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Post by orinocoflow on Jan 1, 2011 21:05:49 GMT -5
i have totally forgotten about this story! Okay, i'll see what i can do with the next update. this is almost the end!
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Post by orinocoflow on Jan 2, 2011 18:34:43 GMT -5
Sorry its short, but I like cliffhangers! Ron leaned close and hissed into his ear, “So, you saw your girlfriend, huh? Wonder what she thinks of what happened in here. Of course, she won't be alone,” he added with a laugh, nodding at the rest of the students as they turned to see Paul dancing with a different girl. Immediately, whispers and rumors spread like a wild fire through the group. Paul struggled in vain as Ron held him tightly without actually seeming to even be touching him and the girl moved closer to him, too close for comfort, until she was completely up against him. Swallowing hard as he realized that he was trapped, Paul looked around for a way out…until he saw Ron’s henchmen following Shay out the door. Ron laughed as Paul lunged forward, brutally turning his wrists to keep him there, and the tenor winced as pain lanced up his arms. The only way to ease it was by moving back, which was exactly what the football player wanted. “Oh, you’re worried about her? Don’t be; my friends will make sure nothing happens to her,” he chortled with a wicked wink at the girl. Smiling, she curled her fingers through Paul’s ruffled hair at the back of his neck, holding him in place with a none-too-light tug. Finally, the song was over, and Paul made a run for it; unfortunately, freedom came with a price, and he ran out of the crowd with throbbing arms and a sharp pain at the back of his head that faded quickly. “Shay! Where are you?” he called, slipping into his own coat while running down the stairs two at a time. Only silence met his words, but then he heard a strange sound to the right, near the parking lot. Not waiting for another prompt, he sprinted in that direction, not hearing the heavy footfalls behind him. Coming to the parking lot, he saw the three guys holding Shay tightly on the sidewalk beside one of the cars. Not realizing where the speed came from, he tore down the blacktop, clearing a bench with a foot to spare and flinging himself at them, hands curled into fists, but when they saw him they turned tail and ran away before he could do anything. “Are you alright?” he asked Shay, gently pulling her into his arms, but she pushed away from him. “Well, aren’t you the hero!” she snapped, backing away from him. “First you go dance with that—that—” she broke off, unable to say anything, and then turned and stalked away, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Shay! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do anything! I—“ “Oh, right, you were completely innocent,” she retorted. “I so believe that!” “It’s the truth!” he yelled, catching up to her, but she pushed him away again and ran down the sidewalk. Slowing, Paul stared after her, coming to a stop in the middle of the parking lot. “Why can't anything go right?” he muttered. “I wish this had never happened! Why can't I be back where I had been?!” A few feet away, the surface of a pond near the parking lot shimmered as though a breeze had rippled its surface, but there was no wind that night. Grinding his teeth, Paul turned and walked back to the dorms, not seeing where he was going until he heard an engine rev. Looking up, he had just enough time to see Ron behind the wheel as he gunned his car straight for the tenor in the middle of the road before the headlights blinded him and excruciating pain hit him in the legs, sending him flying, the windshield looming in front of his face… And then nothing. * * *
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Post by celticbear on Jan 2, 2011 22:01:30 GMT -5
Ori! something tells me Paul is about to return to either before the nasty trick happened or he is about to return to his CT life! UPDATE SOON! PLEASE!
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Post by orinocoflow on Jan 2, 2011 22:04:25 GMT -5
dont spoil it!!! although you did give me an idea...nah, i wont do it. too much typing, haha
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Post by celticbear on Jan 2, 2011 22:17:02 GMT -5
Sorry Ori! You know me! I call it like I see it. LOL!
