The Stork That Drank the Stars

Romy climbed up the steps to the stage of the outdoor amphitheater, holding the megaphone in her right hand. The late afternoon was overcast but mild. She’d already checked to make sure that the snacks and drinks had been delivered, and the ice, and the t-shirts that read, “I Summoned the Stork with a Handstand.”

Her parents were there, one of them openly proud, the other one trying not to look terrified on Romy’s behalf. Her friends had all told her not to be nervous, or to focus on them if she got nervous, or to picture the audience in their underwear, or other advice that she appreciated but didn’t need.

Romy was not nervous.

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