Grayson purposely leaving me alone was never a good sign. Practically inhaling his lunch, he left the cafeteria without an explanation. The spark in his blue eyes and the sly smirk told me he was up to no good. My friends laughed at my paranoia, but I knew he was planning something. They weren't forced with his presence at every waking moment. They didn't understand the unsettling feeling and fear of Grayson's secret plans. Something was in the works, and with his track record, I didn't foresee an enjoyable experience.

     Teeth suddenly chewing my meal just as quickly as he had his, I finished my sandwich shortly after his departure. Hurriedly rising from my seat, in one hand I grabbed my lunch box, and the other pulled Shawna from her seat, dragging her along with me. I didn't even try to deny my friends' accusations that I didn't trust Grayson. I did in fact, not trust him, and I was determined to catch him before he could bring me profuse embarrassment.

     Shawna and I roamed most of the school halls before my suspicions were confirmed. Steps coming to a halt, I narrowed my eyes apprehensively. Not far from the main entrance, Grayson chatted amicably with the school principal.The typically serious, silver haired woman was genuinely laughing at Grayson's latest remark. Impressed by his ease with new acquaintances, Shawna laughed. I, on the other hand, was not amused. Eyes following Grayson to the poster he was pinning to the announcement board, my gaze hardened. In bright, bolded colors, the poster publicized a sign-up sheet for a talent show. Manicured hand pressed against her lips; Shawna's laughter grew as she too read the bright words. I had been right to doubt him.

     Overcome with sudden dread of the foreseen development of his emerging plans, I remained frozen until Grayson reached for the pen. In hardly illegible writing, Grayson scrawled my name in the first slot. Marching frantically his way, I failed to shove him out of the way. Wincing as Grayson and I wrestled for the pen, Mrs. Anderson wisely took a step backwards.

     "Not doing it!" I said seriously.

     "Unfortunately, it has already been written in pen," he feigned empathy. "There's no erasing it."

     Successfully stealing the pen, I scribbled over my name. "Keep me out of—"

     "Why do you always have to put up a fight?" Grayson complained, easily retrieving the pen from my grasp.

     "Why do you continuously put me in ridiculous situations? I'm—"

     His index finger suddenly placed against my moving lips; my words came to an abrupt halt. Inhaling sharply, I surveyed him with fiery eyes.

     "I'm sorry to have to use this so soon, but..." Fumbling with his jean pocket, he held a blue coupon in front of my face. "Compliance without complaint," he explained, as if I couldn't read my own writing.

     Jaw clenched, hard gaze never leaving his, slowly I retrieved the blue piece of paper. Only then did his unbothered state flicker. Grimacing he once again reached for his pocket. I took the Instant Forgiveness card, without a word. Shooting me a nervous smile, I could only clench my teeth in response. The coupon gift had been a dumb joke, but still my integrity kept me to my promises. I couldn't find it in myself to voice my complaints, but I hoped the intensity of my glare made my silent words known.

     "It'll be fun," he promised, hesitantly.

     It most certainly was not fun. For an entire week we spent every hour we could spare practicing the cheesiest hula-hoop and jump rope routine. The choreography had evidently been crafted by two nine-year-olds, but if I could pin-point an upside to the humiliation, it was Grayson's lack of coordination resulting in an incredible form of entertainment. His attempts of flexibility and coordination were laughable.

     Always taking things to the extreme, Grayson had not planned the event as a small show between classmates. Students from every grade had signed the sheet, and set to occur late on a Friday night, friends and families were invited. It seemed he wished as many people as possible to witness our humiliating circus act.

     Too soon, Friday night arrived. In my pink knee-high socks, matching shirt, and bright yellow shorts and headband, staring at the rows of spectators, I didn't feel so good. The ridiculous neon outfits did nothing to ease my nerves. At first, I had been relieved to note that Grayson looked even more ridiculous than I, but the second-hand embarrassment had become nauseating. The tight shorts and headband look did him no favors.

     "I'm going to hurl," I told the walking neon green glow stick, desperately clutching my stomach.

     "You'll be fine," he promised. The promise was not uttered confidently.

Hoops and ropes ready, curtains soon to open, I studied Grayson. Cheek pressed tightly between his teeth, eyes skirting the room speedily, dreadfully I realised that he was as nervous as I. He didn't tend to be made easily uncomfortable. If he had reason to worry, I certainly did too.

     "Is there something you're not telling me?" I inquired cautiously.

    "No," he blurted instantly.

     The word was spoken much too quickly; I groaned into my hands.

     "Come on, Alex!" He whined, still shooting uneasy glances towards the soon to be crowd. "I'm not as stupid as you think. Sure, back then it was cute; everyone was just as bad. But I am very much aware that we are going to look like proper fools, today. I mean compared to these actual talents..." He gestured aggressively towards the waiting contestants. "Great idea inviting Luke by the way!"

     Luke's act not long having come to an end, he was off-stage, carefully putting away his piano. Luke had been playing the piano since he was five; his set had practically been perfect. When I had convinced him to join the show, I had laughed at the poor suckers that would have to follow him. Little did I know that I would be that sucker.

