Acadian Star Read Online Free Page B

finish.
    Almost there…
    â€œ Oh-oh-oh … between a rock and a hard place ...”
    And then…it was over.
    The applause surprised Meg. She dropped her shoulders in relief and ran her hands against the sides of her skirt to dry the dampness. The memory of the song pulsed through her body as she took deep breaths to steady her racing heart. The coloured lights faded back. A white spotlight beamed a circle of harsh light at her feet.
    She waited.
    The judges looked down and made notes. Monsieur Giroir tipped his head towards Soeur Agnes for a brief moment. He whispered something that made her smile.
    The local judges spoke first.
    â€œ Merci , Meg,” Monsieur Giroir began. “I know it’s always difficult to be the first to sing. All things considered, I enjoyed that very much. You have a lovely tone to your voice. Good job.”
    Sœur Agnes was next. “Meg, you were always such a little songbird. I usually like something a little more traditional, but overall I think your tempo was good and you worked through your nerves. Très bien , Meg.”
    Meg smiled and nodded her head in a show of thanks. She held her breath while the visiting judge, Madame Deveau, finished her notes.
    Madame Deveau looked up from her writing and studied Meg over the half lenses of her glasses. Her shoulders stooped with age, but her eyes were sharp and intelligent. Their icy stare played on Meg’s nerves.
    â€œMadamoiselle Gallant,” Madame Deveau began. “I must say, you have an amazing spirit in your voice.”
    Meg allowed herself to exhale slightly, but Madame Deveau wasn’t finished.
    â€œBut there is one question you need to ask yourself if you make it through the final round to Halifax.” She tapped her pen on the paper in front of her and took a moment before she leaned into her microphone to continue. “Are you sure you are up to the task?”
    Madame Deveau picked up her papers and tapped them on the table as if to straighten them. A hush blanketed the audience for what seemed like an eternity. Meg stood, not sure if she should answer the question or turn and run to get the moment over with. Someone offstage clapped to break the silence, prompting a small eruption of polite applause.
    Meg squeaked out a thank you into the microphone. Her cheeks burned as she rushed off the stage.
    Are you sure you are up to the task?
    What kind of question was that? Meg fumed.
    She caught a glimpse of Nève waiting for her turn in the wings. The sight of her friend brought the weight of the day square down upon her as she exited to the other side. The strange behaviour of Tante Perle, the fact that Nève was moving, and now this; there was no way Madame Deveau would vote for her to go to Halifax after that comment.
    Meg flew down the stairs and grabbed her backpack. Faces blurred as she raced into the washroom and headed for the middle stall. The washroom’s fluorescent light buzzed and flickered for a moment, adding to Meg’s angst. A handwritten sign hung from the stall door.
    Out of order.
    Perfect. No one would look for her in there. And with Madame Deveau’s words still fresh in her mind, Meg was in no mood to face anyone.
    The muffled music sounded through the ceiling of the washroom from the main hall overhead. Nève had begun her song already. Meg brought the toilet lid down and sat on it, her face in her hands. The heat of humiliation sent trickles of sweat down her back.
    Maybe it was just a crazy dream to think that she would make it to the finals in Halifax with Nève. But she and Nève had dreamt about it, talked about it, and even decided what they would wear. It hardly mattered anymore. Nève would be six provinces away by the time the finals came along, anyway.
    Meg couldn’t bear another minute of the clammy polyester of her costume and peeled it off. She pulled the light blouse, apron, and woollen skirt of her Évangeline costume from her