Her hand clamped over my arm. Looking down at it, I’d never felt more repulsed by someone.
“You need to go,” she hissed. “Run, Peyton! Leave now, before somebody—”
“Mom?”
She blinked, and I looked her in the eyes. They were still beautiful, even glassy.
“I’m through running.”
With that I stormed off, not caring to hear another thing. Luckily I didn’t have to. The crowd began roaring, and then broke into widespread, wall-to-wall applause.
When I looked up again, I saw Donovan walking out on stage. He was waving like a celebrity, twisting his hand left and right like an idiot. His punchable face was plastered with his usual fake, plastic smile.
“How’s everybody doing tonight!?” Donovan yelled, trying to channel a rock star’s swagger. His voice blared back perfectly from every direction, on dozens of different loudspeakers.
Just then I heard a soft crackle in my ear.
“Peyton! It’s done!”
Theo’s voice dripped with excitement.
“Yeah?”
“We’re on!” he answered crisply. “Get up there, and do your thing.”
My thing.Holy shit.
Adrenaline surged through me, as I headed toward the steps. My heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of my chest.
“The show’s all yours.”
