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This isnothappening.
Clara could’ve written a similar paper, I tell myself. Anyone at the academy could’ve. And then I remember Ms. Frampton specifically mentioning that she’d finally read my essay. Could she have submitted it to the nomination committee?
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I’m going to pass out.
“Omega Academy Cambridge, please welcome to the stage and assist me in congratulating your very own, Maddison Darling!”
He says it like he’s expecting a roar from the crowd. Instead, there’s a rush of gasps and only scattered applause before the auditorium goes so quiet one would be able to hear a kitten fart.
Mr. Mitchell clears his throat uncomfortably, his brows lowering, confused by my academy’s reaction. He’d expected bigger fanfare.
I wish I was invisible.
I wish I could sink into my seat, down into the floor, and disappear into nothing.
The cameras in the cavernous hall pan slowly, obviously expecting an eruption to occur around the selected Omega, but I’m seated between people who don’t even know me.
They’re craning their necks, looking around like they’re trying to find me.
“There she is,” I hear someone shout. “Up there.”
My teeth clench so hard they might crack.
A spotlight overhead clicks on, the warm white light streaking over the student body until it lands squarely on me.
Holy fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I rise, so nervous that I can’t hear anything over my heart jackhammering in my chest. My vision is black around the edges, and I clutch seat backs from the row ahead as I robotically turn and try to scoot past the knees of the other students in my row.
“Congratulations,” one of them whispers as I pass.
I don’t even know what to say.
“Try not to trip,” another teases, and a fresh bolt of unadulterated fear rips through me.
They totally just jinxed it. I’m screwed.
Hushed murmurs break out all around me as I pause for a shallow breath, my knuckles turning white from their grip on the seat next to me.
Don’t pass out. Donotpass out.
Do not trip over your own feet, Maddie.
I repeat. No. Bloody. Tripping.
When I finally make it to the aisle, I focus intently on putting one foot in front of the other, hyper-aware of the cameras following my every move.Fucking hell, how many people are watching me right now?
Nope.
Can’t think about that.
It occurs to me that it could be in the millions, but that not one of them actually knows me. My family and Ms. Frampton are the only people who do. My mum can’t watch, my dad is hunting for a job, and Kevin is at school.
The knowledge that absolutely no one in the world except my literature instructor is supporting me from afar right now settles like a lead weight on my chest. The weight gets even heavier when I look up to find Headmistress Hartigan watching me with her nose scrunched up like she’s smelled something vile. Like she wants to squash me like a bug and announce an understudy to take my place.
