24 . . . the charlotte blue

                                    

                                          
9.00 𝑷𝑴 | ♜ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝘃.
𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗔 hours of preparation, night had fallen, the clock ticking to 9:00 PM. The dressing room, though still filled with girls, was quieter now, with everyone finally ready. Soft conversations floated through the space, interrupted only when Ms. Love, Class B's soprano teacher, walked in. Dressed in a black suit and her signature square glasses, she exuded excitement.
"Alright, girls, we're ready! Sorry for keeping you in here so long," she began, her voice lifting the mood. "Here's how it's going to work: Everyone, except the soloists, will perform in their group acts first. You'll each be graded individually on stage, from 1 to 10. After that, the soloists will perform and also be graded. Once everyone has performed, you'll all go on stage—yes, everyone, boys and girls—for a final bow. Some of your parents have flown in to see your progress, so show them how beautiful your voices are. If your score is below a 6, you're cut, and you'll be heading home on the pre-paid plane tonight. If you pass, you'll stay until tomorrow morning. Got it?"
She paused, scanning the room to make sure everyone understood before smiling brightly. "Alright, if you weren't called as a soloist, follow me!" The energy in the room shifted as the girls erupted into cheers and laughter, filing out after Ms. Love. I exchanged quick good-lucks with Eloise and Jenny before they disappeared through the door.
Now, only the soloists remained. A tense silence settled over the room as the girls either practiced quietly to themselves or stared at the TV in the corner, which was streaming the competition live for everyone in the country. It was intimidating, to say the least, but I tried to shake off the nerves.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Amily watching me, just as I had been watching her. Her gaze lingered for a moment before she turned back to the screen. We watched together as the group performances unfolded—Eloise and Jenny scored 8s, and Lidia earned a 9. I was proud of them. The boys followed, belting out their songs with passion. Cedric, Lochan, and Whit all scored 7s, ensuring there wasn't too much competition between them.
As the recap played over and over, the tension in the room grew. Then, Ms. Love returned, opening the door and calling us to the stage. "Let's go, girls!"
We all stood, adjusting our dresses and checking our reflections one last time. I grabbed something from the table, slipping it into my pocket as discreetly as possible, hoping no one noticed. Ms. Love led us down the hallway to the side stage, where the atmosphere was charged with energy. The stage lights illuminated the area in stark contrast to the pitch-black audience beyond. Rows of tables, just as Ms. Luz had described, filled the outdoor venue, resting on perfectly manicured grass. My nerves were manageable until I spotted the judges' table: Teacher Nottingham, Mr. Crosby (an opera veteran), and Lily Rei, the hottest opera singer of the moment. I was about to perform in front of her. My breath caught as I tried to steady myself.
The intercom fell silent, and Teacher Nottingham's voice filled the space. "We will now hear the soloists for the 28th Annual SJA Beginner Stones. Up first is Regan Long."
Applause filled the night, but as Regan stepped forward, she collapsed. Panic rippled through the group as a girl rushed to her side, trying to rouse her. Ms. Love quickly called for paramedics, who whisked Regan away. After a brief exchange on her earpiece, Ms. Love called the next name.
"Um... ok... up next is Amily Watkins!"
Without a hint of hesitation, Amily strode onto the stage, poised and confident. The opening notes of "Fly Me to the Moon" (opera) began to play, and she sang beautifully, her voice filling the air with grace. The audience clapped along, enchanted by her talent. She smiled, and it was perfect. When she finished, the crowd erupted in cheers, and one of the judges stood to speak.
"10. Very good job, Amily. You have a true gift," Lily Rei praised, awarding her a well-deserved score. Amily bowed graciously before heading to the tables in the audience, where Whit and Lidia were undoubtedly showering her with congratulations.
Then, it was my turn.
"Now we have, Charlotte Leon!" Teacher Nottingham announced, and the crowd cheered as I stepped onto the stage. My heart raced, my legs shaky beneath my sparkling white YSL dress. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself as the opening chords of an opera rendition of Beyoncé's "Blue" began to play.
I grabbed the microphone, staring out into the darkness, and poured every ounce of emotion I had into the song. Every feeling I had for Amily—love, sadness, anger, guilt, obsession, happiness, and grief—flowed through my voice. Tears blurred my vision as I reached the final note, delivering it with all the strength I had left.
The crowd erupted in a standing ovation, but I barely registered it. I didn't notice Lily Rei's tears or my mother's proud cheers from the audience. My focus was elsewhere, on something far more important.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the kitchen knife I had taken from the dressing room. Without a second thought, I plunged it into my heart, twisting it deep.