-Kye- Looking Up. (cont.)

  "Okay, CJ," says Blake, "What's your result?"
  "Nine."
  "Same here.  Warren?"
  "Eight."
  "Heath?"
  "Ten," he replies.
  Kye blinks.  She made it.  And only four points away from the top score possible.
  Blake asks for her number- for professional reasons, of course- and Kye gives it to him in a daze.  He tells her that they'll be contacting her in a few days so she can audition again.  Then she's packing up her guitar, walking out the door, brushing past the crowd of girls with anxious faces.
  She remembers what Haylor used to tell her in the treehouse: You could be famous, Kye.  That's how good you are.
  She never really believed him, though.  Until today.  Oh, how she wishes she could go back and tell him, or find him somehow. . . .  She has to shake the thought from her mind.  Impossible.  She knows that.
  But one thing she can't free from her thoughts: The boy whose eyes were on her, with the thick glasses and shaggy hair.  The one who gave her a ten.
  The only one who gave her a ten.
  Well, she made it, all right.  And that's enough for now.