In All Her Glory

•06. In the Pridelands•

Song of the chapter - Happy by Wande.

|Chapter Six|

Sharon's POV:

I sang.

And people applauded me.

Moisture blurred my vision as I stepped out of the school building. It felt suffocating to be in there. I continued to stomp away on grass.

Grass? I swiped off the falling tears on my face and looked up. I was on the football field. Assembly was supposed to be taking place soon. If I was caught, I would be punished.

Who cares? I just needed fresh air. I reached the first bleacher and dropped down on it. My breaths came out in fast puffs.

A roar of applause filled my ears. I squeezed my eyes shot as I rocked my body, my arms around my legs.

I stand in front of the congregation, grinning widely as I hold the microphone in my hands. I just finished my Christmas song. One that Dad and I had written together at home. My eyes wander over to where Dad sits behind the piano. He shoots me two thumbs up.

"That's my girl!" he mouths. My grin grows wider. I return the mic to the microphone stand and walk off the stage.

Dad meets me in the choir room of the church as soon as I reach there. Without hesitation, I jump into his open arms and melt in his embrace. I clutch his special choirmaster robe and look up at him.

"We did it, Dad!"

He smiles and shakes his head for a long time, "No. You did it." I grin as I step away from him. He chuckles, "By God's grace, of course."

Sudden pressure on my shoulder and my eyes flew open. I jumped up and he took two steps away

"Hey... Are you okay?" the male voice asked, sounding uncertain.

"What is it?!" I shouted at him. His eyes went large as they roamed my face.

"I just came to check. To check on you," Ephraim replied. I could see his throat bob as he swallowed. After a pause, he said, "Have you been... crying?"

I instantly wanted to be far from him.

"Thank you, Mr Nice! But just learn to use your sense. I. Don't. Want. People. Around!"

I knew I was being unfair to him, but I was on the verge of losing my mind.

His oval face froze in shock as he stood in one spot, unmoving. When his expression shifted into concern, an unwanted tear fell down my eye. He took a step forward, but I stood my ground and turned my face to the side.

"Please, go," I whispered. I wiped the tear, but more fell.

I looked up when he didn't move. The compassion his eyes held felt like a sock to my stomach. His hand was raised in the direction of my face, as if to cup my cheek.

The melting that was happening in me made me want to accept his sympathy so badly.

But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

"You heard me," I glared at him as my voice shook.

Running a hand through his black, curly hair, he swallowed again in that painful way he did in class yesterday.

He nodded, "Okay. I'll go." His deep voice came out hoarse. He rubbed the back of his head and started to walk away from me.

I sank down on the hard bleacher again as he reached the middle of the field. My throat was dry and I gulped in air to soothe it.