If You're Hurt They Bleed

Sing-Off

It was next Monday. I would feel so much better if Dad could have helped me. He was in a bunch of sing-offs when he was in high school.

A sing-off is basically who performs the best. Applause wins the round. You have to prepare three songs, choreography and all, and it's best two out of three. We weren't allowed to have any help, the songs couldn't be ones we'd performed before, and all of the choreography had to be original. For the first time, I was glad that Dad had made me learn all the choreography for the shows he'd been in. He swore it was because he needed to practice synchronization, but I knew it was because he secretly wanted to get me onstage. I had a ballad, an jazz, and a miscast. Those were the rules. All I could do now was hope Molly followed them too.

I could hardly focus on my classes, and choir was the worst. It was Duet Day, so Molly and I were working together for a bunch of the hour since Grayson and I had been working for weeks.

It was after school, and there was a full house. Say what you will about Robinski, but the guy knows how to advertise. We'd flipped a coin in choir, and Molly was going first. I was behind the curtain, watching my choreo on my phone and praying I wouldn't forget it. Molly was pacing and wringing her hands, mouthing the words to what I assumed was her first song. Since she was first up, I picked the order. We'd start with the ballad, then miscast, and finish with jazz.

Robinski walked onstage and the crowd hushed. "Alright, ladies, gentlemen, and those who have yet to make up their minds," He paused, proud of his quick Broadway reference. "We are here to witness history. The first sing-off in 25 years. I can't say I'm proud we broke that streak, but these two girls are both extraordinarily talented. Please give it up for our very own Jenna Hunterson, Maya Johnson!" Applause exploded in the audience as Molly paraded onstage, her blonde hair bouncing behind her. With her blue sweater and heels, she looked like Galinda.

I glanced down at my own outfit. My hair was in a braid, and I was wearing a t-shirt that said 'No, I didn't eat grass as a child' and my ratty converse. We were the reverse story of Wicked.

The audience quieted once more, and Molly started her first song.

"On my own..." Of course, she'd opted for Eponine. I remembered the reason I hadn't chosen the song: It was a horrible audition song. Samantha Barks was impossible to best. It was just a fact. I tuned her out, focusing on a step in the jazz song.

I was doing well ignoring her until she reached the bridge.

"And I know,

It's only in my mind..."

I could hear a shaking come into her usually perfectly sturdy voice.

"That I'm talking-"

Her voice cracked. I couldn't believe it. She continued as if nothing had happened, but I knew her well enough to know it shook her.

She finished strong, and a surge of applause filled the theater.

"Alright! Let's hear it for Molly!" Robinski exclaimed. "And now, the Belle of the ball, Maya Porter!" I walked out, steadying my hands. Taking a deep breath, I looked out to the audience.

"Some people long for a life that is simple and plain..."I had a simple night sky background compared to Molly's torn french flag, and a light cast a thin shadow resembling a tightrope. My choreography was simple, stumbling along the shadow, but compared to Molly, who hadn't had any, I was feeling pretty good.