Chapter 37

The gala officially began. With each performance limited to ten minutes, the program moved quickly to the schools in the west side of the city.
Yolanda stood up, her classmates fussing over her luxury costume as they walked her toward the waiting area, their heads held high with pride.
As they rounded a corner, someone pointed. “Yolanda, that’s the girl from Aurora High. I think she’s holding Queenie’s costume.”
Yolanda followed their gaze and saw the poorly dressed Juniper carrying a black trash bag.
“I heard Queenie didn’t have a costume. She probably borrowed one.”
“Borrowed?” Yolanda laughed, her tone dripping with disdain. “What kind of quality dress comes in a trash bag?”
“Exactly,” the other girls chimed in, quick to agree. “It almost feels beneath you, Yolanda, to be on the same stage as Queenie, wearing your fifty-thousand-dollar dress.”
“Well,” Yolanda said, flicking her hair, “looks like we’re in for another joke this year.”
“Juniper, you’re here!” Seeing Juniper, the anxious Queenie immediately stood up and rushed over to her. “It’s hot, have some water.”
“Go try this on.” Juniper took the water bottle and handed the bag to Queenie. “I had it professionally cleaned. It’s ready to go, no issues.”
“Okay.” Queenie opened the bag, and when she saw the dress, she froze. She had seen this brand on television before. It was called ‘The One,’ specializing in high- end competition costumes. The cheapest ones were said to cost five figures, with some going as high as seven.
She’d never seen this particular dress before and had no idea of its price, but judging by the design and material, it was definitely not cheap.
“Juniper, isn’t this dress… too expensive?” Queenie asked cautiously, afraid she might damage it and cause trouble for Juniper. “Maybe I should just wear my own.”
“It’s not expensive.” Juniper set the bottle down and crossed her legs, her tone nonchalant. “This is her cheapest one.”
There had been a few more expensive ones, but she had no idea where she’d tossed them.
“But Queenie hesitated, reluctant to wear it.
“You have fifteen minutes,” Juniper said, giving her a stern look. “Don’t waste time.” “Okay.” Queenie didn’t dare argue. She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Soon, the host announced Eclara High’s performance.
Under the spotlight, Yolanda danced, her dress shimmering with a dazzling light that immediately captured the entire audience’s attention.
“Out of all the performances, this is the only one worth watching,” one of the judges commented to another.
“Indeed. Master Lunar’s piece, ‘Heaven,’ is quite difficult. To perform it this well is impressive.”
The female judge on the left, a professional dance instructor, added with a smile, “But
“But what?”
“The technique is solid, and the movements are fluid, but it’s like she’s trapped in a box-beautiful, yes, but lacking any real soul or spontaneity.”
It was too aggressive, with no emotional investment.
The judge frowned. She wasn’t particularly fond of students like this.
“There’s one more dance performance left,” the judge said, flipping through the program. Her face lit up when she saw the title ‘Dawn.’ Two students were performing Master Lunar’s work?
Comparatively, ‘Dawn’ required far more emotional investment and was much more difficult than ‘Heaven.’ Most dance students wouldn’t dare choose this piece. She was actually a little excited.
With a final flourish, Yolanda’s dance concluded. The judges nodded in satisfaction, giving her high scores.