Liska swayed back and forth, her guitar swinging across her chest, held up by the strap around her neck. She tried to peer around Ephy, whose height was once again hindering Liska from seeing anything.

  Airin stood beside Liska, wearing a long grey tunic and wide-legged white pants. Guess they decided to really play up the colorless banshee image.

  Will this work? Liska’s stomach felt like both her little brothers were jumping up and down on it. She shook out her hands and stood on her toes again to see if she could see anything past Ephy.

  It was dark backstage, but the group performing was in front of the curtain, doing some sort of mime. Someone really did mime. Is that really still a thing?

  There were slight titters from the audience, but it didn’t sound like it was going well. Oliver’s group was up next, but Jetstream suite had lined up on the other side of the stage, so at least she didn’t have to see Oliver’s annoying smirk.

  Liska tried not to rub her eyes. They had stayed up late perfecting their performance. Ephy had ringed Liska’s eyes with black eyeliner that she said would show up well under the stage lights. Airin refused to wear anything more than base makeup and some blush, but it gave them an ethereal look that Ephy declared was acceptable.

  It feels like we’ve known each other forever. But it had only been a month. Liska felt older now. Wiser. More accomplished.

  The word “accomplished” rang in her head. Her older sister Ayla liked to watch shows set in past times, where they were always talking about women being accomplished in music or art. But that was only a part of who Liska was. She could dance, sing, play guitar and ukulele, write songs, and make friends easily.

  The group on stage finished their performance, and audience clapped politely. There were a few screams and cheers, but it sounded like the audience wasn’t very impressed. Oliver’s suite was next, and they would probably be very prepared. Airin had told Liska that Oliver practiced the cello non-stop at home.

  The group filed off the stage past Liska, and one girl gave Liska a weak smile. She seemed unhappy with their performance. “Break a leg out there,” she said, laughing nervously.

  One of the other members of her group, a student with curly hair and androgynous features and clothing, rolled their eyes. Liska recognized them from shifter class as a cat shifter. Kyle? Kale? Something like that.

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  The last member of their group was a girl with long, dark hair and pale skin. “I can’t believe you all! You didn’t even try! They hated us!”

  The first girl snapped, “Alice, this was your idea. We didn’t want to do it in the first place. We haven’t been trained in it. We wanted to do something that combined our talents.”

  Alice flushed so darkly that it was visible even in the dark backstage. “Bunch of incompetents I have to work with in my suite!”

  She ripped off the mic that was taped to her face and threw it on the ground.

  The stage manager, a teacher that Liska only knew as Edward, rushed forward and snatched the mic off the ground, peering at it closely. “That’s enough! You’ve damaged expensive stage equipment. You are disqualified.”

  “My father will pay for it! He’s a board member at this school, you know. He probably bought that mic to begin with. And I will make sure that you are fired!” Alice raged at the teacher, who just looked back at her, dumbfounded.

  Murmurs from the audience told Liska that they could hear some of what was going on backstage.

  Edward walked up to the arguing group, holding the mic. “Alice Worthington, stop this instant, or I will call your mother immediately and tell her how you have been acting.”

  Alice scowled at him. “My dad will have you fired!”

  He laughed. “Sure, he will. Right after the principal tells him how much he has to pay to replace the equipment you broke.”

  After Edward escorted Alice out of the backstage area, Liska fiddled with her face mic and bounced on her toes, shaking her hands to keep them loose.

  Oliver’s quad set up on stage. Oliver was adjusting his music stand by tiny increments, and the student who opened the curtain waited for him to finish. The violinist had taken up a place beside Oliver, but he had no music or stand.

  They had dropped a backdrop of a city landscape, and vibrant peach lights had come up behind the curtain. As Liska leaned to peer around the curtain, she nearly lost her balance.

  One of the dancers from Oliver’s suite murmured “Excuse me” and pushed past Liska to stand in the wings. Finally, Oliver nodded, and the curtain opened.

  First Oliver and the violinist played a theme together, then each played it alone, and then they played it again together, but slower. The theme was lively and bright. As they held the last note, a backing track kicked in. It was mainly synth and drums, and Oliver and his suitemate played over it.

  The dancer on the other side of the stage ran out and began to dance. He was good. Very good. His moves were sharp and precise and perfectly in rhythm.

  Liska let the music wash over her. The violin and cello were dancing all on their own, while the backing track made Liska bounce faster on her toes.

  The other dancer ran out and up to his partner. He jumped up and, using the other dancer’s knee as a step, did a back flip. The crowd ooohhh’d, and there was some applause.

  Her family would have loved this performance.

  A sour taste filled Liska’s mouth. Zephyr’s performance wouldn’t appeal to the Renards, because there was no dancing in it. What was Hunter going to say about it?

  Too soon, the music ended, and Jetstream suite took their bows.

  Zephyr was next.