First Comes Like #Wattys2020

27

TWENTY SEVEN

The auditorium fills with applause a 'boys-only' dance group trudges breathlessly off stage after performing. I grab my mic and make my way back onto the stage, alone, because Dean disappeared just before the performance started and hasn't returned. 

It's another day of no class and yet the auditorium is packed. We were nervous that people wouldn't show up (why come to school when we don't have too?) but everyone is here and the best part is that they want to be.

From my spot on the stage, I can see everything, from Ms Fitz and Mr Daniel whispering in a corner, to Gat who's being creepy (and cute) by staring at the back of Macey's head like that'll make her turn around and fall in love with him again. 

Even though I'm convinced she is. In love with him, I mean. But I won't get into any Gatwick and Macey theories.

I also spot Cole, talking to some poor unsuspecting girl who has clearly fallen for his dimples and hopefully nothing else. He looks up and catches me staring, then winks before I can look away. It makes me so angry that I want to fling the mic and hit him smack! in the forehead (maybe that'll knock some sense into him). But instead, I smile at the crowd and announce the next performance. 

It's Max Fisher, doing a poem called: To the Girl Who Owes Me A Dollar Or Another Kiss.

I stand to the side of the stage and listen to him speak in that voice he saves just for poems. I smile when I remember the kissing booth incident at the mini fair, especially when I spot the girl, Lily, looking at Max with big dazed eyes.

"In fact, keep the dollar." Max says, making the point of turning to look in Lily's direction, "And give me your love instead."

Aw.

Someone cheers at that line. I think it's my History teacher. Just as Max finishes and there's applause once again, someone grabs my hand and stops me from getting back on stage. "I'm back."

Dean.

Turning to face him I say, "Two hours later." and then I smile at him so he knows I'm not mad at him.

"Someone can't tell the time." He takes the mic from me and grins. "I'll do the next one." 

I nod and watch him get back onto the stage. Next to me, a group of girls are doing vocal warm ups. Their ahhs, ohhs and umms are distracting. I mentally block it out and look towards the stage. But instead of Dean standing there announcing the next performance, he's seated, a mic on a stand in font of him, and a guitar slung around his shoulder.

Wait.

What?

"This isn't my song, guys." Dean licks his lips, "Obviously." He laughs.

It's not funny.

Dean Pinkette is nervous and it's so cute. He clears his throat and looks down at his guitar and strums a few notes. I hear him take a deep breath. And then he sings. And his voice is beautiful.

"Hey there Delilah, what's it like in New York City? You're a thousand miles away but girl tonight you look so pretty, Yes you do..."

My heart beat slows down then beats so fast and loud, for a moment I'm afraid everyone can hear it. I have to take a deep breath to calm myself down.