Free Eternal Heat (Firework Girls #3) by J. L. White Page A

this? He should’ve known I could get away with something less demanding.
    But before I know it, the time for thinking and worrying is past. The man in charge calls my name with ringing finality.
    “Good luck,” Erik whispers.
    I rise from my seat, feeling like every eye in the house is on me. I climb the steps to the stage, but don’t remember until I’m almost all the way to the piano to hitch a smile on my face. I get to the bench and turn to face the audience. I fix my eyes on the back wall and bow.
    I sit down and look at the keys. It’s the same as any other piano, when you get right down to it, but of course it’s not the same. The sight of the black and ivory doesn’t give me the same friendly feeling it usually does.
    God. I just want to get this over with.
    I just need to get through it, I tell myself firmly . That’s what Erik’s been telling me. That’s all I have to do.
    I put my hands on the keys and begin to play. I go measure to measure, watching my fingers as I go, and am kind of freaking out because I’m perfectly aware that I’m still here on the stage. I was counting on at least being able to slip down the rabbit hole and just lose myself in the music once I got started, but that’s not happening. I have to think about every chord. I’m aware of every eye. But I keep going, because what the hell else am I going to do?
    A third of the way through my piece, the music starts to rise and it’s here that it finally, finally takes over. It’s not me sitting at a piano performing anymore. I’m not just going through the motions. The music knocks its way through my nerves at last and my will surrenders.
    Ah, here it is, I sigh as I allow the music to take me away. I escape the scrutiny of the audience gladly. This is my music now. It belongs to me. And I give it all the love and care it deserves.
    I had doubted for a moment there, but now I know for sure: the music will always be there to save me.
    I fly through the rest, carried on wings only I can see. When I finish, I smile at the keys. My old friends.
    A burst of applause claps over me like thunder and I look up abruptly. I forget to look at the back wall and instead look right at a sea of faces. My eyes land on a woman with an emerald green scarf around her neck, and I see it on her face. She’s got that glow about her. She felt the music, just like I did.
    How amazing, I think, still taking in this unexpected development.
    I smile, stand, and bow. I see another face that wears an expression of being touched by music. And another.
    The applause follows me off the stage. I’m not required to smile anymore, but I can’t stop smiling.
    Erik meets me and gives me an enthusiastic hug. “That was so great!” he says.
    “That was!” I say, but I’m not talking about how I played. I’m talking about playing up there. In front of people. “I made them feel the music,” I say. “ I did that!”
    He laughs and nods, like he understands. Of course, he does. I feel like I’ve been let into some sort of exclusive club. I had no idea how good this would feel.
    We settle back in our seats and even though my heart’s still pounding, my body starts to relax. It’s over. I did it. Erik takes my hand and I smile at him.
    “Are you glad you came?” he asks.
    I nod. “Thank you.”
    He smiles. “Don’t thank me. You did it for you, remember?”
    I grin. “I know, but I wouldn’t have done it without you.”
    “Hmm,” he says with a devilish look, turning back to the stage and squeezing my hand. “On to the next.”
    “What do you mean?”
    The next performer starts to play and he puts his finger to his lips, still smiling.
    When it comes time for the medallions to be presented to the winners, the emcee explains there are awards for each level.
    “What does he mean ‘level’?” I ask Erik, leaning close to him.
    “It’s like age categories, but for skill level instead.”
    “Oh, that’s what that was?” I’d seen a question about