Escaping Perfect by Emma Harrison

tugging me toward the stairs.
    My stomach was in my shoes. “What? No! I can’t go up there!” I staggered along behind him, trying to pull away, but he held my hand tight. “Jasper! I can’t!”
    â€œYes, you can, Red Sox,” he said, guiding me in front ofhim and placing his hands on my hips now. He maneuvered me up the stairs until I was finally standing on the stage, albeit the very edge of it. I looked out at the audience—more people than I’d ever seen in one place in my life—and my pulse palpitated. There were camera phones everywhere. Suddenly I felt faint. I was about to just jump and run and hop on the next bus to wherever, when Jasper leaned in from behind, his lips oh-so-close to my ear. “Come on, Red Sox. I’m sure you’re talented in a lot of ways.”
    As soon as my entire body was done responding to that , it hit me. I’d escaped so I could live a life. I’d escaped so I could have experiences. Experiences like this one. If I wanted to live, it was time to start living.
    But still. I couldn’t let anyone get a good picture of my face. I turned around and plucked the black cowboy hat from Jasper’s head. He reached up to pat down his sweaty blond hair as I placed the hat on my head and brought the brim down low.
    â€œWell,” I told him. “You’re right about that.”
    I walked across the stage to where Danny and Delia were hanging out in the wings. “Any chance I can borrow that for a sec?” I said, gesturing at the violin. “Danny?” I ventured.
    Her blue eyes widened in surprise, but she shrugged. “Sure, darlin’. You do your thing.”
    â€œThank you. I think I will.”
    Then I walked back to center stage and over to the mic. “I’m Lia Washington,” I said. My voice reverberated throughout the room. “And I guess this is my hidden talent.” I ducked my chin as best as I could and started to play.
    My song of choice was Dolly Parton’s “Jolene,” which was one of Gigi’s favorites. The second I started playing, I forgot all about the crowd, about the camera phones, even about Jasper. All I could think about was Gigi and the music. Damn, I had missed playing the violin. Why had I ever given it up? Oh, right. Because my mother had decided my time would be better spent learning Mandarin.
    Wrong again, Mom.
    When the last strains of the song faded into nothing, I hazarded a glance at Fiona and Britta’s table. Fiona was on her feet cheering, as were a lot of other people. Ryan came over and took the mic, giving me a wide smile.
    â€œYou, my friend, can come back anytime!” Then he looked at the crowd. “Lia Washington, everybody!”
    I lifted one hand, my chest inflating with pride and adrenaline and sheer joy. Then I returned Danny or Delia’s violin to her, and jogged back over to Jasper and placed his hat back on his head. He tipped it back, and my heart caught. His eyes were filled with this sort of awed admiration. No one had ever looked at me like that before.
    â€œHoly fiddle, girl. That was intense!”
    I raised a shoulder, tilting my head. “Sorry you didn’t get to humiliate me.”
    â€œI wasn’t trying to humiliate you!” he said, following me as I hoofed it down the stairs.
    â€œYeah, yeah,” I called back. “You keep telling yourself that.”
    His guitar still hung around his neck, which made it difficult for him to navigate the crowd on his way to the end of the bar. A few people stopped him to congratulate him, and a few stopped me to congratulate me, which made it slow going. Ryan, meanwhile, had picked another unwitting volun­teer, who was now onstage showing everyone his double-­jointed arm moves.
    â€œYou have this way of putting me in my place,” Jasper said as we finally reached our destination.
    â€œSorry,” I said, leaning into the bar. “You just bring