I stand awkwardly, hoping the redhead ushers me off stage. But she doesn’t.
Alanna instead appears on stage.
She is clapping zealously, tears in her eyes.
In some ways, she got her wish—I am her Frankenstein project. She gave me a heart and lived to tell the tale through song.
I know this will do wonders for her career. Her name will go down in history, and I hate that I’ve been a part of her victory.
The redhead rushes onto the stage and passes a microphone to Alanna, who gestures I’m to stand near her. I do as she says.
The crowd is still applauding, even Luna. I smile at her, memorizing her face because the next few minutes are about to change everything.
“I think we can do better than that!” Alanna says into the microphone, riling the audience up further.
She gestures her hand
