Chapter 28
699 Words
The event was coming to an end. All the performers had done their job, and did it well.
The models were doing their final showcase of some avant-garde fashion. The solo dancers were called back on stage and performed along to the music as the models strutted the runway.
There he was again. In the center-back. Glancing at us from time to time.
Emma sank in her seat, visibly upset.
Finally, the part we all awaited.
There was no doubt in my mind. So did the judges. Bayhill came in second. Saint Mary’s came third. When it was time to announce the champion, we closed our eyes, gripping each other’s hands tightly.
This was the thin line between James proceeding to sophomore or not.
“Our solo dance champion is none other than the Maybeck Peckers’ very own, James Tucker!”
As soon as we heard our school name being called, we jumped in triumph.
Emma’s friend jumped in glee, too. Before Emma pulled her back down to her seat, which she obliged hesitantly.
“I knew you could do it, you ass!” Charles shouted, which earned a withering glare from the principal.
“Do you have any words for the audience who cheered you on, and the judges who voted for you to win with no doubt?” The host asks, handing James the mic.
“I’d like to thank my parents who aren’t with her tonight due to unfortunate events. Ma, Pa, this one and all the other trophies I’ve won at home, they’re all for you.”
What a humble-brag.
“To the judges, I’d like to thank your belief in me. And to my friends, Charles, Beatrice, Charlotte, and Ross, who’s on her way to Brazil now, you guys mean so much to me.” He held two fingers to his chest and kissed them, raising them above his head, which was a real cocky move, for me, at least.
We laugh it off after waving our hands uncontrollably, trying to get the media’s camera to turn towards us.
Yes, this was locally televised.
Just then, the judge who sat in the center of the long table shot up and demanded the mic from the host.
“Can we have a clear picture of Mr. Tucker and the young lady from the audience?” She turns around, our eyes meet, and my spirits shot terrified. The audience shouts in support.
She was an old lady. White hair, Betty White feels.
“What’s the young lady’s name?” The host returns to James, and he whispers in return.
Beatrice stared at me, waiting for my reaction.
I was frozen in my seat, clamped up.
I have had stage fright for the past decade. Every time I was asked to perform or present in front, I’d shut close like a clam. I wasn’t asked to do it this time. But this was too big of a crowd for me to face.
“Hey, Char, they’re calling you up on the stage,” Charles called to my attention. But I don’t respond. I was fighting my nerves. I couldn’t even feel my legs.
“Charlotte Smith, is it? Charlotte, can we call you up on the stage for a picture with the Champion, or your champion, rather,” The host teased.
It was beyond horrifying.
The crowd began to chant my name alone, trying to force me on the stage.
“I-I can’t,” I stuttered to tell B and Charles. She laughs at my reaction.
“Oh, come on. He’s your friend. Just go up there for a quick picture.” She nudges her.
“Yeah, you did say there’s completely nothing between you, right? I bet it’s just like taking a picture with your close friend. Besides, we do this after every one of his performances. The only difference this time is that the whole gym is watching you do it.” Charles grins in full support.
I smile with gritty teeth, showing my obvious nervousness.
“There’s nothing on your teeth,” Bea laughs, pulling me off my seat.
The host then awaited me on the stairs in front of the stage.
Oh, forker.
- Writer
