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Okay. Right. Okay. Except, little flaw in this plan, I can’t dance for shit. Granted, I’m no worse than Jordy, from the looks of things, but I’m the one in the middle of the stage.

I step from side to side, waving the flag weakly and wishing something would fall on me and put me into a well-earned coma. Where’s the phantom of the rock concert when you need him? Next, I sort of box step, because I remember that from middle school dance class. Then, I do a spin, because I’m running out of ideas, and Ithinkthe crowd gets louder? Although that might be them laughing at me, it’s hard to tell.

No, it’sdefinitelygetting louder. Like, panic levels of loud. Is there a fire? I look around, only to find Jordy, which is objectively worse.

He waves at the crowd for a while, walking across the stage right in front of the band while he mouths the lyrics. Meanwhile, I bop along in the background, sort of stepping in time to the music and waving the Chalonian flag in front of me to distract everyone.

Stage smoke starts shooting up at us from the sides as Jordy circles back and holds his hand out. I hand him the flag, and he bursts out laughing, then hands it to Isaac backstage, before turning back to me.

Oh, right, he wants to dance together.

I take his hand and he spins me around before pulling me into his chest. We rock from side to side, bouncing to the music, until, grudgingly, I smile. Itisfun to be up here, actually. Like we can’t get it wrong, no matter what we do. Jordy breaks into a grin as soon as he sees it. “That’s better,” he shouts, and even this close to him I basically have to lip-read to understand him. “Have somefun,Maya!”

“Fuck you, Jordy, I’m never forgiving you for this!”

“Fuck you more, I know you’re enjoying it. Just give in.”

Steering us to the front of the stage, Jordy throws his hands up and jumps, and, screw it, I copy him, and the crowd copies us, jumping in time like we’re mass puppet masters. Then, he pulls my hands around his neck and starts slow dancing with me. Given the song is, from what I can make out, about either setting fire to an attic or letting go of childhood trauma, it seems abitinappropriate, but, you know, it’s better than the macarena, so I’ll take it.

Finally, the song comes to an end, and Jordy and I pull apart and face the crowd. My heart’s stopped racing now. With all these lights, I can barely make individual people out. Without the faces, it’s like it’s not real. I’m not really onstage in front of thousands of people.

Then I put my hands above my head, and those thousands of people scream for me, and it’s real again. But instead of terror, I feel victory.

I’ve danced the way I was told to dance. I played my part. And they love me for it.

Fake or not, as long as I keep dancing with Jordy, the hate disappears. The scorn, the laughter, all of it. They’ve never heard the lies about me I’m so used to people believing.

And, god, even if it’s totally immoral and wrong, it feels good to give in to that and be loved. Just for a minute.

Even if it’s not real.

TWENTYMaya

“Are you actually serious?” Skye cries. “Lauren gets a helicopter ride, you star in your own concert, and I getchocolate dip? That I don’t even get toeat?”

“They did make me jump around with a flag and slow dance with Jordy,” I remind her. “I was basically a dancing monkey.”

“Still. At least it’ll give you a memory,” Skye says. “I’ll forget last night by next week.”

We’re sitting against the wall on my bed, sharing a jumbo bag of potato chips and listening to her dad’s ancient playlist on her speaker.

“True,” I say. “I’ll need it to get me through next year.”

“You always talk about college like it’s a death sentence. Nobody’s forcing you to go, you know.”

She says it so offhandedly, like dropping out of college is the most normal, run-of-the-mill, no-consequence thing someone could do. “Uh, they kind of are? The job market, for one.”

“There are jobs that don’t require degrees. And you can go to college in a year or two if you realize there’s something you do want to do. Next excuse?”

I frown. “My mom spent the last, like, decade working her ass off so I could have a future.”

“You’ve already got a future. I promise you, people without med degrees exist. They’re out there, as we speak, living their futures. Don’t be a snob, Maya!”

“Yeah, but… but now Jordy knows I’m going to college next year, and I just know he’s waiting for me to drop out so he can judge me for it. I want to prove him wrong.”

“That’s possibly the worst reason I’ve ever heard to spend the next decade studying to enter a grueling career field devoting your life to others. Honestly, if you said you were just doing it for the paycheck, I’d be quite a bit less concerned.”

A decade of study. I wince, hearing that. I mean, obviously Iknowit’s a decade. But I try not to think of it in numbers like that. In fact, I try not to think about it too much, period. If I pretend it’s happening to someone else, I barely panic at all.