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Post by orinocoflow on Jan 3, 2011 18:14:08 GMT -5
When Paul awoke, he gasped and sat up, panting, a sheen of sweat on his bare chest. Looking down at his legs, he frowned when he saw that they were fine…and the covers looked a lot like hotel sheets…and he was no longer lanky and leanly muscled… “You okay, Byrom?” came a deep, groggy voice from across the room. “M-Marc?” he asked tentatively. There was a pause, and then the lights came on and a dark-haired teenager sat up and stared at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? ‘Cause last time I checked, my name was Damien. And why are you so pale?” he asked, eyeing his friend, but all Paul could do was look around, swallowing hard. There was a rustle of sheets, and then Ryan sat up in his bed, blinking sleepily. “What’s up?” he asked, yawning. “I-I think I had a nightmare,” stuttered Paul. “But that seemed so bloody real!” he exclaimed, glancing around the room. Hesitating, he met their confused gazes, wincing when he saw the concern in Ryan’s eyes. “You sure you’re okay?” “Guys, humor me—what’s the date?” When they told him, Paul nodded slowly and fell back onto the sheets, groaning when his head hit the wall hard. Rolling onto his side, he tried to go back to sleep, but it would not claim him. Tomorrow, I am definitely going to do some research, he thought, wondering if everything had been a dream. * * * Okay, so Homeland High School does exist, and we are going to have a concert near there in a few days, he thought, reading the article he had just found. On a whim, he ran “Shayde Finnegan” through the database, surprised when she popped up on his list—as a teacher. A few days later, they had the whole day before the show that evening, and Paul hitched a ride to the high school. It was empty except for staff, and he went straight to the office. “Hi,” he said, coming inside, but then his throat went dry when he saw that the dean who came up to help him was the one he knew so well…from his dreams. They had to have been dreams, right? Ten minutes later, he was standing in front of a door, his hand poised to knock on it, but he could not bring himself to do that. Finally, he decided to leave when it suddenly opened, hitting him hard on the forehead. With a grunt, he staggered back, rubbing vigorously as a hand came to rest on his shoulder and he heard a familiar voice say, “I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t see you there! Are you alright?” When he lowered his hand and met a pair of rich brown eyes with a reddish taint, they both froze, staring at each other. “Oh my god,” she whispered, taking a step backwards. “I-I thought it was a dream…” “So it’s not just me?” Paul jumped at the words, his eyes not leaving hers. “I had really seen you? That whole thing? All of it?” Shay swallowed. “You were younger, about seventeen, with a beautiful tenor voice…and a guy named Ron…” she looked down at his legs, then back up to his face. “He ran you over in the parking lot during the Homecoming dance when I ran out…” Paul nodded, a chill spreading through him. “Yes, that’s it, that’s it. And it really wasn’t my fault,” he added. She nodded. “I know, Ron told me after he got out of the car. After—” she broke off, tears coming to her eyes at the memory. “You were gone right away,” she whispered hoarsely. They stood there for a few minutes, not sure how to continue, and then she took a step closer. Catching her move, he looked into her eyes before coming up and placing both hands on her shoulders. An instant later, they were hugging tightly like long-lost friends, Shay crying into his shirt as he held her as hard as he dared, not wanting to hurt her, but yet not wanting to release her either. “I’m not letting you go this time,” he murmured. Pulling away just enough to see her face, he met her gaze again. “Come with me, for good this time. I can't let you go again.” A moment later, she nodded numbly. “Me neither.” And that was that. A couple hours later, the rest of the guys had been introduced to her, and although they didn’t ask questions about how quickly this happened or where she had come from, it was obvious in their eyes that they had a million things they wanted to ask him. But no matter how many questions they asked, Paul never told them about what happened, although he and Shay shared both sides of their stories with each other. There was once a great phrase he used to have with his friends: “What happens by the pond stays by the pond.” And that was exactly how this was to be. THE END. this is not done--i want t ogo back and write up some more ideas for when he was in high school since I have a few situations I want to put him into, so dont ditch this story just yet!
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Post by celticbear on Jan 3, 2011 23:51:18 GMT -5
That's fine with me Ori! as long as you keep the ending a Happy one for Paul and Shay! Don't you dare pull what you pulled in your third ending for *The Pointy End*! UPDATE SOON! PLEASE!
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Post by orinocoflow on Jan 29, 2011 17:01:21 GMT -5
new part to the story, just stick it in the deleted scenes part since im still trying to figure out exactly where it will go.
Music was blasting from the loudspeakers at the top of the large gym as he walked into it, paying the cost of the tickets. Homeland High was hosting a dodgeball game for the teachers of each of the six schools in the district, and from what he had heard, this event was a lot of fun.
The stands were divided into six parts, one for each of the schools, and Homeland was way in the far corner. Closest was some school all in purple and yellow, and they spilled over into the next school’s section with a few hundred students screaming for their school. The ones next to them, in red, had only about fifty or so students, but it was the section in the corner in red and white that made Paul laugh—there were only four people sitting there.
