He leaned forward to kiss me.

"Hey," we heard Steven call from behind us. He walked our way. "You're not supposed to rile up the performers before the show."

Chandler and I laughed.

But up in a window on the third floor, someone stood watching us,

It looked like the young woman we had seen. A moment later, she was gone.

It put a dark shadow over me.

I embraced myself quickly. seized Chandler's hand, and continued on. with Steven chattering beside us like some bird enjoying an hour out of its cage.

10 Performance light

Ms. Fairchild gave us the program and schedule of performances for the evening. Steven was to be first, but it didn't seem to bother him at all. Maybe it was better to be as nonchalant

and uncaring as he appeared to be. I thought, I was third. after Ice. Rose was scheduled to dance before Howard and Cinnamon were to end the evening. with their scenes.

We had another light dinner, as Madame Senetsky had ordered, and then we all went up to dress for our performances. Just before eight, the six of us marched down the stairs and gathered with Ms. Fairchild in the little theater. The first row had been reserved for our teachers.

Evan was already there and set up in an area to the right of the last row when we all arrived. It was the only place where he could fit with his wheelchair because Madame Senetsky wouldn't permit him to sit in an aisle, even down front.

Ms. Fairchild had the audacity to tell Rose that this was a private school and not required to make accommodations for handicapped people. Rose was upset. but Evan assured her, in such a small theater, there was no problem where anyone sat.

Before anyone else arrived. Madame Senetsky ushered us backstage. She was angry about us being out front talking with Evan.

"Never, never mingle with your audience before a performance," she lectured us offstage. "You will destroy that illusion, that magical way in which the people see you as special, as larger than life, sparkling in the spotlights."

"He's only my brother," Rose protested. "When you're on the stage, you are no longer anyone's sister, anyone's brother, son, or daughter."

"Or mother," Cinnamon muttered loud enough for her to hear. She glared at her a moment and then nodded.

"Precisely, or mother or father. Now let's all attend to our business at hand." she said. "I have to greet our guests."

Ice and Rose went into an antechamber to go through their warm-ups. Steven didn't want to do anything, and I was afraid to touch my violin before my appointed time. Howard wanted Cinnamon to review their lines, but she didn't want to. saying, "If we don't now it by now, Howard, five more minutes isn't going to matter very much."

Still, he went off on his own and carried on as if she was there with him behind the curtains, reciting her lines as well as his own,

"What happened to our confident. stomachnever-full-of-butterflies Howard Rockwell the Third?" Cinnamon quipped.

Everyone who heard her smiled, but we didn't seem to have the strength to overcome our jitters and laugh.

People were arriving! We could hear the low murmur of their voices as they filled the little theater.

Why this should be any more unnerving and frightening to me than the times I played before much larger audiences in Ohio, I didn't know, but it certainly was. I felt tingling and buzzing in places I had never felt them. My throat kept getting so dry. my tongue scratched the roof of my mouth as harshly as it would had a piece of sandpaper been stuck on it.

"Don't drink so much water," Ms. Fairchild snapped at me. "You'll have to pee while you're performing and it will ruin your concentration."

I spit out what was in my mouth. What a horrible image, I thought.

Madame Senetsky came backstage to look us all over one more time before the Performance Evening was to begin. She, herself, was going to do the introductory speech, greeting her audience and explaining the program. Before she stepped onto the stage, she looked so hard at each and every one of us. I was sure she would spot a strand of hair out of place. She nodded approvingly at the others, but paused in front of me, her eyes seeming to shrink in her shill. What was wrong? Did I have something on my face, a button undone?

"Before you go into the reception, come back here and wait for me," she ordered.

"Why?"

She didn't reply. She turned, nodded at Laura Fairchild, and then stepped into the wing of the little theater's stage. She paused, sucked in her breath. which lifted her shoulders, and then walked out. There was loud applause.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Shooting Stars Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net