Out in the hall, kids sprayed their hair till it stood stiff, clutching costumes together with safety pins. Jasmine hung thick in the air, mixed with the sharp tang of makeup smeared on eager faces. Costumed figures packed every corner - kings from long ago brushed shoulders with dancers in motion, while singers lined up in spotless white. A rush moved through everyone, electric, impossible to ignore.

Hold still, Dhanya - I can’t fix your bindi if you keep moving!” Amma whispered sharp. It was a major evening, so the usual household limits softened just enough to let her slip behind the scenes and assist.

My hands shook, Amma, I said under my breath. Not only the high note in my part made me shaky. It was knowing seniors sat up front, watching close. Meanwhile, tenth graders moved behind the curtains, staying busy.

"You're a Kerala girl," she said, giving me a supportive squeeze. "We have the ocean in our voices. Just sing to the water."

When Amma walked off toward a rigid, silent Papa, I slipped away behind thick red drapes, chasing the hush of my "Girl Gang

"Dhanya! Look!" Priya whispered, pointing toward the stage entrance. "Ajay is working the curtain pulleys tonight. He’s been staring at our dressing room door for twenty minutes."

There he stood. Ajay appeared, somehow leaner, sharper, dressed in a dark volunteer shirt. His eyes met mine - he dipped his head just once, that quiet way he has. Then something shifted overhead. A shape moved into the light, cutting off my sight.

"Move it, juniors! Clear the way for the props!"

Chandru showed up. Headset on, clipboard in hand - gripped tight, like it meant business. Stress clung to his face, yet everything about him screamed control. Way beyond someone I could casually talk to. Not a single beat skipped inside me. It sprinted, twisted, landed hard.

A moment hung between us when he walked by. Not even glancing toward Ajay. My friends faded out of his view entirely. His gaze locked onto mine without wavering.