Chapter 6: Rapping for Redemption

The next day was group performance time. Here we go.

This round was everyone’s first real test of their core skills after the initial stage. The top ten in popularity became team captains and picked their members—no refusals allowed. After the first stage, Savannah was ranked fifth and picked me first. I knew she would, but I thought I’d be an afterthought.

“Autumn, the song I got is pop-dance style, really different from your first stage. It’s a great chance to show versatility. And finally, we get a five-person stage together!”

For some reason, her words made my eyes sting. I held back tears and nodded hard.

I wasn’t used to being wanted, to being chosen first. It felt good, but it also made me nervous. I didn’t want to let her down. Not after all this.

In the practice room, we divided up roles. After hearing me sing, Savannah hesitated. “Autumn, your lyrics are right, but everything else seems off.” So, considering everything, I ended up as the team’s sub-rapper. Honestly, I was happy with that.

I threw myself into learning the rap parts, determined to make up for my lack of vocal power with attitude and rhythm.

By day, I practiced dancing and singing with everyone. At night, I locked myself in the changing room, writing lyrics and practicing over and over. Savannah said the most important thing in rap was rhythm, but to sound good, you had to rhyme. I was pulling my hair out. For two days straight, I worked until 3 a.m. But I started to get the hang of it. I practiced harder, thinking about lyrics and feeling the beat even while eating. I’d walk through dance moves in my head, jot down tricky parts on my hand, and review them whenever I got stuck. Even my teammates said I was doing great for a first try. But “great for a first try” wasn’t enough. The stage would be the real test.

I could hear my old acting coach in my head: “No one remembers the almosts. Only the winners.”

On stage, the lights poured down. The eight of us wore different styles of cyberpunk outfits, entering one by one. As the ace, Savannah opened with a killer vocal that had the crowd on their feet. I saw people screaming and cheering for her in the dark. Finally, it was my turn.

“Offstage, I pray with all my heart, hoping hard work will pay off.

If you’re here for the drama, better put your glasses on.

The clowns watching from the sidelines will never know how beautiful dreams can be.

They can turn trash into treasure, make me better every day.

Those who mock me now will end up screaming my name.”

The beat thumped in my chest, and I let the words fly. I made eye contact with the audience, daring them to doubt me.

At that point, maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I heard someone whistle in the crowd. My heart skipped.

“...If you lack faith, I’ll set the rules. Don’t listen to rumors—see for yourself. Shhh.” I ended with a finger to my lips, signaling for silence. The crowd went dead quiet. Then the screams exploded.

My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst. My teammates rushed over to hug me, but all I could hear was applause that roared like a stadium after a touchdown.

For the first time, I felt like maybe I belonged here.

Online, the comments blew up.

Bystander1: “I’ve smashed the ‘like’ button—she wrote those lyrics herself?!”

Bystander2: “Did Autumn really have zero experience? That last pose hooked me.”

Haters: “? Felt like a diss, but not sure. Gotta watch again.”

Even the haters sounded confused. I grinned, feeling a rush of pride.

We held hands, waiting for the scores. I got 92 points, third in the team—exactly what I’d hoped for. I did it. Proof that my hard work paid off. When all the groups finished, it was time for the first class placements. My stage score and popularity combined only got me into Class D. I knew my performance was solid. The real problem was my lack of popularity. Being hated by the whole internet finally caught up to me. Ouch.

I tried to keep my chin up, but it stung. I promised myself I’d climb out of Class D, no matter what.

That night, the show added a fan interaction segment. I signed up. I knew I probably didn’t have many fans, but even if just one person liked me, I’d stand in front of the camera for them. Surprisingly, the producers agreed right away. I showed up with a chalkboard. The host was stunned. When he saw I’d written out real GRE verbal questions, he was floored. I explained, “While filming a campus drama, I also earned a translator certification. Since the show barely broke a 1.0 rating, I figured I’d get roasted out of the industry, so I wanted a backup plan. In case I went back to grad school, I practiced GRE questions.” After all, if I really had to quit, there were plenty of things I could do. Even if I went back to school, I’d never stop moving forward. “Turns out, it was pretty easy.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but my nerves were buzzing. I just wanted to help someone, even if it was through test prep.

While the host was still in shock, I started teaching. I skipped the basics and focused on my close-reading techniques, using specific articles as examples and walking through the logic of the text. At the end, I encouraged viewers to join my fan group and try memorizing ten GRE words a day with me. Why not?

I tried to make it fun, tossing in jokes and mnemonics. I even challenged the viewers: “If you can outscore me, I’ll buy you coffee!”

What I didn’t know was, this segment went viral on Instagram overnight, gaining me hundreds of thousands of new followers. #AutumnBlakeTalentShowComeback #AutumnBlakeCoolRapStage #TrustAutumnAndYoullSucceed #HowManySurprisesDoesAutumnHaveLeft—hashtags like these dominated the charts all night. Meanwhile, my haters were losing their minds.

Bystander: “Forget it, I’m voting for Autumn tomorrow—she’s a great investment.”

Hater1: “? Sis, I’m here to roast you, not learn English.”

Hater2: “Help, I’m running out of insults. How is she good at everything except acting?!”

I couldn’t have scripted it better if I tried. For once, being a nerd paid off.