Chapter 4

The second-to-last act had already begun when April showed up.

She hurried over, an odd flush blooming across her face.

"Myra, you're up next. Let me check your makeup."

Before I could answer, she pulled the sunscreen out of my costume and gave me a few quick sprays.

Then she started getting jittery, tugging at her own hair over and over.

"Myra, you should spray more of this. It's not just sunscreen, it's hydrating too."

I pointed at the red patch on her face. "Did you get sunburned? Here, let me spray some on you."

Her hands shot up on instinct. "No, no, that's just the makeup."

"I've got my own. I'll do it myself."

I watched with my own eyes as she touched up her foundation in the mirror and misted herself with the spray.

Only then did I let her go.

At the one-minute countdown, I smoothed down my gown and set my things in the backstage waiting area.

As I came around to the side of the stage, I caught sight of April.

Her eyes had changed. Wild and vacant at once.

The previous act had just finished, and she was supposed to walk out and announce the next one.

But she just sat there, blank.

Her hands kept clawing at herself, dragging at her gown.

Like she had fleas.

A staff member beside her stepped up to remind her.

She bared her teeth, eyes wide.

She looked exactly like a rabid dog.

The spray's working. Something's wrong with her.

Serves her right. She's the one who wanted to hurt someone.

The strangeness lasted about two seconds before she seemed to come back to herself.

She scratched her head, embarrassed, gathered up her skirt, and headed out onto the stage.

I followed close behind, watching her every move.

The first thing I saw was Bradley, sitting in the front row, phone raised, smiling up at her.

So he'd started a livestream. To capture the moment I made a fool of myself.

"Everyone, the next act is the closing performance of tonight's show, performed by Myra Pruitt of the 2025 dance program."

"Myra has spent two whole months preparing this solo."

"Now, please give her a warm round of appla—"

She never finished the word.

April's eyes changed again. She stared dead ahead, fixed on nothing.

She stood frozen in place, gripping the microphone.

The crowd began to stir.

"Why did the emcee stop talking? Did she forget her lines?"

"What's going on? Look at her eyes, something's off."

"Is she drooling? Look at the corner of her mouth."

On the big screen at the back of the hall, I watched April standing there, blank.

Hollow eyes, sluggish movements.

The prompt came through her earpiece. "Emcee, emcee, what are you doing? Announce the act, now."

The prompt sounded three times, and April still didn't react.

The noise from the crowd grew louder.

The officials seated below sent a staff member rushing backstage.

But April stood there as if she'd been nailed in place.

"What is going on? Where's the other emcee? Get out there and save this."

The person in charge of the gala was shouting.

Before the other emcee could even make it onstage, April moved.

She clenched both fists, eyes locked straight ahead, and started twisting her hips hard.

The way she moved, it was like she'd suddenly sprouted a tail.

"What is she doing? There are this many people watching. Get out there and drag her off, now."

The person in charge was frantic, pointing at April as he yelled at the other emcee.

Under the eyes of the whole hall, under all that pressure, the other emcee walked out.

"April, what are you doing? April."

The moment the other emcee reached out to pull her away, a low growl came through April's microphone.

And that was when I finally understood.

Exactly what had been hidden inside that sunscreen spray she'd given me.