The girls were already out of their track suits and rocking their shiny silver-with-crochet-trim bodysuits. I stepped out of my track suit fast and walked with the group to the real backstage.

It was showtime.

It was just us and Vanessa backstage. Finally. The moms had gone to their designated seats in the audience to watch and film our performance.

The roar of the crowd sounded arena-size. We listened off-stage, absorbing all the pumped-up energy that came with it.

This was nationals.

We were here. This was what I needed to focus on.

After speaking to the woman with the clipboard, Vanessa turned to us. We huddled around her and hung on to her every word.

“Okay, girls, this is the moment you’ve been training so hard for. You belong here. And for the next five minutes, that stage out there is all yours. So just have fun and let your talent and love for dance shine, inside and out.”

At the end of her talk, I noticed for the first time that we were all holding hands. Trina was on my right, Riley was to my left, and directly across was Megan. She and I caught each other’s eyes and held them for a moment, connecting in a more peaceful way than the scene ten minutes ago.

Had Vanessa witnessed that, she would have been livid. I thought of her special request that we conduct ourselves as professionals. I hoped to make that up with a flawless routine now.

“DanceStarz on three!” I called out with my hand in the center of the huddle, palm faced down.

Lily was the first to stack her hand on top of mine. We looked at each other and smiled. Megan was next, followed by Riley, Trina, and Vanessa.

“DanceStarz!” we all shouted.

The group onstage ended their routine in a pyramid pose—which was tricky to hold for as long as they were currently doing. They waited for the applause to pick up before coming out of the pose to wave at the crowd. They exited to the opposite end of the stage.

The MC jumped into action, excited. His words reverberated throughout the ballroom. “Let them hear how much you enjoyed that!”

Riley made a strange sound that was a mix of a gasp and one of her cat’s furballs getting stuck in her throat.

Vanessa went into EMT mode. “You need water? Are you okay?”

I patted Riley’s back. The rest of the girls looked at each other in panic. Oh, no. This was not a good time for an emergency. But Riley nodded and shooed us back to give her some room.

“The MC,” she said between breaths, her hand on her chest. “I recognize his voice. It’s . . . it’s Trey Thompson!”

I shook my head. “Seriously, Riley?”

“It is?” Trina asked, intrigued. She tiptoed near the stage curtain to steal a peek at him. Then she looked back at us and nodded. Whoa!

“I WAS RIGHT!” Riley said, beaming. “My Trey-dar was going off!”