Free In Sarah's Shadow by Karen McCombie Page B

hadn’t understood it the other night, when he’d stared down at me from the stage after Sarah stormed off. But I do now; crystal clear. Apart from humming along backstage, he’d heard me singing it in my room,Conor said, the night we’d had the conversation in Sarah’s room, right after she’d more or less banished me to my own bedroom.
    Now…now this look is telling me that it’s all right, he has confidence in me.
    He needn’t worry – for just about the first time in my life I have confidence in myself and it feels so mind-blowingly, heart-soaringly brilliant that it’s all I can do to stop myself singing before my part actually begins.

Chapter 10
Luck…but which kind?
    No wonder I need a minute alone, to take it all in.
    What’s it called again? The stuff that your body releases when you’re happy? Endorphins, that’s right. Well, it’s been so long since I felt this happy that I’m feeling totally dizzy with this endorphin rush. My skin is still prickling with it; I’m so giddy I could giggle out loud.
    Me. Second-best Megan. I just sang in front of four hundred people. I harmonised and did this brilliant little dance routine with two of the coolest girls in school, and I didn’t mess up once. No one booed at me, no one laughed, no one told me I didn’t fit in. It was my hand that Cherish held as we bounced down the steps of the stage afterwards, laughing with relief; it was my cheekthat Angel kissed when we rushed off-stage, it was me who felt the warmth of that bear-hug from Conor…
    But you know, for one second when I was singing, my confidence nearly slipped. I’m sure it was my imagination – it was too dark to make out any one person in the audience – but I was almost positive I saw Sarah out there, glowering at me, willing me to fail.
    Just as quickly as that thought squeezed its way into my head, I told myself she’d never show up here today; never put herself through the humiliation of watching the band play without her. Her precious pride wouldn’t let her.
    But here comes someone I really do recognise, for real. Through the small crowd dancing in the middle of this huge, semi-darkened auditorium, I see a familiar figure wending his way carefully towards me, deftly moving from side to side whenever it looks like any of the dancers are about to barge into him.
    “Brought you this,” says Conor, handing me one of the two white plastic cups he’s holding.
    According to the teachers and the competition organisers, it’s supposed to be a non-alcoholic punch-type thing, but I spotted the hip-hop band from Kendale pouring what looked suspiciously like a bottle of vodka into it earlier when the teachers and everyone were stilltrying to shoo the audience out to their waiting coaches so the after-show party proper could begin.
    One bottle of vodka among this many people; it’s not like it’s exactly going to have that much effect. But then again, most of the members of Caramel are now treating Stage 1 like a giant podium, and by the looks of it, their music teacher’s really having his eyes opened to the delights of butterfly dancing. (Not a pretty sight with the size of bums on a couple of those not particularly fly fly-girls.)
    “Thanks,” I smile shyly, now that I’ve used up most of my confidence reserves in the course of one rendition of Girl from Mars. Which won us second place, by the way; Velvet Death came first with an ultra-slow, gloom-drenched version of Madonna’s Like a Virgin. “The judges liked the irony of it, I guess,” Mr Fisher had shrugged, when the winner was announced. “It’s a total fix,” Salman had muttered darkly. “Did you check out that judge sitting in the middle? Old goth: no doubt about it.”
    I don’t know whether Velvet Death won because they made the judges laugh, or whether the middle judge liked their lacy shirts, and I don’t much care. All I know is that I got through something amazing today and I’m so proud I’m buzzing.
    “So,