“No, I really can’t.” I grip the edge of the counter. “There are five thousand people out there. Five thousand. I can’t do it. Tell Scotty and Coach McKibbon I died.”
“You’re being so dramatic,” Reign says, appearing behind me. “Almost as dramatic as Aiden when he saw Lyss talking to Sam the other day.”
I meet her eyes. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being realistic.” I turn to face them both. “How am I supposed to walk on that ice and sing without reliving the trauma of falling on my ass in front of everyone?”
Lyss shakes her head. “Oh, come on. You walk on a little red carpet and sing into the microphone. I bet if you ask nicely, Scotty will even walk you to it.”
I rollmy eyes, but inwardly I swoon at the thought, then frown, remembering I haven’tseenScotty since the audition, and knowing he’s only a few feet away in his own locker room makes my stomach flip a little.
“Exactly,” Reign adds, dipping some chips into her hummus. “No skates. No judges. Just you and a microphone while you sing your heart out.”
“What was I thinking? Why did I say yes to Scotty? This is insane. I should be in the stands eating nachos, not about to sing the national anthem in front of thousands of people who just want to watch hockey and probably don't even care if someone sings or if it's just the recording—”
“Breathe,” Lyss interrupts, grabbing my shoulders. “You're spiraling.”
“I'm not spiraling, I'm being realistic about my imminent public humiliation.”
“You're spiraling,” Reign confirms.
I pull away from Lyss and pace the small bathroom. “What if I forget the words? What if my voice cracks? What if I trip walking onto the ice and everyone films it and it goes viral and I become a meme?”
“You're not going to trip,” Reign says.
“You don't know that. I fell during my audition. In skates. What if I fall in regular shoes? What if that's just my thing now? Laura Conners, professional faller?”
Lyss exchanges a look with Reign.
“Okay,” Lyss says slowly. “I'm going to need you to stop talking and listen to me.”
I stop pacing.
“You,” she says, pointing at me, “are an incredible singer. I've heard you sing in the shower, in the car, doing dishes, and that one time you were drunk and serenaded Nana Lou's porch swing. Every single time, you sound amazing.”
“The porch swing doesn't count—”
“Laura.” Her voice sharpens. “You're about to perform in front of thousands of people, and instead of being excited, you're finding every possible reason to panic. Why?”
“Because—” I stop. Swallow hard. “Because what ifI'm not good enough?”
There it is. The truth I've been avoiding all week.
The audition broke something in me. Not just my confidence, but the fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, I could be more than Noelle's less impressive twin. That my voice could matter and now Scotty's given me this huge, terrifying, very public chance, and all I can think about is how badly I could fail.
Again.
Lyss moves closer. “Look, you didn’t get the part.
That doesn't mean you're not talented. It means that specific opportunity wasn't right. But this?” She gestures toward the door, toward the arena beyond. “This is different. You're not skating. You're not learning a routine in four weeks. You're just singing. The thing you've always been able to do.”
My eyes burn with the threat of tears. “What if I mess it up?”
“Then you mess it up,” Reign says simply. “And life goes on. But Laura, what if you don't? What if you go out there and remind yourself—and everyone else—exactly how incredible you are?”
I look between them. Lyss with her fierce protectiveness, Reign with her steady calm.
“Scotty believes in you,” Lyss adds quietly. “He set this whole thing up because he wanted to give you a chance to shine. Don't let your fear steal that from you.”
I take a shaky breath. Then another.