Jogging up, Paul sat on the top bleacher in the middle section, which was almost unoccupied by an ally team of Homeland’s, so he could sit there without drawing stares. The last section was in dark blue and white, Homeland was in green and black, and the ally school’s color was black…and more black.
“ALL RIGHT EV—” the announcer was cut off by a shrill feedback and everyone grimaced simultaneously. “Sorry about that,” he continued, unfazed. “So, let’s welcome…” and he continued to name the other five schools as the teams ran out to earsplitting screams, especially the purple-and-yellow team. When the red-white team ran out, Paul’s eyebrows shot up; the other teams had ten or more players, but this one only had five. Even so, everyone cheered for them since four people could only do so much for their team.
“And now, let’s welcome the hosts of this game…drum roll please…HOMELAND HIGH SCHOOL!!!”
Immediately, every single person in the green and black stands jumped up, screaming and cheering, whistling and clapping as their team ran out in black shorts and shirts. Some guy in front of the stands ran out with the school’s crest on a flag on a pole and started up and down the stands, creating a wave as someone else hollered the school cheer. Looking down at himself, Paul smiled—he was in black from head to toe, so he fit in perfectly.
“We will have four divisions—men’s, women’s, 40+, and co-ed! And after the rounds, we will have a short break and then the finals!”
The next two hours went by in a blur as balls flew from one side the other, nailing players with hard, unexpected hits as they dodged to avoid them or caught them. Unfortunately, the rival school in purple was winning almost every competition, but Homeland managed to win the women’s rounds. In other teams, incredible martial arts-style moves were coming out as they jumped a yard into the air, rolled on the ground, squatted and then had to shift sideways to dodge more balls, and basically an amazing time. Homeland kept losing everything except that one round, and everyone buried their heads in their hands as their team was beaten in only thirty seconds. By the end of it, Paul was hoarse from cheering, and at last the break came. Sighing, he sat down on the bench while the announcer walked out into the middle of the room.
“Hey, y’all, we’re almost done here, but while we wait, I’m going to perform two songs from my album. If you like them, go and check them out on iTunes!” Paul looked up in surprise at the familiar voice and saw that the guy who had been at the rally, the rapper, was standing in the middle and yelling to the DJ to turn up the music. A hard beat pumped out and he paced the floor, rapping swiftly. For the first time, Paul almost dozed off listening to the music, and he laughed to himself at that.
I think I’ve spent too much time here if I can fall asleep listening to deafening rap, he mused. The second song was the same at the rally, and as before, the students loved it. It had a nice beat and was probably the best rap song he’d heard.
“And now, we have four more to go, and then we are done!”
The finals went great, and then the last round was probably the most energetic. Homeland versus the purple school in the women’s final. All three rounds of the game were ties, so they had to do sudden death, and in the last second of the final one, Homeland nailed three players on the purple side with clean throws, winning the game.
When the cheering died down and the other schools left, the announcer came back into the middle of the basketball courts and called the Homeland students over.
“Okay, everybody, since we have some time left, we’ve decided to have a game for students. So, everybody, choose ten guys and let’s play!”
The football guys all got on one side and put on red jerseys, but no one else knew what to do. Finally, four other athletic guys were pushed onto the opposing side and stayed in their black clothes without jerseys, and now there was only one spot left.
“Hey, what about that singing guy?” someone called, and Paul edged towards the door until he felt the football coach come up behind him.
“Yeah, let’s have him out here. Go, stay in black and be the last player.”
Groaning inwardly, Paul trudged over to the other four and looked across at the other team, his eyes widening when he saw Ron and his boys standing there, grinning wickedly at him.
“And…dodgeball!”
Three guys sprinted forward and grabbed the balls on the middle line while Paul and another stayed back, watching the other team do the same. A ball went flashing past him and he had just enough time to jump aside a breath before it hit him. There was a loud thud as another hit one of Ron’s guys and he was called out, and then the chaos began. Leaping, dodging, avoiding the flying balls, he did not see the neon green one until it hit him full in the face with a sharp sting and he staggered back a step from the impact.
“OUT!!! Face-hit!!! Ron, you’re out!”
Blinking, Paul saw a furious Ron storming off of the playing field, and then he had to catch a ball that hit him in the stomach. A wild cheer went up as three more guys from the opposite team were knocked out, but then a groan when the last one caught a ball and Ron came back in, grabbing two balls as he went. Seeing no other alternative, Paul palmed one before dropping to the floor and skittering away from the missiles fired at him. There were two hard thuds as two guys from his team were knocked out, and then another as the last one was out as well. Seeing his chance, he jumped up and hit the other guy on Ron’s side in the legs, sending him out.
