There had already been quite a few groups on stage whose performances left much to be desired.
Some even forgot their lines in the middle of their act, standing there nk and helpless, until the performance had to be awkwardly cut short.
Yet, no matter how poorly anyone did, the lowest possible score was always sixty a sort of encouragement grade.
No one had ever received a zero.
Now, a wave of shock rippled through the audience, the room buzzing with whispers and incredulous murmurs.
"What''s going on? Why did they get a zero?"
"Does anyone here speak French? Did they make some fatal mistake up there?"
"That can''t be it—even if they slipped up, they still finished the performance. That alone should be worth at least eighty points, right?"
"Wasn''t Marvin''s group actually really good? Honestly, I thought they did better than Keen''s group."
"I speak French-they didn''t make any mistakes at all."
On stage, Marvin saw the ring zero on the scoreboard and couldn''t help but panic a little.
He worried that maybe he''d messed something up and dragged Ste down with him, causing the judge to give them a zero.
Ste nced down at Marvin, her eyes gentle and reassuring.
Slowly, Marvin managed to steady his nerves.
The judge who had given Ste''s group a zero was a man in his thirties, sses perched on his nose.
He held up his scorecard and dered bluntly, “Ms. Cameron, I suspect you of cheating!"
"Cheating?!"
A collective gasp swept the room.
Even the other judges sitting beside him looked utterly stunned.
After all, this was a kindergartenpetition; cheating in such a setting was unthinkable. What kind of example would that set for the kids? What would they grow up believing if this sort of thing was allowed to slide?
Ste nced at the namete in front of the judge-Franco.
Her expression remained calm, as unruffled as if they were discussing the weather.
She replied with just one sentence: "Suspicion is not the same as proof."
Franco hadn''t expected her to stay soposed after being used in front of everyone.
He sneered, "I''ve heard you only have a middle school education. With that background, you expect me to believe you can speak French? Speak it so fluently? If you''re not cheating, then how do you exin it?"
Ste shot him a cool look. "Heard? From whom? Just rumors, then?"
"And who says someone with only a middle school education can''t learn French?"
"Mr. Franco, are you being prejudiced right now?"
"Would you like me to name a few influential people with modest academic backgrounds?"
Franco''s face twitched, caught off guard.
He realized he''d gone too far, his words harsher than he''d intended. He''d meant only to give Ste a hard time, as he''d been instructed, but now, standing here, she wasn''t meekly epting his censure instead, she was pushing right back.
It irked Franco, stoking his irritation.
He red at Ste, his expression growing darker.
He''d nned to let her off with a warning, but since she refused to y along, she left him no choice.
A cold smile curled at the corner of his lips. "Apologies-you''re right. My words were careless; I shouldn''t have judged your abilities by your education."
He paused, his gaze sharpening, voice colder than ever. "But tell me, Ms. Cameron: you''ve been a stay-at-home mom for five years without a job. What gives you the right topare yourself to great men and women of history?" Franco''s tone took on the air of a self-righteous crusader.
Still, Ste''sposure didn''t waver. Not a hint of embarrassment or shame crossed her face.
She looked him in the eye and answered, "I admit, I''m nothing like those heroes or historical figures. But tell me, Mr. Franco-does your advanced degree make you their equal?”
Franco froze, momentarily at a loss for words.
When it came to quick wit and sharp retorts, he was clearly outmatched.
Compared to Franco''s aggressive posturing, Ste''s voice was like a calm river, soothing and steady-impossible not to listen to.