It had been weeks since I’d seen Kent at the coffee shop. Weeks of pouring over what he’d said to me. And what he hadn’t said. Something in my gut told me that he had been waiting for me to admit to him that I was in love with him and that I wanted him to leave Jen behind and be with me. He hadn’t said he’d wanted to be with Jen until death parted them.

I’d written song after song about him, about us, and about our future. It helped immensely to sort out my feelings. When I wasn’t pouring over my notebook or plunking the piano keys in the music room, I was with Stacy. We’d grown closer and closer. I’d told her about that night with Kent and everything that had ever happened between us. She was the only one who knew how I truly felt about him.

But tonight was different. Tonight I was going to let everyone know about my feelings for him. The thought that he might be in the audience only excited me more. The music study final performance was a bi-annual event and generated much needed income for the music department. They spared no cost in advertising on campus and off.

I waited backstage for my turn and I was oddly calm. Usually I was buzzed before a performance. The adrenaline would take over and push me through, but not this time.

This time I felt sure. Absolutely sure. I hadn’t felt so sure about anything in my whole life except for choosing music as my major. I would perform my ode to Kent in front of everyone. And then when it was over I’d perform it privately for him. And beg him to do what was right. Beg him to choose me and give us a chance. Because I knew in my heart that we were meant to be together. Jen was just practice. And a placeholder.

I smiled and clapped from stage left as Bethy finished her violin composition.

“Great job,” I whispered as she passed by me.

She squeezed my arm gently. “Good luck, Elly.”

She kept walking, and I turned my attention back to the stage. The lights dimmed, and the spotlight moved to meet me. The crowd that had gathered for a couple hours of entertainment went silent. I inhaled deeply. Exhaled deeply. It was time.

I knew my mother was out there somewhere, probably holding up a video camera, so I had to make sure that it was perfect and inspiring. I sat down at the piano and positioned my hands over the keys. I leaned forward and spoke softly in the mic. “My name is Elly Palmer, and this is my final composition of the year. It’s titled “Plea.””