Crave (Harlequin Teen)

moist heat blasting my face and then the rest of my body as I shuffled down the cement ramp to the parking lot and Nanna’s waiting car.
    “Well, how’d you do?” Nanna asked as I threw myself into the air-conditioned car, the sweat on my skin turning clammy as I put on my seat belt.
    “No clue. I didn’t forget any of the steps, at least.” I should have used my gaze on those two judges. Even just swaying two of the five judges would’ve given me an advantage over the other freshmen dancers.
    “Then you made the team, hon.” She steered the car toward home, her smile confident.
    I couldn’t help it; I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t you a little biased?”
    “Of course I am.” She laughed. “But I’ve also got eyes, don’t I?”
    Which only reminded me of my dumb decision. “Well, I guess we’ll find out in a few hours.”
    “What time do we need to be back here?”
    “At six. But you don’t have to come inside with me. It probably won’t take long.”
    Her sharp gaze flicked my way, and her smile disappeared. “And miss hearing my grandbaby’s name being called out? I don’t think so.”
    Warmth spread in my chest, and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “I think they’ll be calling out numbers, not names.”
    She sniffed. “Same thing. I plan to be there taking lots of pictures for your mother.”
    My mother, who was, as usual, away selling safety products.
    I didn’t know what thought was worse to dwell on for the next four hours…whether I’d made the team, made the wrong choice during my audition or performed too well and made the judges question whether I was even human.
     
    I showered, ate a late lunch and listened to my iPod in an effort not to think. It didn’t work too well.
    At five-thirty, wearing the required outfit, I led Nanna into the gym. We’d arrived half an hour early in the hopes of getting there before everyone else so Nanna could sit on the front row. Her knees were too bad to let her climb up the bleachers.
    We should have gotten there even earlier.
    It seemed everyone else had the same thought. The entire right side of the gym was packed. It looked like every girl had brought at least one of her parents. Some had brought their entire families plus their grandparents. And the expandable bleachers on the left side of the gym were still folded into the wall. At least none of them were Clann families. Maybe the Clann preferred cheerleading instead?
    “Looks like we’ll be standing,” Nanna muttered.
    We stood against the entrance wall near the doors with other similarly unlucky families.
    And waited.
    Thank goodness Nanna was naturally quiet. Mom would have embarrassed us both by chattering nonstop, most likely about things better left unsaid when standing six inches away from strangers.
    But the silence also gave me too much time to think. And wonder. And doubt. And regret.
    Just when I thought I couldn’t stand the inside of my head anymore and would have to find something to talk about with Nanna, the Charmers director entered the gym.
    Funny how fast everyone stopped talking without even being asked.
    “Hello, everyone. My name is Elizabeth Daniels, and I’m the director of the JHS Cherokee Charmers Dance/Drill Team.” She waited for the polite applause to die away then continued. “Since we’re all here for one reason, I’ll just skip right to it, okay?”
    Someone gave an overly excited cheer, making Mrs. Daniels smile as she pulled a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her linen slacks.
    She unfolded the paper and read the numbers, having to pause after each one while families and friends shrieked and cheered in response. Candidate after candidate climbed down from the stands to form a group under the basketball hoop near the entrance. The members gave each other tearful hugs and whispered among themselves, bonding before the new team had even finished being formed.
    Number 101, I thought with rising desperation. Call my number. 101. Please. I belonged with that group. Dancing was everything to me. Where else would I ever fit in except on the dance team? I would keep practicing every day, twice a day, morning and night. I’d work to be the best dancer they’d ever had. Just give me a chance. Call my number.
    “And finally, the last number is…” Mrs. Daniels glanced down at her list. “Number 101.”
    My heart leaped into my throat, cutting off all airflow.
    Mrs. Daniels frowned down at her list. “I’m terribly sorry, that