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Grade
9

    Don't miss your cue.
    I chanted the mantra to myself in time to the beat of the music. 1 2 3 4, don’t miss your cue, 1 2 3 4.
    It was opening night of the school’s musical, and the auditorium was packed. My first glimpse of the sea of students, kids, and parents alike was when the curtains rose for the opening number, and it took all my willpower to keep in character and not let the mischievous smirk slide off my face in favor of some ugly mix of shock, awe, and dread.
    I had done well enough, but after that, I had run offstage and was not set to reappear until my solo song, which was approaching much more rapidly than I would have liked. 1 2 3 4, don't miss your cue.
    Onstage, a girl was singing her heart out as the music got more intense and dramatic, signaling the number was coming to a close. I tried to take a slow, deep breath, but my chest tightened with nervousness.
    I bit my lip and narrowed my eyes.
    Screw the nerves.

Run 2 3 4, 1 2-
    I posed.
    I smiled.
    And I sang.

State
VA
Zip Code
22192