CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 63

EZRA

My hands were shaking. I didn’t even know why. We’d already sung. We’d done our part.

But standing there, waiting for results with forty voices breathing the same nervous air, it felt like every heartbeat could break me.

The stage lights were blinding again. Ten choirs lined up side by side, matching uniforms, anxious smiles, and too many whispered prayers to count.

Jordan leaned toward me, muttering under her breath. “If we don’t make it, I’m switching to hip-hop.”

Lily nudged her. “If we don’t make it, you’re joining me in therapy.”

Ryan groaned. “I’ll just move to a forest. Live off berries.”

I tried to laugh, but my throat was too dry.

Genevieve stood ahead of us, hands clasped neatly. She looked composed—like this was any other day—but I saw her tapping her index finger softly against her palm. That was her version of panic.

Dorian was to the side, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the judges’ table. Even from here, I could tell his jaw was tight.

The announcer came up to the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience,” she said in that overly sweet tone that always meant heartbreak was coming. “After careful deliberation, the judges have selected the top five choirs to advance to the national finals.”

The room went silent.

Someone coughed. A child cried somewhere in the audience. I swear I could hear my pulse.

“They’ll be announced in reverse order,” the announcer continued. “Starting with… third place.”

Jordan grabbed my sleeve. Lily grabbed my other sleeve. I was one tug away from losing an arm.

“The third church moving forward is…” She paused for too long.

“Saint Peter’s Choir!”

Lily gasped. “That’s Caleb’s church!”

Caleb and his group cheered loudly across the room. Even Clara was crying. Jordan gave a half-smile. “Good for them,” she muttered.

I tried to smile too, but it felt tight. Okay. Third was gone. Two more spots.

The announcer’s voice returned, smooth and merciless. “Second place… the Holy Redeemer Choir!”

The crowd erupted again.

Ryan exhaled shakily. “That’s it. We didn’t make it.”

Lily’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe next year.”

Someone behind us whispered, “We did our best, at least.”

I forced a smile, but my stomach was sinking. I looked toward Dorian. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. His expression was unreadable.

The announcer raised the mic again. “And finally…”

Please.

Please just say it.

“…the first place, and highest scoring choir for this round…”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see it.

“…is Saint Maria’s Parish Choir!”

For a second, I thought I misheard. Then Lily screamed. Like—screamed.

“We did it!” she shrieked, jumping up and down. “WE DID IT!”

Ryan blinked. “Wait—wait—we’re Saint Maria's!”

Jordan threw her head back laughing. “No way. No freaking way.”

And then it hit me.

We actually won.

The entire choir exploded. Forty voices shouting, clapping, hugging. I didn’t even know who I was hugging at one point. Lily was crying into my shoulder, Jordan was punching Ryan’s arm, and someone had lifted Genevieve off the floor, which was probably a sin in itself.

Genevieve was trying not to smile too widely, but she was glowing. “Compose yourselves!” she said over the noise, though she was laughing softly too.

Dorian stepped forward, pride written in the faintest lift of his mouth. His eyes found mine across the chaos. One look. That was all. But it was enough to make my chest ache in the best way.

The announcer continued, her voice barely audible over our screams. “Congratulations to Saint Maria's Parish Choir for placing first!”

Someone pushed me forward, and I stumbled onto the stage with the others. Flashing lights, applause, cameras.

They handed us the trophy—gold, heavy, shining like something out of a dream. Genevieve accepted it first, of course, with perfect poise. “Thank you,” she said elegantly into the mic. “To God be the glory.”

The crowd cheered again.

When it was our turn to lift it, forty hands reached up together. My throat tightened. We had worked for this—for nights without sleep, for calluses, for tears.

Lily screamed again. “WE WON!”

“Yes, you’ve said that,” Jordan said, smiling.

Ryan laughed, voice cracking. “Still feels unreal.”

I looked down at the gleaming trophy, and I swear my heart could burst. “We actually did it.”

Genevieve turned to us, her voice soft but full. “Well done, children. You’ve made the parish proud.”

Dorian’s hand landed lightly on my shoulder. “You were magnificent, Ezra.”

I smiled, breath catching. “We all were.”

He held my gaze a second longer. “Yes,” he said quietly. “We all were.”

The bus ride back was chaos.

People were singing, shouting, eating leftover fries Lily had smuggled in her bag. Ryan was already composing a celebratory chant. Jordan had her head on Lily’s shoulder, humming.

I sat by the window, trophy glinting faintly in the seat next to me.

Genevieve stood at the front of the bus, clearing her throat. “I expect you all to rest tonight. No loud music, no reckless behavior. And remember—”

“‘Conduct yourselves as winners,’” Lily and Jordan chorused in unison.

Genevieve blinked. “Yes. That.”

The bus erupted in laughter. Even Dorian smiled a little, shaking his head.

As the laughter died down, I leaned my head against the window. The city lights blurred past.

Lily nudged me. “Still can’t believe it, huh?”

“Not even a little,” I said softly.

She grinned. “You looked like you were gonna pass out when they said our name.”

“I was going to pass out.”

Jordan smirked. “Well, don’t. We need you alive.”

I chuckled. “Right.”