“Sounds good.” Mr. Davidson waved them up onto the stage. “Get on up there.”

Sarah and Tanner marched up to the front of the stage. Gilly’s head seemed to scoot down in her seat. Maybe she didn’t want to be there?

As Sarah got up onstage I noted that she was wearing a long blue dress with a white collar, her hair brushed into a soft blond swirl that fell around her neck.

She looked really nice. She looked. . .like she was in costume.

Sarah stepped up to the front of the stage and gazed out into the audience, purposefully wistful. I mean I’m not a huge fan of Our Town, but Sarah did look like Emily, and when she held her hand to her heart and delivered her lines, she sounded like Emily.

Mr. Davidson, who had walked backward up the aisle as she and Tanner delivered their lines, clapped loudly as they finished. Sarah took a very deep and graceful bow and Tanner did a little short one and then they hopped off the stage and took seats on the other side of the aisle.

Okay, so Sarah and Tanner had some chops. The world is a surprising place.

“Very well done,” Mr. Davidson boomed, “Very well done.”

He turned, pointed at me with his clipboard. “Anne, you’re next.”

I stood up abruptly, my knee knocking the seats as I scooted out of my row. I deep-breathed calm into my body as I headed down the aisle. I was a few steps from the stage, walking toward Mr. Davidson, when suddenly I felt something hard hit my foot, coordinated with someone calling out:

“Whoops!”

I flew forward into the dark, catching sight of Mr. Davidson’s horrified face as he leaped forward to grab me before I took a total header. My wrist got the hard end of his clipboard as we both struggled to get to our feet, while snickers rolled over the audience behind us. A somewhat familiar, hissing voice cut through it all.

“Tanner! What the fuck?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Tanner snapped. “I didn’t do anything.”

Mr. Davidson managed to get his footing and haul me to my feet, a human bag of flustered.

“Are you all right, Anne?” he asked, looking up. “What happened?”

Gilly was standing in front of her seat. She looked at me, and then at Tanner, who threw his hands up.

“I don’t know! She must have tripped,” he said.

Sarah stood. “I saw it,” she said. “Anne just tripped on her shoe or something.”

I tugged my turtleneck back into place and tried to wipe the sweat out of my eyes. Mr. Davidson tightened his grip on my hand. “Do you need a moment, Anne?”

“No.”

I roller-skate and I have taken part in my share of performance art. You need to do a little more than stick your foot out to get in my way, Tanner Spencer.