Mac’s voice tears me from my reverie. “Mr. Parker, you’ll be up first this time.”
Damn. I’d hope to be last again, but it was probably wishful thinking.
“Then Kali, Sutton, and Parker,” he continues, reading from his phone. “Filming order was randomly assigned and each of you will read a unique script.”
I pay close attention as he explains the process, doing my best to ignore the cameraman and producer that are prepping the stage. But the longer Mac’s explanation drags on, the more time I have to think about what comes next.
The other candidates will be watching. Probably critiquing my performance and identifying opportunities for improvement. Improvements they can apply to their own broadcasts.
At least they won’t be reading the same script.
We’re all going in blind on that front.
When Mac finishes, I take the stage, a fine sheen of sweat coating my skin as I settle in behind the desk. The lights are brighter and hotter than those in the Waverly studio, but that’s probably just nerves.
I stare at the blank teleprompter. Excellent vision will be an asset today, so at least I have one thing going for me.
The studio is dark beyond the set and I can’t see the faces of my classmates—no, my competitors—but it’s just as well. I need to put them out of my mind and focus on my performance.
The producer clips a mic to my shirt and we do a sound check and then it’s showtime.
My gut twists like a cyclone, and I realize I’m tapping my fingers on the surface of the glossy desk.
Calm the fuck down.
Easier said than done. I have too much riding on this broadcast. On the internship.
But I need to get out of my head and on the field.
It’s no different from football.
And right now, the only person standing in my way is me.
I square my shoulders and do a quick breathing exercise, inhaling for four and exhaling for six.
I’ve got this.
“Are you ready, Mr. Parker?”
I nod and the cameraman counts it down.
Three. Two. One.
The teleprompter rolls and I read the intro, striving for energetic, but not douchey.
“Good morning, sports fans. I’m DJ Parker and today I’m filling in for your regular host, Don ‘The Grisly’ Barringer.”
Talk about a trip. The Grisly is an NFL legend and I’m sitting in his chair. My ass is on the same leather cushion he sits on week in and week out. It’s a dream come true.
Sure, my broadcast will only be seen by a handful of people, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here now, just like I’ve imagined so many times.
Adrenaline surges through my veins.
I’m actually filming a Sports Stream broadcast.
Unreal.
The next line appears on the teleprompter.
