As soon as the bell rings, he walks over to my desk. “So, what do you say?”
I can’t stop smiling as I hold up the tickets. “Apology accepted.”
A sigh heaves from his lips. “It’s a date, then.”
If my pulse was slightly elevated before, it’s galloping now. “You’re on, Mr.”
We lock eyes again, and I can tell the burden of avoiding each other in school has lifted from his shoulders, too. He must have felt bad about the party, and I didn’t make things easier on him over the past few weeks.
“Talk later,” he says, taking off to his next class.
I can’t decide what’s more exciting, seeing BTS live or a date with Theo.
Slipping the tickets into my bag as if they’re made of glass and could shatter at any second, I head toward the lockers. I can’t wait to tell Stephanie.
She doesn’t wait for me to come up to her, but rushes to me, her hands on her chest as she catches her breath.
“Chrissy, you won’t believe this!” She grabs my hand and leads me forward before I can even ask what’s happening. “Come quick.”
“Where are you taking me?”
She just shakes her head, urgently dragging me along. “Better if you see it for yourself.”
We’re racing through the hall, weaving past students and making our way toward the announcement board. Whatever it is, I can tell it’s big.
People gather in front of the board as if something earth-shattering had been posted there. Stephanie and I navigate through the crowd to the front.
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” I ask, raising my voice to be sure she heard me over the surrounding chatter.
She wriggles between two girls who grimace as we pass. “Almost there.”
We’re now close enough to read what’s posted, and she points to the middle announcement. “Look.”
The talent show poster, with neon pink and blue flowing lines, spiraling and looping, the kind you see when someone rapidly moves glow sticks in front of you, monopolizes most of the board. Written on it are the names of all the participants and their respective talent.
“It’s a list of everyone that will perform this year,” I say. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”
Stephanie turns to me, her eyes wide. “Read the last entry.”
Right there, at the bottom of the list, my name appears and listed beside it: Dance Routine.
An icy chill runs through me, dragging my stomach to the floor and making my skin pebble. How in the world is this possible?
I stand there befuddled, unable to move.
“Chrissy, did you sign up?” I can tell Stephanie is worried. We share everything, and I’d never keep this from her.
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head, grabbing her arm. “I didn’t do this, Steph, I swear.”
Her expression softens, but the bewilderment is still there. “Then how—“
“Someone must’ve added your name to the list,” Ian says, emerging from behind us, looking as puzzled as we are.
“But who would do such a thing?” Stephanie says, incredulous.
I turn my back to the board. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be a no-show, anyway.” Whether it’s a mistake or someone’s messing with me makes no difference. Even if my name is on the list, I don’t have to take part. You’d have to pay me to get up on that stage. No, wait—scratch that. The only way I’d dance is if BTS’s Jungkook himself asked me to. And even then, I’d still insist on performing in an empty auditorium.
Just as I’m finally beginning to calm down, an annoying voice breaks through the crowd. “What’s the matter, geek?” Paige says. “Afraid to compete?”
