MOLLY GRIFFIN POV
Stupid Mrs. Davis is making me sing. I'm literally sick. I know that I can't make this very long, because my throat is sore and I'm not allowed to bring water. "Cmon Cassidy!" I said, as my pal lallygagged behind me. We were going backstage to transition between our songs. Then I see a miracle. There is an almost full bottle of water sitting backstage! I know I can't risk sounding like a dead frog while I sing, so I take it. I drink the whole thing. It might be a little warm, and taste weird, but that's ok. It's just sitting back stage, and obviously no one is that gross in choir. "Molly!" Karissa chimes, "That's been there for a week!". This made me question the cleanliness. I checked the bottle for a form of identification, to see who's H2O I drank. The only thing on it was JB, written in sharpie. I shrug my shoulders, and turn to my friends. "Well, let's get singin!" I say, and with that we file on to the stage, ready to have the performance of a lifetime.
