I took a deep breath and adjusted my dress. It was one I’d designed myself meticulously, incorporating classic water-sleeve elements. Each spin would create a graceful arc.
The moment I stepped onto the stage, I felt strangely calm. The spotlight illuminated me as I assumed my starting pose, waiting for the music to play.
But as soon as the first note rang out, I knew something was wrong. This wasn’t the music I had prepared.
I glanced up at the judges’ table and locked eyes with Ginger. She gave me a faint, mocking smile, casually flipping through her scoring sheet like none of this had something to do with her.
Before I could react, the big screen on stage suddenly lit up.
It was a video—footage of me practicing the stolen choreography.
Then, the lights in the venue came on, abrupt and blinding.
Ginger stood up, wearing a long, flowing white dress, and walked gracefully onto the stage. The music started again—it was the piece for my dance.
“Judges, audience, before we begin, I have something to reveal.” Her voice carried through the entire hall, amplified by the mic. “This contestant’s performance? It’s actually plagiarized from my original work.”