Now it was just him, Ron, and fifteen seconds on the clock. The football player threw ball after ball at him, but he always managed to jump out of the way just in time. At last, there were three seconds on the clock, and Paul threw the ball on a whim, hurtling it as hard as he could in what he hoped was the right direction. The buzzer rang at the exact moment as it hit Ron’s shoulder and he fumbled to grab it but couldn’t, and the ball bounced the floor to the loud cheering that erupted from the stands. Before Paul knew it, he was tackled to the ground and everyone nearby was yelling something in his face and clapping him on the back.
Back in his room later that night, he found a dodgeball lying on his bed with a note. All of the guys had signed it for fun, as though it was from a major game. The note read: “Great job, Byrom! Too bad you’re a senior.”
“Too bad indeed,” he murmured softly, remembering everything he had left behind.
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Post by celticbear on Jan 29, 2011 21:48:00 GMT -5
Ori! I loved this flashback! I knew all that dance training of Paul's would come in handy someday! Love how Ron got kicked off the field for a bit and that it was Paul who put him in his place during the last three seconds of the game. Keep up the great work!
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Post by orinocoflow on Feb 2, 2011 19:52:46 GMT -5
okay, i have an idea on how to continue this story. so, this update is right after the part where he gets hit by Ron and i'm taking out the part where he is back with CT. if that's confusing, message me and i'll try to explain. this is before the dodgeball game. When Paul came to, he was in a dark room on a hard bed. Grumbling, he swung his legs over the side and jumped down to the floor before he realized that he was back in his dorm with Marc. “Byrom, lights off! Some of us want to sleep, you know,” came a groggy voice from across the room when Paul flicked the light on, but he kept it on until his roommate chugged a pillow at him. “Marc, I hate asking this again, but what day is it, what time, and what happened?” There was a long pause and then Marc sat up, scrunching up his face against the light. “Dude, you’re kidding me, right?” When Paul did not reply, he stood up and walked over. “Are you okay? If your memory going or something?” “Marc, please?” “You came back from the Homecoming dance a couple hours ago after escorting your date home I think, you have a nasty bruise on your legs and a lump on your head from getting hit, and you were dog-tired when we got back and fell asleep before you hit the pillow. You remember any of this?” “Sort of…” “What exactly happened out there tonight?” “You don’t want to know, man, you don’t want to know,” he muttered and climbed back into bed, leaving Marc to turn off the lights since he was still up. This was getting…confusing. * * * The next Monday, several questions were answered when Shay ran up to him at lunch. They were at their tree, and Paul was casually leaning back against it, the bark rough on his back through his shirt; now it was all theirs, since after that one lunch when he had sung, the other students had taken leaving the tree open for the two of them; even if they were late, it was always waiting for them. “How are you feeling?” she asked, dropping her bag beside him and sitting down with her back also against the trunk. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” “Paul…do you remember what happened?” she asked slowly, eyeing him. This was the part he was dreading. “Uh…Shay, can you run me through exactly what happened? To be honest, I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not anymore.” She was silent for a while but then nodded. “Towards the end of the dance, you…I…saw you dancing with that girl and I left. You followed me out and ran the guys off and then explained that it was all a misunderstanding. Since the dance was over, you walked me home, but along the way some car hit you. It was only a glancing blow but you were out for about five minutes, and you would not believe how much it scared me to see you like that. The car left without stopping, and my phone didn’t work so I couldn’t call anyone. You came to but seemed dazed, so we borrowed the phone from someone walking by and called your friend, the one you’re staying with. He came, picked you up, and took you back. Do you remember any of this?” Paul shrugged thoughtfully. What had happened to getting hit by Ron in the parking lot? What was going on? “I remember some of it, a bit hazy on the getting hit part. Thanks.” “Does your head hurt?” “Nah, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” he said with a smile and looped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close. “What about at the dance? Did that really happen or was that my imagination?” Shay turned red and looked up at him. “Yes, that really happened.” Paul opened his mouth to suggest having another go at it when the bell suddenly rang, announcing the end of lunch. Smiling, Shay slipped out of his embrace elegantly and stood up, looking towards where everyone was going to their classes. Frowning, he followed her into French class, his thoughts occupied by French, the mystery of time, and Shay. * * * hope you like it!
