As my eyes adjust to the fluorescent glare, I suddenly feel very small. And I sense it coming on but am in no position to stop it:

PANIC.

FEAR.

VOMIT.

"What are we supposed to do now?" I hiss over at Hartley, but she's waving at the audience and blowing kisses like a festival queen on a parade float.

"Have fun," she whispers back at me. "You remember how to do that, right?"

Gulp.

Whatever happens, I cannot lose it right now. I glance down at Sully who's still grinning from ear to ear. He gives me a wave, and I wave back. I think. But when I twist around to look at Hartley, my voice rises to near hysteria. "They expect us to do something!"

"Then let's do something. How about the song we did at the middle school talent show?" she asks, not acting the slightest bit nervous. "I'm sure they have it on their playlist."

I shake my head and hold back a scream. "No, I don't think they do. We should probably just forget the whole thing and sit down."

Hartley makes a big show of rolling her eyes. "We're already up here. We could always wing it if you'd rather?"

My own eyes feel like they're about to pop out of my skull and jump around like bouncy balls across the stage. "We can't wing it—are you insane?"

"What choice do we have?"

"Let's just take our seats," I suggest again. I grab her arm and drag her toward the stairs, but she pulls me in the opposite direction with a surprising amount of force.

"Oh, no you don't! We're doing this—we'll regret it forever if we don't."

"But—" My stomach catapults as I squint into the audience. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"You are not gonna be sick!" She grasps my shoulders and looks me square in the eye. "You are going to be amazing, and you're going to prove it to everyone right now. You said you wanted to be breathtaking, right? Well, I have news for you: it's all a state of mind. If you believe you are breathtaking, then you will be. Now let them see it," she says, nodding toward the crowd.

My throat is so dry I can't mutter a protest. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping this is all a nightmare, but when I open them again, Lady Bijou is sashaying toward us, the long slit in her beaded gown exposing her impossibly long left leg. "All right, darlings. What's it going to be?"

Hartley whips her head in my direction, her blonde ringlets crashing over her shoulder. "Do you remember it?" I shake my head but can tell she doesn't believe me. "Bullshit. I'll bet you still practice in front of the mirror every day."

I swallow hard. Because how could she possibly know that?

"Do you have ..." Hartley whispers into Lady Bijou's ear.

A wide smile makes its way across the performer's face. "But of course! She's every queen's best friend, you know."

"Told you so," my best friend throws back in my direction. "Are you ready, Gwennie?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No," she says, flipping her hair. "I'll start it off and you follow. Then we'll join together for the refrain, just like before. Got it?"

I'm sweating buckets now, and it's not from the blaring lights. "I can't believe you're making me do this."

She grins. "You'll thank me later. I guarantee it."

Before I can respond, the stage lights dim until we're left in total darkness. Hartley pushes me into place.

Oh my God! The world could open up and swallow me whole and I'd be perfectly okay.

From unseen speakers, the first chords of the song begin, and my heart does a complete 360 in my chest. The iconic "Mum mum mum mah" resonates around us, and the floor pulsates beneath our feet. Before the lights have a chance to resurge, I envision myself darting off the stage again and running out the front door. But knowing me, I'd probably land on my face and make an even bigger fool of myself than I'm about to.

And then it's too late to hide.

Giant spotlights flood the stage and Lady Gaga's voice erupts from hidden speakers. "I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas plays ..."

Hartley steps forward, dancing and mouthing her part with the greatest of ease, and I realize I'm not the only one who's been reliving the past in front of the mirror. She exudes a natural confidence and sexuality, the same way the sun radiates light, while I linger in the background, fighting to stay in sync. But my movements are unsure and half-hearted compared to hers.

When we performed this song in front of our classmates, we walked away with a trophy, coming in second place after The Amazing Double-Jointed Boy, who showed off his body-bending tricks during a dramatic composition of Beethoven. But this isn't some stinky middle school gymnasium—this is the real deal.

Hartley maneuvers back to where I'm dancing and together we mouth the refrain, twisting and turning to every step of our choreographed routine. As the lights hum overhead, we crisscross in perfect succession past each other, our arms synchronizing with the beat.

My heart is pounding so loud, everyone staring at me can probably hear it, and before I register what's happening next, I'm stepping forward for my turn.

"I wanna roll with him a hard pair we will be ..."

The crowd morphs like a kaleidoscope under the pulse of lights and I'm shocked to see they're actually smiling. With each word I mouth, a sliver of hope swells in my chest. I prance around the stage, lip-syncing lyrics I know like the back of my hand, and the music takes over, like some out-of-body experience.

I'M.

ACTUALLY.

HAVING.

FUN!

And not just the little giggles sort of fun, but the great big belly-laugh kind. I turn to Hartley and she breaks into a grin.

I'm breathless as we join each other for the final chorus, when something off to the side catches my eye. It's Lady Bijou, and she gives me another wink. For the first time in my life: I feel absolutely invincible.

When our performance comes to an end, Lady Bijou takes the stage and asks for a round of applause, but the audience is already giving us a standing ovation. I push back sweat-soaked hair as we take our seats, hoping I don't look as disheveled as I feel.

"Holy shit, you guys were amazing!" Sully flips his phone towards us and a video of our act appears on the screen. "I'll send it to you," he tells Hartley.

"And I'll send it to you." She touches her damp forehead to mine. "You did it! I knew you had it in you."

I laugh. "We did it," I tell her, still high on adrenaline.

We sit through three more performers—none of them as stunning as Lady Bijou—before we finally have to leave, but I can focus on little else than how incredible it felt to be on stage. I'm barely even aware of Sully sitting beside me.

When we abandon our table, Lady Bijou meets us in the dressing room.

"I'll say it again, darlings" she announces, engulfing me and Hartley in a giant hug. "You were phenomenal. The audience adored you."

My friend nudges my arm. "Now would probably be a good time to thank me," she says smugly.

I hate it when she's right, so I fumble with the pearl on my necklace and look away. "Thank you," I murmur.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" With her hand cupped to the back of her ear, Hartley leans forward as if she's hard of hearing.

I smile. "I said: thank you. You were right. I had fun."

Sully gives me an amused grin. "You knocked it out of the ball park, Miss Ohio."

Heat swamps my cheeks. I try not to be a total chicken and hold his gaze, but like a magnet, my eyes flick to the floor before meeting his. "Thank you."

"Gwendolyn, darling," Lady Bijou begins, "I can't tell you what a pleasure it's been to finally meet you. You're welcome in my establishment anytime. And if you need anything while you're in town—anything at all—you know exactly where to find me."

"Really?" My lips part in surprise. "Um ... thank you."

Hartley clears her throat. "Well, we better get going. Mom'll have a cow if we're not home by 1:00."

I give Lady Bijou a wave, and when I look back at Sully, he's still watching me with a smile.