Joan's POV
The microphone slipped from my sweaty hands.
Twenty thousand people screamed my name, but all I could hear was my heart beating like a drum. The bright lights made everything look like a dream, but the fear in my stomach felt too real.
"JOAN! JOAN! JOAN!"
The crowd's chant shook the entire stadium. I picked up the microphone and faked a smile. This was going to be the best night of my life. I was Joan Robert, the girl who went from singing in her bedroom to selling out the biggest arena in the country.
But something felt wrong.
I had woken up this morning feeling sick to my stomach. Not the good kind of nervous you get before a big show. This was different. It felt like someone was watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake. I tried to shake off the feeling, but it followed me everywhere today.
During sound check this afternoon, my voice cracked three times. My backup dancers noticed and asked if I was okay. I lied and said I was fine. But I wasn't great. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong step would send me falling.
"You're amazing, Joan!" someone yelled from the front row.
I started singing my hit song "Flying High," and the crowd went wild. Their phones lit up like stars as they recorded every second. My voice sounded strong now, but inside I was still shaking. Why did I feel so scared when everything was going perfectly?
A little girl in the third row held up a sign that said "Joan is my hero." Her mom lifted her up so I could see the sign better. The girl was maybe seven years old with pigtails and a big smile. That made me feel better. I remembered why I loved this - making people happy with my songs.
I pointed at the little girl and sang the next line just for her. She squealed with joy and hugged her mom. Other kids in the crowd started jumping up and down. This was what made all the hard work worth it.
I sang harder and danced across the stage. The backup dancers moved perfectly beside me. James, my piano player, gave me a thumbs up from his spot at the side of the stage. Sarah, my best backup singer, blended with me like we'd done a thousand times before.
My sparkly dress caught the lights and made rainbow colors everywhere. The stage felt like home under my feet. For a few minutes, I forgot about being scared.
"This next song is for everyone who believes in their dreams!" I shouted into the microphone.
The crowd cheered so loud I thought the roof might fall down. Security guards at the front of the stage smiled and nodded. Even they seemed excited. I started singing "Dream Catcher," the song that made me famous two years ago when I was just nineteen.
Every person in the stadium sang along. Their voices mixed with mine and made something magical. This was why I became a singer. Not for the money or the fame, but for times like this when twenty thousand people became one voice.
But then I saw her.
In the VIP area, a young girl with dark hair was not smiling like everyone else. She was looking at me with angry eyes. Something about her made my skin crawl. She looked about my age, maybe younger, and she was beautiful. But the way she looked at me made me want to run away and hide.
I tried to ignore her and keep singing, but I kept looking back. She wasn't dancing or singing along like the other VIP guests. She wasn't even recording with her phone like everyone else. She just stared at me with those cold, angry eyes.
Who was she? Why was she looking at me like that? Did I know her from somewhere? Had I done something wrong to her?
The song finished and the crowd went crazy. "We love you, Joan!" they screamed. People were crying happy tears and reaching toward the stage. Signs with my name waved everywhere. This was what I had worked for my whole life.
"You guys are incredible!" I yelled back. "This has been the most amazing night ever!"
But I lied. The girl with the angry eyes made everything feel different. I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. Really bad.
I sang three more songs, but I kept looking for her in the crowd. Sometimes I saw her, still looking with that same cold look. Other times she disappeared into the crowd, and that scared me even more. Where did she go? What was she planning?
My band played perfectly. The lights hit every cue. The crowd sang every word. Everything was going exactly as planned, but I felt like I was drowning.
During my last song "Shooting Star," my phone buzzed in the small pocket of my dress. Who would text me during a concert? My boss Vanessa knew never to bother me on stage. My parents were probably watching the live stream at home in our small town. My boyfriend Jake was supposed to be here tonight but canceled at the last minute to hang out with his friends.
I tried to focus on the song, but the phone kept buzzing. Someone really wanted to reach me. That never happened during shows. Ever.
The song finished and I took my final bow. The crowd screamed for more, but the show was over. As I walked off stage, I pulled out my phone with shaking hands.
One new message from an unknown number.
My heart started racing as I opened it.
"Great show tonight, Joan. Too bad it might be your last. Sweet dreams, superstar."
I dropped my phone. It clattered on the floor backstage, and the screen cracked. My heart felt like it stopped beating totally.
"Joan! You were incredible!" My boss Vanessa ran over with a huge smile. "The reviews are already coming in online. Everyone's calling it your best show ever! The record label is thrilled!"
I couldn't speak. I just stared at my broken phone on the floor.
"What's wrong?" Vanessa asked, her smile fading. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
I picked up my phone with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. The message was still there, the words glowing on the cracked screen.
"Someone sent me this," I whispered, showing her.
Vanessa read it and laughed. "Oh honey, you always get weird texts from fans. Don't worry about it. You have some really crazy fans who say all kinds of strange things. It's just part of being popular."
But this didn't feel like a fan message. This felt like a threat. A promise that something terrible was coming.
"Did you see a girl in VIP tonight? Dark hair, about my age? She was looking at me the whole show like she hated me."
Vanessa shrugged. "I see hundreds of people every night, sweetie. VIP is always full of business people and rich fans. Can we talk about this later? There are five reporters ready to interview you, and the photographer from Music Weekly is here."
I wanted to tell her this was different, but she was already walking toward the press area. Everyone thought I was being emotional. Maybe I was. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me after such a big show.
But as I walked toward the cameras, trying to fix my smile, I saw her again.
The girl with dark hair was standing by the back exit, still wearing that angry look. When our eyes met across the busy backstage area, she smiled. But it wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind of smile that promised trouble. Big trouble.
Then she lifted her phone and pointed it right at me.
She was recording.
My blood turned to ice water. Something was very, very wrong. This girl wasn't just a fan with an attitude problem. She was planning something, and whatever it was, it was going to happen soon.
As she faded into the crowd of people leaving the arena, one thought screamed in my head louder than the cheering crowd had: My perfect life was about to become a nightmare.
And there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.