Page 90 of Puck It!

I text him back, waiting for his reply.

You doing okay?

No, I’m kind of freaking out.

His name comes across the screen from his incoming call and I answer it.

"Angel." His voice sounds in my ear and my heart slows from it's rapid pace.

"Yeah."

"Talk to me."

"I don’t know what to say Jax, I’m nervous, you see all those people out there."

"I do, but you need to ignore them, Macie."

I giggle in my devilish way as my head shakes, "That’s a lot to ignore Jax."

He chuckles. Hearing that, for a minute I can breathe.

"I’ll be alright when I get in my silks, but until then I’m going to be a nervous wreck."

There’s a knock on my dressing room door before it opens, the director opening the door, giving me the show time nod.

"I have to go, Jax. Enjoy the show. Oh, and don’t hate me after."

"What’s that supposed to mean." He asks in suspicion.

"You’ll see." I giggle, teasingly.

"Macie."

"Bye Jax." I drag my words out before I hang up.

He is going to flip when he sees what I am doing tonight. What he saw at the house that he almost had a heart attack over, is nothing compared to the skill that will be shown tonight.

Boy, do I wish my father could be here to see this. And in away, my mom too, so maybe she will finally see the full picture.

I follow the director out, cracking my neck, getting my body loosened up. Running every detail of my routine in my head, bobbing my head with the music playing in my ear buds.

Watching the band get themselves ready behind the curtains. I see my silks hanging and bile rises to my throat; Oh fuck.

I hold the back of my hand over my mouth and close my eyes for a moment, calming this nausea that’s rising in my throat.

Get it the fuck together Macie.

I force a breath of air out of my parted lips, pulling my shit together, taking my ear buds out before I walk onto the the stage. Stepping into position, preparing to start with my floor part of the routine first, sucking in a deep breath.

As I sit on the floor, my silks hanging behind me, the band play behind my silks, and the singer beside me, but a little more forward.

The singer looks down at me and I nod, all in agreement we are ready to go.

My head hangs between my legs, as my hair that is pulled into a ponytail dangles, and my elbow rests on my knee, my hand in the snapping position.

As the music begins, my wrist rolls, my snap following, meeting the timing of the beat. Following that, counting in my head, waiting, and waiting, knowing the curtains are open, hearing the cheers, and I don’t want to raise my head to see what is in front of me.

But when my count arrives, I lift my head blurring my vision so I don’t focus on the crowd, I feel the music, and it consumes me.

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