Even Rinn could not have anticipated this reaction, and that was saying something, because Rinn was the most positive person Daniella knew. Between their two followings, people had shown up. Also Rinn, with all her hustle and drive, had converted many of the Brock Harvey fans into Wild Nights fans. They were sitting in the chairs, waiting for the event to start. They were relatively good-natured considering the tone of the event had shifted dramatically.

So many people had showed up. What was it Rinn had said? Book people rally. She hadn’t been kidding in the slightest.

The store was flooded with people.

Daniella was positive that she was going to vomit this time, and none of it was due to her hangover, which was now gone, or Imogen’s hair, which had finally been cleaned up out of the bathroom. Forget her earlier bravery. Forget her outing herself as Anachronistic Blonde. Forget all of that confidence she had briefly built.

Daniella was going to throw up.

She was going to fail and she was going to fail by throwing up on the entire audience and there was nothing she could do about it. Her hand was already cramping from all the poems and doodles that she had drawn to ease her nerves before the performance. Her throat was constricting. And there were little spots popping in and out of her vision. She felt sweaty, everywhere, from her armpits to her hands to her hairline. Oh God oh God oh God oh God Daniella wished she knew who was the saint of poetry. Her mother was mostly obsessed with the martyrs. Daniella started reciting those in her head, using the rhythm of the familiar to lull her nerves, but it wasn’t working. The martyrs had never failed her before.

That’s when she felt a gentle hand at the back of her shoulder. “Hey.”

It was Eli.

“I know you hate me right now,” he said. “But could you take a deep breath? You look like you’re about to hurl.”

“I am about to hurl.” But then the talking had forced Daniella to take a deep breath and man had that helped, even if she didn’t want to listen to him at all.

“Look,” he said. “I’m going to go warm them up. You got this. And trust me, they’ll love you after they hear what I have to say.”

Daniella glared at him. But the anger was better than the absolute terror, so she held on to it. Grabbed hold of the rage.

“Yup, that’s it. Just be mad at me. You’ve got this.” And then Eli grinned and alighted onto the makeshift stage.