Silence. And then, slowly, mockingly, teasingly, two hands began to clap.
Even without turning around, I knew it was her. And I was almost totally sure that she would continue the slow clapping while walking up onto the stage, before she picked up the microphone.
I counted down from ten, and right on cue, I heard her amplified lip smack as she drew the moment out.
She never managed to begin, as I turned around, and for the first time in her life, my sister saw true hatred in my eyes.
She regretted setting me up from that moment on.