     "You're doing a poor job of reassuring me," I accused.

    "I'm struggling to keep down my own supper."

     I had no time to question him. Whipping my head towards the sound of rustling curtains, a disgruntled noise escaped my throat. Looking towards Grayson for reassurance, instead I found such an intense look of dread, that for a moment I believe he would bolt. I really wished he had.

     "It'll be fine," he muttered. I couldn't decide if he was reassuring me or himself. "If we mess up, we go down together."

     I did not like the sound of that. Brows shooting into my hairline, I shot him a look of caution.

     "We go down together," he repeated, tone and gaze urgent.

     Curtains fully opening, time ran out. If he had something planned, I hoped for his sake that he hadn't overestimated my consideration.

     We go down together, he had said. If only I had known how literal, he would mean the words.

     Grayson freezing dramatically as if struck with stage fright, we missed our first cue. We were already off rhythm. It certainly didn't make for a promising beginning.

     We were completing the routine as we had practiced, but Grayson did so uncertainly, fumbling with the hoops. Eyes strained on his feet; it was an exaggerated uncertainty. He was putting up an act and that was never a good sign.

     Accidentally kicking a hoop off the stage, I watched my supposed best friend with exasperation, foreseeing even greater embarrassment. Despite the misfortune of hoops flying into the crowd, everything went downhill when we raised our sparkly jump ropes. Loud squeak as running shoes glided against the ceramic stage floor, Grayson tumbled dramatically to the floor. While the crowd gasped, I moaned, knowing very well that every part of what had just happened, had been deliberate.

     Distracted by the rolling clown, my rope lay motionless. I noted a particular cue in the song, but I couldn't recall what it was meant to represent. Staring cluelessly at my routine partner, I watched Grayson roll to his side, unceremoniously attempting to recover himself. Propping his head on his bent arm, he smiled broadly at the crowd. Stunned silence turned to laughter. Grayson seemed to relax, but still he made no move to stand. Instead, he waited. Sprawled on the floor, he shot me a pleading side glance. At first, I didn't understand what he was waiting for, but then I recalled his earlier words, we go down together.

     I didn't care that every spectator likely watched me expectantly; I let my shoulders slump and shut my eyes with a loud sigh. Only because I saw no other way out and because I had previous experience with Grayson's unrelenting willpower, did I follow his lead. Purposely tripping on my feet, I fell with much more grace. Rolling into the same position he held, I didn't smile at the crowd as he had. Though it was rather difficult with the roaring laughter, I was choosing to pretend that the many cafeteria chairs were empty. No one was looking at me; I was alone to suffer the humiliating repercussions of my best friend's actions. Routine completely forgotten, I fixed an intense glare on Grayson, waiting for him to take the lead.

     Scrambling to my feet as he did, I contemplated running away while he retrieved more hula-hoops from the floor. Fumbling clumsily with the hoops, he successfully retrieved two, but accidently kicked another off the stage, into the first row of spectators. I hid my face in my hands from second-hand embarrassment. I couldn't decide if he had done so on purpose or had genuinely become nervous.

     "Just stand still," he whispered.

     Removing my hands to shoot him an incredulous look, immediately I understood his intentions. All those hours perfecting our choreography; wasted. He was winging a new routine. And it seemed his brilliant idea was to use me as a ring toss target.

     The first hoop missing my body entirely, the second hit me between the eyes. He feigned poor aim, but I knew he had hit his target. Jaw clenched, I retrieved the hoop at my feet and threw it his way with greater force than he had. Blue hula-hoop meeting his forehead, Grayson rubbed his head but cracked his first genuine smile since we stepped on stage.

     Running around cluelessly, gathering our props, by the time I understood Grayson's gestures, the song came to an end. We both sighed in relief. Quickly taking my hand, Grayson guided us into a bow, before hand in hand dashing off stage. Safely out of view, I cradled my head in my arms, groaning loudly. Grayson stood a step further than he usually would, as if anxiously waiting for an outburst.

     "That was... interesting," Luke remarked politely, lips failing to hide his smirk.

     "And here I thought you were set to get first place," Blake joked, hazel eyes sparkling as she met Luke's gaze.

     Noting their evident amusement, watching Grayson's unsure stance, and imagining the crowd's reaction to our ridiculous number, I couldn't help but burst into laughter. Initially Grayson was highly confused by my giggles, but eventually his lips fell into a soft smile.

     "You are something else, Grayson Ryder!" I exclaimed in between gasps of laughter.

     Grayson didn't disagree. He chuckled softly as my body continued to shake in giggles. I laughed until my sides ached; our performance so ridiculous that I couldn't find it in myself to be annoyed.

     It was safe to say we weren't crowned winners that night. Luke went home with the first-place prize, while Grayson and I came home with plastic trophies that Claire bought at the dollar store. Our performances deserved no prize, not even one of pity, but I was strangely glad to place the cheap plastic on my nightstand, a lasting reminder of the evening.