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Post by celticbear on Feb 2, 2011 21:21:22 GMT -5
I like it Ori! But are you ever going to return Paul and Shay to the future where Paul is our Famouse CT Swanky Tennor? Just asking.
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Post by orinocoflow on Feb 3, 2011 1:23:22 GMT -5
CB--i will, eventually, but i want him to graduate, so just a heads up, he'll stick around until graduation. ok, this part is right after the dodgeball game update. The class dragged on as usual, and Paul rubbed his eyes tiredly in hopes of waking up more. Given the two hours of sleep the night before, it was in vain, but at least he could try. Unfortunately, history class was the worst to be in if you had trouble staying awake, and he was absolutely exhausted. “Byrom!” Paul jumped in his seat as his name was yelled next to his unsuspecting ear. Apparently, the class had been silent for the last few minutes although he just noticed it. Looking up, he saw Mr. Robinson staring at him over his glasses. “I’m sorry, what was the question?” he asked, remembering that he seemed to say that a lot in this class, and stifled a yawn while blinking to clear his bloodshot eyes. The teacher looked him over and frowned when the tenor surrendered to the yawn, seeing the young man in a new light before shaking his head slightly and walking back to the whiteboard. “No question, Byrom, but get more sleep tonight,” he muttered as he continued lecturing, and Paul could have sworn that that was concern in the man’s voice and eyes as he stole occasional glances at the student throughout the class. Science class was no better; they did a lab, and Paul mixed up the most basic formulas. His lab partner was absent, so he ended up with two workloads. Fortunately, Marc was also in that class and helped him out whenever the teacher was not looking. Finally it was over. The last bell rang and Paul shot out of the classroom, determined to catch a few hours of sleep before the dress rehearsal for the musical that night. Just as he was about to escape, someone called his name. When he turned, he saw the music director running to catch up with him. “You’re in a hurry,” she laughed. “I just wanted to let you know that rehearsals have been moved to six, so you have an extra hour. The only thing is, we don’t have a lot of techies, so can you also help out backstage? And get as much sleep as you can because we’ll be there late.” When she left, Paul sighed and closed his eyes with a mixture between a grin and a grimace. He was going to catch some sleep after all, but teching? This was going to be interesting. A few hours later, he was leaning on the door to the theater, blinking against the wind that had picked up and hunching his shoulders. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he heard footsteps around the corner, but it was Shay who appeared. “Paul! You’re here early. And you look like you could use a few more hours, too,” she assessed, giving him and up-and-down. “So, you’re the new techie?” “It seems so,” he agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Great. I’ll get you a headset and you have to wear black whenever you’re back there, but otherwise, you’ll do fine.” “Wait, you’re a techie here?” he said suddenly, realizing what she was saying. Shay nodded. “It’s a lot of fun, and you’ll catch on quickly. It’s really not that hard; all you have to do it put away props, get them onstage and take them off, and you get to see the show for free. Oh, and you get first dibs on food,” she added with a laugh. Paul nodded slowly, turning all of this over in his head. “Well, this sounds interesting. Black…I’m pretty sure I have something black. Anything in particular?” “Just a t-shirt and jeans are fine. And make sure you don’t have anything that might reflect the lights, such as necklaces, wristbands, that sort of thing, so you might need to get rid of that wristband,” she said. “We’re getting shirts for the techies pretty soon, so then we’ll all match. Otherwise, anything black is fine until then.” “Cool. Ah, finally, the director’s here,” he muttered, seeing the woman rounding the corner. Turning, Shay giggled. “Make sure she doesn’t here that tone around here.” Inside, they spent the next thirty minutes setting up and getting ready, and at six-thirty they began. Paul had on a black shirt and black jeans after having run home for a change, black sneakers, even his socks were black, and a headset that connected to a mic on his shirt and a radio clipped onto his belt. All in all, it reminded him of CT and made him feel very official. On a bench near where he was sitting was a neat row of his clothes that he needed to change into before exiting onstage, and this was going to get interesting since he had a lot of scenes. Paul was surprised by how many people were backstage as techies whom he had never noticed before, and they were oftentimes even funnier and better at the roles than the actors who had been chosen to play them. Techie talk was hilarious and something he did not even know existed until he got his backstage view right now as a techie himself. And the friendship…no rivalry, just a group of close-knit friends who bickered like siblings and had more fun together than anyone he had ever seen. In school, these students were often the ghosts who were invisible, but here, in their own atmosphere, they could be themselves. Even Shay opened up a lot more than he had ever seen her, and he was glad that he had the opportunity to be here as a techie. At eleven in the evening, they hit high-fives and wished each other good luck. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. * * *
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Post by orinocoflow on Feb 3, 2011 23:15:51 GMT -5
guys??? i updated yesterday!!!
