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Chapter 27
“I’m not the one up there doing anything. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” Troy fidgeted in the middle school auditorium seat as he waited for the lights to go down and the program to begin. He didn’t think he could’ve been wound any tighter if Mila had been performing at Carnegie Hall.
“It’s always worse to watch someone you care about take a big risk than it is to do it yourself. There’s no control. You’re just as invested in the outcome, but you haven’t done any of the preparation.”
Troy let out a long breath. “So, I guess this was how it was for my family watching me play in big games?”
Alison nodded. “I’d imagine so. Now you know how it feels to be on both sides of the equation.”
He groaned. “Oh, God. I’d rather be out there swinging the bat. No question. This is miserable.”
She laid a hand lightly on his arm. “You say that now, but you’ve only lived through half of the experience. The nerves part.”
“What’s the other part?”
“The pride at your loved one’s victory. It’s pretty spectacular.”
“Yeah. I bet.”
The lights came down at that moment, but before the curtain rose, Alison leaned over and whispered, “You won’t have to. Before the night’s over, you’re going to feel it. I can guarantee you that.”
Troy’s fists clenched as the students walked out on stage. His gut clenched when Mila appeared.
She walked confidently, her shoulders thrown back and chin held high. He could only see the evidence of her nerves in her pinched lips and tense fingers because he knew her so well—had known her since birth. To the average audience member, she was the picture of poise. But to Troy’s practiced eye, the evidence of her tension was obvious, and it made his heart clench for her.
All Troy wanted to do was protect her. He lived to protect the people he loved, that was all that mattered to him. Mila…and now Alison.
Yeah, he had to admit it to himself. There was really no question. He was falling in love with Alison. In fact, he may have already fallen. And one of the ways he knew that for sure was that he was now seized with just as fierce a protective instinct toward her as he felt toward Mila.
It was a need to shield her from anything bad that might happen, from any hurt, no matter how slight. An impulse to take all of that onto himself rather than let it befall her. And it wasn’t just a passing thought, it was damn near a compulsion.
He knew that if he ever saw Alison in the same situation that he was seeing Mila in right then—on the precipice of either incredible greatness or spectacular failure—he’d feel the same thing he felt in that moment: utter terror.
That fear lasted exactly as long as Mila’s visible evidence of tension did: until the moment she opened her mouth and started singing. Troy saw the instant of transformation, and it took his breath away. One minute, her shoulders were tense and her mouth was pinched, and the next instant the music swept her up and carried her away, and she was lost to it fully.
When she took her first step into the dance routine for the opening number, there was no tension in her muscles, no hesitation, no stiffness in her facial expression.
She’d felt the fear and walked right out on that stage anyway, stood there, faced the crowd, and kicked the fear’s butt.
He’d never been prouder.
“See?” Alison’s whisper in his ear pulled him from his near-trance state.
Never tearing his eyes from Mila onstage, he leaned his head closer to her and whispered, “What?”
Alison covered his hand with hers. “The pride high. It’s pretty spectacular, right?”
He turned his hand over so that they were palm to palm and wrapped his fingers around hers. “You were spot on.”
They sat like that throughout the show, holding hands and giving each other little squeezes when Mila did something particularly well.
Troy felt a little twinge of disappointment when Ms. Miller, the show choir director, stepped to the microphone, he assumed to thank the audience for coming and announce the final number. He didn’t know if that disappointment stemmed more from knowing that the experience of watching his sister shine onstage was almost at an end…or knowing that he’d soon have to let go of Alison’s hand. He wasn’t thrilled about either one.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Monica Miller, the choral director here at Valentine Bay Middle School. First of all, I’d like to thank all of the parents, family, and friends who’ve come out to support our students tonight. You’re the reason we’ve worked so hard to give a good show tonight, and you’ve been a great audience. So give yourselves a hand!”
When the applause died down, Ms. Miller stepped back up to the mic. “Now, this is the point of the program that we normally perform our finale number. And we will get to that, in just one moment. But, first, we have a very special treat for one of our choir members. For all of us, really.”
Troy could see the kids in the choir exchange puzzled looks and some of them were even whispering to each other. Clearly this was a surprise, in the truest sense of the word.
