Page 28 of Love Notes

But I’m not so sure. My stomach flips as I soak in every intonation of her voice, each second of herperformance.

When it’s over, the drama director thanksher.

“Annie. AnnieJamieson.”

Nerves buzz through me, and a dozen heads whip toward our seats partwayback.

Those heads include Carly and herminions.

Oh, yeah. Regardless of the outcome, this won’t gounnoticed.

“You don’t need to stay,” I say to Pen. “I’m freaked out enough as itis.”

“I’mstaying.”

I squeeze her arm in gratitude before starting up theaisle.

“You looked better with your spots the other night. I think I still seesome.”

I flip Carly’s minions off and take the stairs to the stage one at a time, then head for the piano at the corner. “MayI?”

“Sure.” The accompanist slides off thebench.

She’s nothing.Nobody.

“What are you performing, Annie?” the teachercalls.

I settle on the bench, the hardwood strangely comforting as I spread the sheet music in front of me. “A song called ‘Inside.’”

There are a few dozen people in the audience, most of themauditioning.

Carly’s surrounded by her minions in the front row. They’re trading snide comments, and I force my attention toPen.

My friend gives a confident nod, and I glance back out over the emptyseats.

For the musical itself, the room will befull.

It’s not a football stadium, but it feels big. Full ofpossibility.

A shadow near the door catches my attention, but when I cut a look in that direction, the doorway’sempty.

You’re nothing.Nobody.

If I’m nothing… I have zero tolose.

I square my shoulders and start toplay.

The arrangement isn’t complicated. It’s one of my dad’s songs, one he wrote when he was my age, but it’s raw andbeautiful.

Halfway through, I realize I don’t care where I am anymore. The people in the audience don’t matter. It’s the stage thatmatters.

Up here, it’s impossible to benothing.

When I get to thechorus…

I sing my gutsout.

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