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Post by celticbear on Feb 3, 2011 23:41:28 GMT -5
Ori! This was a fun Update to read! I bet when Paul returns to his CT life he will have a new found respect for those who work behind the scenes at each and every CT performance! Looking forward to the next update!
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Post by orinocoflow on Feb 9, 2011 1:16:08 GMT -5
next part Paul peaked out onstage through a hole in the curtain and smiled when he saw the full house. This was the last night of a week of performing nights, and this was the best audience they had had. This was going to be fun. Since he was a techie as well as onstage, he had to slip the long-sleeve dress shirt on over the black t-shirt whenever he appeared, and the double layer felt strange. Just before the previous scene ended, he slid a knotted tie over his head and left it loose around his collar, of which the first few buttons were undone. Unfortunately, that was when he realized that the shirt could be seen, so just as the lights blacked out, he shed both shirts and was pulling the dress shirt on while making his way over to the couch. “Byrom! Couch, onstage, now! Front green marks,” rang in his ear even as he picked it up and motioned for another techie to help while tilting his head down and murmuring, “Gotcha,” into the mic. As they came onstage and put the couch down front and center, a few cheers went up from the audience when they recognized his lean form and someone even called his name. His first role was just a walk-on, and as soon as that was complete, he sat down on the couch they had brought backstage again and enjoyed the show. The musical also had short one-act scenes that the students had written themselves and they had the crowd in stitches from laughing so much and so hard. For the next scene, Paul put on his shirt and tie first and then set up the picnic table and chairs before sitting down in one of them for his next role, tapping his foot to the song the orchestra was playing. Now, this musical was not just about singing and acting, but also about dancing, and Paul was no exception. Before long, he was combining all three on the table and then jumping down onto the stage to continue it. All the time, he was singing to the girl who was supposed to be his girlfriend in the musical, his rich voice stunning many people in the audience and his dance moves making the others laugh. The scene finished with him sitting up on the table and holding the girl in his arms while she leaned her head on his chest with him singing to the audience. Backstage, he saw out of the corner of his eyes as Shay stood there just behind the curtain, smiling at him. The rest of the musical went great and the crowd was on their feet at the end as they all came out to bow and receive their individual awards. Shay received Best Techie and he got The Golden Voice, to which the crowd cheered loudly in agreement. “That was amazing,” he breathed once backstage again with Shay beside him, but then she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back out once more. “What…?” “Now we mingle with the crowd,” she said as he jumped down from the stage and turned to help her down, which she did, blushing when he caught her easily and set her down on her feet beside him. “And there is someone I want you to meet.” “Oh really? Who?” he asked, following her as she wound her way through the people. “Someone who has been wondering who I spend so much time with after school and at school,” she replied over her shoulder. Before he could ask anything else, she stopped abruptly and he ran into her. “Paul, this is my father. Dad, Paul Byrom,” she said, gesturing between Paul and the man on her other side. Looking up, Paul’s smile froze on his face when he realized who he was looking at. Mr. Robinson looked just as surprised as he, but he put his hand out to shake Paul’s. “Interesting to see you here, Byrom,” he said, watching the tenor closely and then glancing at his daughter. “And here, of all places.” “Same to you, Mr. Robinson,” replied Paul, swallowing and wondering just how much Shay had told him. Apparently, nothing, and that wasn’t exactly the best thing either. “Well, almost any situation would have been less awkward, but not too many on that list,” chuckled the man. “Congratulations in the play; your voice really is beautiful, so the other teachers weren’t joking when they talked about it. Ever try making a career out of it?” “No, not really,” Paul managed, wondering how he could be saved from the uncomfortable zone. To his relief, Shay came to his rescue. “Dad, you can research his criminal record later; right now, we have a cast party to go to,” she said with a smile. Turning to Paul, she said, “Do you have a ride?” “I was actually going to walk, since it’s only a couple blocks.” “We can give you a ride if you like,” suggested Mr. Robinson. “Well, that would be great, thank you,” Paul accepted. * * *
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