girl serenades us with Ariana Grande’s One Last Time and hits every single high note. Even the hecklers in the third row clap for her.
“Not bad,” I say. “Could give Logan Humphries a run for his money.”
The meme-worthy look of disbelief Stephanie gives me draws a laugh out of me.
“Let’s not elevate her to his stratosphere just yet,” she says.
“He’s the first out of Maplewood Springs to become a famous pop singer, but who knows—maybe others will follow.
” She turns her attention back to the freshman girl, who finishes her solo to roaring applause.
Next, Paige takes the stage.
She stands with her usual air of confidence, gripping a baton.
The music starts, and she performs a flawless dance routine.
I’ll give her credit—she’s talented, and the crowd seems to agree.
But with the competition so fierce this year, I’m with Stephanie.
That freshman girl’s voice is a tough act to follow.
Still, I clap when Paige finishes. Despite her flaws and my dislike of her, performing in front of a crowd takes courage.
Between acts, I keep looking around. Still no sign of Theo. My mind drifts back to his letter. What did he mean by proving himself to me? Where is he?
The principal steps up to the mic, her voice cutting through the chatter. “We have a last-minute addition to tonight’s lineup,” she says. “Please give a warm applause for Theo Pearson.”
If I was slouching in my chair before, I’m as straight now as a rocket blasting off to space. My mouth drops when I see him.
Theo parades onto the stage dressed like a clown.
Not just any clown, but the most ridiculous one I’ve ever seen—red paint splattered all over his mouth, as if he’s devoured a strawberry jam sandwich Noah style, and his round, blue nose gleams under the stage lights, his hair a shrub of curly green chaos, and his oversized clown shoes make him trip as he takes his first steps.
He falls flat on his face, rolling once before climbing to his feet.
The entire auditorium explodes with laughter. Stephanie twists and turns next to me, clutching her stomach with both hands like she’s about to pee her pants, and I can’t hold back laughing, either. Is this what he wanted me to see?
Theo juggles—or attempts to—but the balls go flying everywhere, and one even bounces off his head.
I never saw him as a comedian, with his too-cook-for-school attitude, but maybe he should think about a career in slapstick comedy because I’m dying here.
Next, he dances, his legs flailing like an uncoordinated flamingo with those shoes on.
It’s so absurd, so out of character, that it’s impossible not to laugh.
And through it all, he smiles, as if none of it matters.
The crowd eats it up. By the time he stumbles into a series of exaggerated bowing motions, everyone stands, howling, hooting, and clapping.
“He should’ve gone first,” Stephanie says. “That’s how you break the ice.”
I can’t look away from him. He’s standing there, looking out at the crowd, completely unbothered by how crazy he looks or how many mistakes he’s made. He doesn’t care. That’s the whole point.
My chest tightens as memories flood my mind—the past two years of high school, all the times I was made fun of, Paige’s party, the night at the concert—each memory sharp like a needle prick, but something clicks: I’ve survived every single one of those moments.
Every time I thought I wouldn’t make it, I did.
One hundred percent of my worst days, I’ve survived.
And it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Theo just proved that.
I swallow my pounding heart back into place. Can I do it? Can I be as strong as he is?
Only one way to find out.
I turn to Stephanie. “I’m gonna do it.”
She looks at me, perplexed. “Do what?”
I take a deep, steadying breath. “I’m gonna go out there.”