Chapter 2: The Boy Who Had Been Listening
He looked at that girl and said, clearly enough for the whole auditorium to hear:
"Say it again.
I want everyone to hear exactly what kind of person you are."
The room went dead silent.
The girl opened her mouth, then closed it.
He didn't wait for her.
He turned back to Eliza, held the microphone out, and said, "You were the best thing on this stage tonight.
Don't you dare stop."
Eliza's eyes filled with tears.
She shook her head.
"I can't," she whispered.
"You already did," he said.
"I've heard you practice.
Every morning before first period.
You sing in the stairwell by the east exit.
You didn't know anyone could hear you."
The auditorium was completely still.
Eliza stared at him.
So did I.
He'd been listening to her for months.
And he'd never said a word.
Then the girl in the front row laughed again — quieter this time, but sharp enough to cut.
"This is so embarrassing," she muttered to the boy beside her.
"For both of them."
That boy didn't laugh.
He leaned away from her instead.
And then I noticed something I hadn't seen before.
The girl's mother was sitting three seats from me.
She had been watching the whole thing with her arms crossed and a small smile on her face.
Like she was proud.
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What Eliza did next — and what that mother said afterward — is something I will never forget.
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