Pretty Little Choirs

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Phoebe is auditioning for the solo spot in the school choir, but she is worried she might not get it because she's auditioning right after Veronica, who is really good.

Veronica: ♪ Baby, you're so great ♪ ♪ You make me smile ♪ ♪ And it's something I cannot hide ♪

Phoebe: I can't believe I have to follow her.

Veronica: ♪ And I can feel it ♪ ♪ For the first time in my life ♪

Everyone then claps as Phoebe claps louder.

Miles: Why is she clapping so loud?

Y/N: She claps loud when she's nervous.

Cherry: Don't worry. This is just practice. Actual solo auditions aren't until Friday.

Phoebe: I don't know, Cherry; she's a senior, and she comes from a long line of professional choir singers.

Cherry: And you... Stood in a long line this morning for a muffin. So, there's that.

Female Teacher: Phoebe Thunderman, you're up.

Y/N: Good luck.

Phoebe then gets up and sings.

Phoebe: ♪ We're so close now ♪ ♪ It's easy to see ♪ ♪ Just take my hand and follow me ♪

Y/N and Miles look at each other in shock.

Y/N: Yeah, she got this in the bag.

♪ Together we will be, oh- ♪

Veronica hits Phoebe with a spitball. She aims directly into Phoebe's mouth causing Phoebe to choke.

Phoebe: A spitball?

Female Teacher: Not bad, Phoebe. But you need to work on your... Not choking.

The school bell rings as everyone leaves with Phoebe, Y/N, Miles, and Cherry together.

Phoebe: Look at this! Who would shoot a spitball at me?

Veronica: I would.

Phoebe: Veronica? Why? We're...sisters in song.

Veronica: I own the solo spot, newb, and I'll stop at nothing to keep it. Choke on... ♪ That ♪

Miles: She does have a nice voice.

Cherry nods in agreement as Veronica shoots another spitball at Phoebe.

Y/N: And nice aim.

Max goes up to them.

Max: Guys, did you hear about the girl who got pelted with spitballs?

Max then sees Phoebe with a spitball on her forehead.

Max: Oh.

Max laughs.

Max: Guess you did.

He then walks away.

Back at home, the Thunder Twins and Y/N explain the situation to their parents.

Phoebe As I'm in the middle of my solo, a spitball flies into my mouth and hits the little punching bag in the back of my throat.

Hank: What is that little thing? It's so...wiggly.

Max: Mm, and so hangy.

Phoebe: And so not the point of my story.

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