Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

of faces. I spotted them sandwiched between other parents in the second-to-last row. My mom waved at me, and I waved back, getting more nervous. I just wanted them to be proud of me when I started my solo.

“My parents are here,” I told Kev.

He pushed his glasses up his nose. “You’ll rock, Jess. Th-They and everyone will love it.”

I tugged at my shirt and flattened the invisible creases. In around thirty minutes, the solos would start, and I would have to perform in front of everyone. I had to do this. I had to.

“I should’ve learned my mom’s breathing techniques. I think I’m going to hyperventilate.”

“Don’t s-s-stress about it. You’ll do just fine.”

“We should’ve done a duet. It would be easier for me to go out there if I had someone by my side.”

“You can do it, Jessica,” Marcus cheered. “You know what Ms. Donovan always tells you—your voice is so good you’ll do well no matter how you sing.”

I sighed. “She was sugarcoating it to get me to relax.”

“But she wasn’t lying,” Kev said. “Your voice is p-perfect.”

“Thanks,” I said on an exhaled breath then went over to greet my parents.

They were excited to see me perform because this would be my first public performance since sixth grade. Mom had told me quite a few times this morning how proud she was of me and assured me I would do great. Dad had given me a thumbs-up and said he was one hundred percent sure everyone would love my solo.

I took my Martin from Mom, who had brought it for me, and returned to my friends. The guitar had never seemed heavier in my hands than now, and I fiercely hoped my voice wouldn’t betray me and my stomachache wouldn’t get worse, because I felt like I was going to have diarrhea being this wigged out.

Blake, Masen, and Hayden went with their team for a quick shower and a change of clothes before they came back to the gym, and they arrived just in time for the choir to step out on the court.

The flutters in my belly tripled when they took seats on Steven’s other side, and for a few moments, I couldn’t move from my seat. I was mortified of drawing any attention to myself, most of all Blake’s.

Kevin and Marcus stood up and looked at me with raised eyebrows, and I couldn’t delay it any longer. I rose to my feet with my heart working in a wild rhythm.

“You’ll nail it, girl.” Mel winked at me. “Don’t think about anything. Just immerse yourself in your music or whatever poetic thing you artists do.” She made some dramatic moves with her arms, as if she was acting in a play.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Blake looking at me, and I stiffened. “Thanks, Mel.” My voice wasn’t mine, and I had to give myself a quick inner pep talk so I could get my body to move.

Sarah’s eyes glowed warmly as she smiled. “You can do it.”

I managed to smile back at her in response and finally moved my sluggish legs. My body buzzed with awareness. It seemed like the whole audience stared at me as I joined the choir on the dais and left my guitar on the side for later. I had to stand in the front row because of my small height, which only hiked up my anxiety.

I twisted my hands together and looked over my shoulder at Kevin and Marcus, who stood directly behind me. “I’m so nervous,” I whispered to them.

Kev patted my shoulder and gave me a few words of encouragement that managed to dispel some of the tension in me. After Ms. Donovan’s short speech, we started our piece, and I was able to relax enough not to mess up as the voices surrounded me in perfect harmony.

Before I knew it, it was over and the solos were next. Shelly was performing first, so Ms. Donovan sat down at the piano that had been brought to the stage to accompany her. We remained standing at our assigned places as a sign of support, and my nerves got more frayed with each minute closer to my performance. I should’ve gone to the restroom before this. I needed to pee so badly.

I listened to two solos that followed with a pounding heart and an aching stomach because the next and last solo was mine. I was terrified that I was going to sing off-key or play a bad note, and all kinds of nerve-racking scenarios dominated my mind.

Submerged in fear, I didn’t even hear Ms. Donovan call me to perform next. Kev had to nudge me to get my attention, whispering that it was my turn, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. Every single step was hard as I picked up my guitar and went to sit behind the mic. I clutched the neck of my guitar like it was my only defense against the apocalypse that was going to wreak havoc on me and obliterate the ounce of courage I’d managed to gather.

Kevin stepped in front of me with his GoPro and smiled encouragingly, but all I could think about was that he was going to record my failure. I looked away from the lens, beginning to think it was a bad idea to use this performance to show myself on my channel.

I cleared my throat. “Ah, hello,” I said, checking the volume of the microphone. My voice sounded like someone was strangling me. I’d prepared a few sentences to say as my introduction, but my nervousness erased them completely from my mind and I couldn’t come up with anything to say.

Everyone was silent, too silent, and the loud drumming of my heart filled my ears. So many unknown faces in the audience melded into a mass of various colors that prevented me from finding my parents, and I had to blink a few times to clear my vision. My breathing quickened. I expected to hear