The music stopped.
“Again.”
Eleven-year-old Lily stood alone beneath the stage lights.
The rest of the school choir watched from the risers.
Ms. Crane sat in the front row.
“Start at measure twenty-two.”
Lily’s mouth was dry.
She began.
The first notes were quiet but correct.
Then her voice cracked.
A few students looked down.
Ms. Crane sighed.
“Again.”
Lily’s eyes filled.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“My throat hurts.”
“It hurts because you’re afraid.”
Lily shook her head.
She had been sick for three days.
Her mother wanted her to stay home.
But the winter concert was tomorrow, and Ms. Crane warned that missing the final rehearsal could cost Lily her solo.
She came anyway.
Now the director had made her repeat the same passage eleven times.
“Again.”
A boy named Evan whispered from the risers, “Leave her alone.”
Ms. Crane looked up.
“What?”
Nobody spoke.
Lily wished he hadn’t said anything.
