Chapter 2
The auditorium stayed frozen.
Nobody knew whether to clap, whisper, or run.
I sat under the spotlight with my right shoe in my lap and my foot pressed against the stage floor.
The pain was real now.
Not hidden behind music.
Not covered by adrenaline.
Real.
My dance teacher, Ms. Alvarez, knelt beside me.
“Hannah, don’t move.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
I looked past her.
My mother was already running toward the stage.
She did not care that she was still in her diner uniform.
She did not care that people were staring.
She climbed the side steps faster than I had ever seen her move.
“Hannah!”
“I’m okay, Mom.”
She saw the tack on the stage.
Her face changed.
Not fear.
Rage.
Quiet rage.
The kind that scares more than shouting.
She looked toward Brooke.
“Who did this to my daughter?”
Brooke tried to laugh again.
“Nobody knows it was me.”
The principal, Mr. Harris, stepped closer.
“We did not say it was you, Brooke.”
Her mouth closed.
Too late.
A judge leaned over the table.
“This competition is paused.”
The crowd erupted in whispers.
The stagehand handed the dance bag to Mr. Harris.
“There were three more tacks in the side pocket,” he said. “And her bag was moved before she performed.”
Ms. Alvarez looked at Brooke.
“You were backstage near her bag.”
“So was everyone.”
My phone buzzed again from where it sat on a backstage chair.
Ms. Alvarez picked it up and looked at the screen.
Her face hardened.
“Hannah, it’s from Lily.”
Brooke’s best friend.
Or former best friend, judging by the message.
My mother helped me stand carefully.
The principal read the message aloud only to the judges, Ms. Alvarez, and my mother.
Then he looked at Brooke.
“Lily says there is a video.”
Brooke’s hands curled into fists.
“She’s lying.”
The side curtain moved.
Lily stepped out.
Her face was pale.
Her phone was in her hand.
“No,” she said. “I’m done lying.”
Brooke turned on her.
“Lily, shut up.”
Lily shook her head.
“You hurt her.”
“She still danced, didn’t she?”
The words left Brooke’s mouth before she could stop them.
The whole auditorium heard.
My mother took one step forward.
Ms. Alvarez caught her arm.
Not because she blamed her.
Because everyone saw my mother was one second away from doing what I could not do from the stage.
Mr. Harris said, “Brooke, come with me.”
Brooke looked at the judges.
Then at the crowd.
Then at me.
For one second, there was no perfect smile.
No pretty costume.
May you like
No champion face.
Only panic.
