Page 16

Friday Showcase takes place in the afternoon, which means I have half a day to suffer through before Neon and I get up onstage.

I’m so nervous that I can’t pay attention in class, can’t eat anything, can only half listen when Caitlin and Hannah talk to me.

As soon as the bell rings at the end of lunch, I pull Neon to one side of the canteen.

“I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” I wrap my arms round myself, shivering in the cold air. “You’ll be OK to perform by yourself, right? We can say I have a headache or something.”

“No! Laurie, you can do this.” Neon puts both hands on my shoulders and leans down slightly, looking at me square in the eye like I’m a boxer about to go into the ring. “We’ve practised the song a thousand times. You’ll be perfect!”

“But what if I mess up?”

The idea of all those faces looking at me while I stumble over the verses, even pointing and laughing at me… It makes me want to run home and hide under my bed for the rest of the week.

“Then I’ll mess up even worse, and you’ll look great by comparison.” Neon throws his hands into the air. “Even if we do make a mistake, so what? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Caitlin’s face floats into my mind. I’ve seen her sneer at so many people, me included. She’s been nicer to me since Neon came, but he’s leaving tomorrow. What if everything goes back to normal once he’s gone?

“Look, if you really don’t want to, I’m not going to force you.

” Neon tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes.

He has a way of looking at me that feels like he’s scanning my soul.

“But I think you do want to. I think you created me as this big, loud personality who will perform at the drop of a hat because part of you wants to be like that too. Maybe not to the same extent as me – I know I’m a bit much sometimes. ”

I laugh and follow him into the corridor. “You’re not too much, Neon. You’re exactly right.”

Since Neon and I signed up late, we’re performing last, which means I have another agonising thirty-minute wait before we get to go up onstage. I’m so anxious, I almost forget to clap after Mikey the cello prodigy’s Vivaldi piece. After an eternity, Mr Ross arrives at the end of the list.

“Finally, we’ve got Laurie Storey-Peters and her friend Neon, who is visiting from New York this week.” He scans the audience to find us. “Come on up, you two.”

Neon grabs my hand and pulls me up before I can chicken out.

Mr Ross helps us carry a couple of microphones to the middle of the stage.

My hands shake as I turn mine on. Neon taps his to test it and makes a loud squealing sound.

Everyone winces, then laughs when Neon apologises to the microphone.

He turns to the audience and smiles, looking like a total pro.

“Hi. Thanks a lot for having us. I’ve really liked being part of your school this week. I wish I could stay longer.” Someone from the crowd – Hari, I think – gives a whoop of agreement, and Neon grins. “Oh, and we have a band name too! It’s Neon Story, and this is ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’.”

He starts to play the familiar opening bars on his guitar.

My pulse races faster as I look out at the audience.

A few people are smiling; some look bored; some are whispering to their friends.

Out of everyone there, it’s Tilly’s eye that catches mine.

She quickly glances away, and I look down at the microphone.

My hands are clammy and my mouth has gone so dry, I don’t know if I’ll even be able to sing.

Neon belts out the first few lines. His voice is low to begin with, but bright and clear, every note in the right place.

Suddenly it seems so silly that I’m up here with him, sharing his spotlight.

I’m not like him, all charming and charismatic.

I’m not a performer. That’s why I made him the way he is, why I gave him a name that stands out and shines – because it gave me a way to be someone I’m not. Someone I’ll never be.

And suddenly I’m sure that everyone else can see it too. When the song reaches my verse, all I do is shake my head.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t. I can’t.”

Neon’s hand slips on the guitar strings.

Hundreds of eyes follow me as I hurry off the stage and across the hall.

Hannah and Caitlin both sit up in their seats in the first row.

Hannah looks worried; Caitlin has the tiniest hint of a smile on her face, but she wipes it away as I sweep past. Neon shouts after me, but I pretend not to hear.

“Sorry, folks. Laurie’s not feeling well, so it looks like I’ve gone solo!” He forces a laugh. A few people join in. “So, uh… How about a bit of Harry Styles instead?”

There’s a light smattering of applause as I push open the door to the hall.

I don’t stick around to watch Neon perform, even when he announces he’s going to do one of my favourite songs.

Tears are pushing at the back of my eyes, hot and prickly.

I’m so angry at myself, but not for running away.

I’m angry that I ever thought I could do this in the first place.

The courtyard is deserted since everyone is at the showcase, but I only have a short moment of peace – we get to go home early on Fridays, so after a few minutes the bell rings and people pour out through the doors.

A few stare at me as they go past. Some give me sympathetic smiles, but most don’t seem surprised that I croaked.

I wait for Neon by the gates and hope that he’ll come out alone, not with Caitlin or Hannah or anyone else. As if he’s read my mind, a minute later he comes sprinting through the doors like he’s trying to outrun them all.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, shaking my head. “I couldn’t do it.”

Neon swings an arm round me and pulls me into a hug. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go home.”

We hurry away from school before Caitlin and the others can catch up with us. My phone begins to buzz in my pocket, probably with messages from her and Hannah. I don’t read them right away. They might be genuinely nice but they might not be, and that would make me feel even worse.

“So what happened?” Neon asks once we’re nearly at my house. “Stage fright?”

I explain as best as I can. Now that the showcase is over and we’re away from school, my reaction seems quite silly.

Even if I’d been really, really bad, it’s not like people were going to shout and throw tomatoes at us.

Caitlin might have made a few mean comments, but she and everyone else would have forgotten about it eventually.

But it was like my body went into flight mode: all I wanted to do was get out of there.

“Sorry,” I say again. “It would have been awesome to do something like that together. That was our only chance to sing together before you leave, and I ruined it.”

“Well, actually…” Neon pauses on the corner to the next street. “You don’t need to worry about that because I’ve made a decision.”

“Yeah?” I look at him. “What decision?”

Neon takes a long look around, surveying the rows of houses, the gardens with washing hanging up to dry or bikes lying on the grass – this quiet, uneventful slice of reality. Then he leans in and whispers something to me with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not going back.”