Chapter 3 What If It's The Last Shot

The flier was Naomi's fault.

She slid it across my counter one night after my shift, grinning like she'd just handed me the winning lottery ticket. Bright letters spelled out: CITYWIDE TALENT AUDITIONS 'Searching for the Next Big Voice'.

"I'm not doing this," I said, before she even opened her mouth.

"Yes, you are," she shot back, hands on her hips. Naomi's always been louder than me, braver too. "This is literally the thing you've been waiting for. Actual scouts, actual judges. Not a dusty café with four people and a broken mic."

I glanced at the flyer again. The date circled in red. Three days from now.

"Naomi..." I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Do you know how many auditions I've done? How many I've failed?"

Her voice softened. "Yeah. And do you know how many of those you walked out of with your head high, even when they didn't see you? All of them. Vera, this is different."

I wanted to believe her. God, I did.

But the truth is, every rejection feels heavier than the last, like a stone in my pocket pulling me under. It's not that I'm giving up, I just-

Naomi didn't let me wallow. She never does. She started tugging at my hair, pulling strands loose from the bun I'd shoved it into.

"You've got the voice, no question," she said. "But we're going to work on the rest too. You hide yourself, V. Baggy shirts, no makeup, hair always tied back like you're in a rush. What are you so afraid of people seeing?"

I pulled away, heat rushing to my cheeks. "It's not about how I look. It's about how I sound."

She arched an eyebrow. "First impressions matter. And don't give me that speech, you and I both know you care. You stare at your reflection long enough before open mics, wishing you could vanish. Don't."

I hated that she was right.

When I looked in the mirror, I saw contradictions. A girl with wide brown eyes that always seemed too intense, too guarded. A mouth that wanted to smile more than it did. Curves I tried to hide under oversized jackets, like I didn't want to take up space.

Naomi saw potential. I saw flaws.

"Fine," I muttered. "You can play stylist."

She grinned. "Excellent! It's about time ".

---

On my walk home, flier folded in my pocket, I passed by the corner store where Jake usually hangs out. He was leaning against his motorcycle, as usual, chatting with his friends. Jake-tall, messy-haired, with that crooked smile that looked like it belonged on a movie poster.

He caught sight of me, raised his chin in a lazy hello.

"Hey, Vera," he called.

"Hey," I said back, trying to sound casual.

No, I'm not immune to good looks and boyish charms, but, it's just 'bleh' right now, timing is everything, and I have no time for this.

"You singing tonight?" he asked. He'd heard me once at the café months ago. Just once, but he never let me forget it.

"Not tonight," I said.

"Shame. You're good." His grin widened, like he knew any living thing would squirm under such grin.

I muttered something like "thanks" and hurried off, trying to wipe off that grin, face and charm from my consciousness.

Jake was a kind of crush you didn't tell anyone about. The kind that made no sense-he was charming, careless, and definitely not interested in anything serious. I knew that. Still, every time he looked at me like he'd remembered I existed, I felt... noticed. And for someone like me, who seemed to be invisible ninety nine percent of the times, being noticed was dangerous and addictive all at once.

Naomi, of course, knew. She knew everything. She teased me relentlessly about it when I told her the story later that night.

"Jake?" she laughed, nearly choking on her soda. "Vera, please. That boy has one brain cell and it's dedicated to his hair products."

"He has verrrry nice hair...and face.... and body....and teeth-

"Uhhhhh.. where's my friend and who are you? What have you done with V?!?!?"

I threw a pillow at her.

---

That night, lying in bed, I pulled the flier back out. The bold letters seemed to glow in the dark.

Citywide Talent Auditions.

Three days.

Part of me wanted to rip it up, throw it away, pretend I'd never seen it. Because if I didn't try, I couldn't fail. And failure, God, failure was exhausting.

But another part of me, the louder part, whispered: What if this is it? What if this is the last shot, the one that changes everything?

I thought about the convenience store. The burnt coffee, the endless shelves, the tired customers. Was this my future if I stopped now?

I thought about my parents, their sighs and their careful words. Be realistic, Vera.

And I thought about Naomi, the way she clapped louder than anyone, even when no one else was listening.

I closed my eyes and pictured a stage bigger than a café corner. A crowd that wasn't half-asleep. A moment where my voice could stretch to its fullest, without being cut short.

The idea scared me. But it thrilled me too.

By morning, my decision was made.

I was going to audition.

---

The next two days were a blur of preparation. Naomi dragged me through thrift stores, pulling dresses off hangers and holding them up to my frame.

"This one," she said, shoving a soft navy-blue dress into my arms. "Simple, classy, but not boring. It says: I'm here, I'm worth listening to."

I stared at my reflection in the changing room mirror. The girl looking back at me didn't seem like me. She seemed stronger. Braver. Like she belonged in the spotlight, not hiding in the shadows.

Naomi squealed when I stepped out. "Yes! That's the one. Now all we need is a little makeup-don't panic, I'll keep it natural-and you're set."

"Set to humiliate myself," I muttered.

"Set to win," she corrected firmly.

When we left the store, Jake was across the street with his friends again. He saw me carrying the bag with the dress, raised an eyebrow.

"Big plans, Vera?" he called.

I hesitated. Naomi answered for me. "She's auditioning for the city talent search. She's gonna kill it."

Jake whistled low. "Didn't know you had it in you. Break a leg."

My cheeks dared to burn, but for once, I didn't shrink.

Maybe Naomi was right. Maybe I did have it in me.

Just Maybe.

---

The night before the audition, I barely slept. I lay awake staring at the ceiling, my guitar leaning against the wall, my notebook on the nightstand. Every fear, every memory, every insecurity buzzed inside me like bees.

But underneath all of that was something else.

Hope.

Brimming undeterred.

And I realized-I'd rather fail a thousand times than live a life where I never tried.

Tomorrow, I was going to stand on that stage.

And maybe, just maybe, the world would finally hear me.