Suddenly the fact that Luke asked me to the dance seems like some sort of honor, like it’s a miracle he even noticed me, let alone asked me out. I’m not normally one to look at the people around me like we’re all ranked, but when I watched Luke perform, he definitely seemed like he was on an entirely different level. Out of my league.

If only I could convince myself that my singing actually was good enough to capture his attention.

Right after their act, the contortionists take the stage. My excitement from before immediately melts into a sick sort of envy.

The Triplets are stunning. They’re wearing sleek checkerboard-sequined leotards and perform on a raised golden pedestal. When the music starts, they begin twisting all over one another, contorting into moves I’m pretty certain aren’t humanly possible. I hear Tyler mutter, “Cyborgs,” beside me, and I stifle a laugh. But it’s hard to make fun of them; their act is solid. I sit through the entire thing with my mouth agape and this growing knot in my chest.

This is why Branden chose her, I think, as Megan does a one-armed handstand on top of her sister’s raised leg. She’s talented. She’s more than talented. She’s a goddess. She takes risks. And you were too scared to climb a stupid ladder. What made you think you had a chance?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that I’m my worst enemy. I can’t focus on the rest of the contortion act once those vile thoughts seep into my mind. Thankfully, the act is up before I can get too aggravated—both at Megan’s smug grin and my own frustrating lack of courage. The next group to go on is the clowns again, but their skit is dulled by the dialogue racing back and forth in my head.

I should have just climbed that dumb ladder. Then Branden would have chosen me and I wouldn’t be sitting here, wishing I was good enough.

But then some small, rational voice in me whispers that I shouldn’t have to try so hard, that I should just be myself. After a few rounds of this back-and-forth, I realize it’s not just about Branden. This is about me. This is about being good enough for myself.

Not climbing that ladder meant I copped out on the one dream I’d been harboring for years. Branden was just a side note. The real disappointment was that I’d given up on myself.

And I wouldn’t have another chance to make it right.

Riley taps me on the arm, snapping me from my reverie. I glance at her to ask what she wants, then catch the movement on the stage.

Branden.

It’s time for the flying trapeze routine. Time to see just what, precisely, I was missing out on by being a coward.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Watching Branden do his routine is just another reminder of how far out of my league he is. After the coaches confer for a few minutes about the choreography and the flying trapeze net is rigged in place, he and the other performers begin climbing the rope ladders on each side of the ring. Branden goes up and mounts a trapeze first, flipping himself upside down and latching his legs to the bar. Just watching him makes my heart soar up into my throat. Vertigo snakes its way through my chest. My palms go cold and break into a sweat.

Branden swings back and forth a few times while another guy climbs up and grabs the trapeze on the other side of the ring. Branden claps his hands and the other guy jumps out on the trapeze, swinging fast toward Branden, until he reaches his peak and lets go, doing a double flip in the air and catching Branden’s hands. My terrified heart stops during the entirety of that leap, right until the two boys’ hands clasp and it’s clear no one’s going to fall to their deaths.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Megan whispers from behind. I can practically hear the smile in her words. “So talented. So brave. I’m so lucky he asked me to the dance. I can’t wait.”

If my jaw clamped any tighter, my teeth would grind to dust. Branden switches off with another performer, completely oblivious to the two girls quietly warring it out over him less than fifty feet away.

At that moment, Riley steps in—she turns around in her seat and gives Megan a death glare.

“If you don’t shut up,” Riley whispers, “I’m going to use your eyes as juggling balls. Got it?”

Megan just laughs to herself and leans back in the bleachers. She smiles and waves, and my attention goes back to the center ring. Branden is staring right at us. He looks concerned.

Probably because Riley’s face is almost as red as her hair. I think she’s angrier than I am.

I shake my head and take a deep breath, try to force down the fight-or-flight response that—for the first time ever—seems to be geared toward fight. I don’t know how Megan manages to get under my skin so easily, but I’m more than ready to have her out of my life. I try to focus on the trapeze artists. Well, all of them except for Branden, who’s once more grabbing the trapeze and swinging across the ring. My palms are still freezing with vertigo. What made me think I could ever do that?

Maybe that’s why Branden didn’t ask you out. If only I could get Megan’s taunts out of my head. I think I’d have a greater chance of getting her to apologize—like I said, I am my own worst enemy. And that’s including Megan on the list.

The trapeze act finishes with every performer taking turns on the trapeze bars and doing insane flips, then plummeting to the net below. My pulse speeds up every single time they dismount. By the end, I’m actually a little glad it’s over; I don’t think I could handle much more adrenaline.

I don’t know what brought on the switch. I always loved watching the flying trapeze before this, always daydreamed of doing all the daring tricks and flips. Maybe it’s because I now know just how terrifying it is up there. Well, sort of. Halfway up the ladder doesn’t really count.

The trapeze group filters off to the bleachers. Branden gives one more glance my way—or maybe it’s at Megan, hard to tell and I don’t really want to know—before sitting down beside Luke. Uh-oh. I know it’s conceited to think they’re talking about me, but when they both glance over, I can’t help but think the worst. At least neither of them starts laughing and pointing.

Not that I know why they’d do that, but if this were a movie, it would be a prime moment for some embarrassing gesture, when Branden convinces Luke he picked the wrong girl.

“Nice work, everyone,” says Olga. She steps center ring, commanding everyone’s attention. “That went incredibly smoothly, especially for a first run. Now we’re going to take a ten-minute break to reset the ring for the second act. We have some snacks just outside the tent if you’d like to go stretch your legs. See you in a few.”

Then she walks over to some of the coaches.

“Come on,” Riley says as she stands. She grabs my arm and pulls me up, nearly dragging me out of the bleachers.

“You’re going to rip my arm off,” I mutter. But I don’t drag my feet. I don’t want to be sitting in those bleachers in front of Megan either.

Once we get outside, Riley heads straight to the snack table, which is covered in fresh fruit and granola bars and juice. She grabs an apple and stalks away from the crowd. I grab a granola bar and follow.

“I can’t stand her,” she says. She doesn’t take a bite of the apple; she just tosses it back and forth between her hands. I’d never seen angry juggling before. Now I have. “I hope she falls on her stupid pretty face tomorrow.”

“Jeez,” I mutter. I snatch the apple from her, mid-toss, and bite it. “I thought I was supposed to be the angry one. I mean, she did steal my guy.”

“I know. That’s part of it. But she’s just so . . . ugh!” She actually stomps her foot, her hands balled into fists. “She’s so condescending and entitled and I hate her.”