“Ben, um, I believe your use of hair products is responsible for a significant loss of the ozone layer.”
Ben starts laughing. “That is hilarious.”
“And so true.” Jack reaches up to mess up Ben’s perfectly coifed hair, but Ben slaps his hand away before any real damage is done.
“And, Ethan …” Emme looks at me with a hint of mischief in her eyes.
Jack starts to clap his hands. “Oh, this one is gonna be good. You can do it, Red!”
“Ethan …” She looks up at me. “Ethan …”
She hesitates. I’m smiling like I’m waiting for my dis, but I’m really happy that she’s having such a hard time thinking of something nasty to say to me. Or she’s just being polite because we all know there are plenty of things she can use as ammunition.
“Ethan, you might want to consider more deodorant if you feel the need to do cardio before a performance.”
On second thought.
Jack barrels over, laughing. “And the student has become the master.”
“We’ve got this, guys!” Emme beams and I can tell that she means every word.
We get in our places and Emme leans in. “I don’t think you smell. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You smell nice…. I mean, you … never mind.”
I lean over and give her a kiss on the forehead.
She looks down at the floor and smiles. I move my head to brush my cheek against my shoulder to get a whiff of my pits, just in case.
Dr. Pafford introduces us and we take the stage. The reception is a lot more polite than we receive at gigs or school functions (when family members are obligated to be enthusiastic).
We start my song and everything feels right. After four years, our band is a tight, cohesive unit. At one point I glance at Emme, then turn to Ben, and they both look like they’re enjoying themselves.
Come to think of it, I am, too. And I’m sure if I had eyes in the back of my head, I’d see Jack with that intense/happy look he always has at gigs.
What’s odd is that the pressure was getting the spot. Not this, this is what we’re used to, what we love: performing, being a group.
It’s the uncertainty of being accepted that creates the drama in our lives.
My song ends and I head to the piano as Emme adjusts the microphone.
I look at her and know exactly what she’s going through. Although I only had to face a group of about twenty people at our first gig. She is looking out toward hundreds of administrators, talent scouts, and prestigious alumni.
But for me, these guys having my back gave me the courage to do it. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the desire to be a “front man” again without them behind me.
Emme glances at me and gives me a little nod as she starts playing her song. We all join in and I can hardly breathe as we approach the first verse.
She sings the first line and her voice is quivering and soft. A knot forms in my stomach. The next line is louder, but the shaking comes through a lot stronger.
There is a four-bar break and she steps away from the mic and I see her nodding now, trying to get into the song. If I could stop the song to give her a pep talk, I would. But it’s all in her hands now.
She approaches the microphone again for the second verse. She opens her mouth and a loud, clear voice comes out. I see some people sit up a little straighter in the audience.
I smile as I close my eyes and take in her voice. She’s got this. I try to concentrate on the chords, but I’m absolutely spellbound by her. I let the hours of practice take over, and go into automatic mode so I can witness her transformation to the lead.
The instrumental break comes and she turns around to us and she’s beaming. She smiles at me and my heart nearly bursts.
She sings the chorus once more and then the last note hangs in the air.
We get applause, greater than we did when we arrived onstage, but not the rousing ovation we’ve gotten in the past. This crowd is a little tougher.
Plus, we are performing for the possibilities of building our futures. Not to entertain our grandparents.
The four of us take center stage, link hands, and bow.
As we head offstage, I notice that Emme still has my hand … but she also has Jack’s.
As soon as we get offstage, Emme whispers to me, “I botched the first verse.”
“But you killed the rest of the song,” I assure her.
She squeezes my hand. “You were really great.”
I see Jack walk away to get a hug from Chloe. Emme’s hand is still in mine.
“So were you. I didn’t know you had such a big voice.”
She blushes. “Oh, well, I figured I had to do something, so I went with loud.”
“It suits Jack well.”
She laughs. Then looks down and it seems like it’s the first time she’s noticing that she’s holding my hand.
“Oh, sorry.” She lets go.
I want to grab it back from her. I want to grab
Instead I sit there silently as I watch her get approached by other students.
I hear a few words of congratulations thrown my way, but I don’t feel like celebrating.
I envisioned being done with the showcase as this momentous occasion. We’d get a standing ovation and the four of us would leave the stage and get in a group huddle. Tell each other how incredible we were and block out the rest of the world. Then when we broke up the huddle, Emme would look at me and realize how much I mean to her. I’d confess my love for her, she’d realize her true feelings for me, and we’d be together.
But instead, we’re all separated, talking to other people.
The showcase is over, my life is the same.
Nothing is going to change her feelings.
In a few short months, this part of my life will be done. We’ll all be going our separate ways.
I’m an idiot for thinking that one performance would change anything.
Maybe I should stop writing songs and start writing fiction.
Emme
I can’t find Ethan anywhere. I’ve been searching the post-showcase reception and he’s nowhere to be found.
Last time he disappeared, he ended up in the hospital. I get out my phone to text him, when I’m approached by a balding man in a suit.
“Excuse me, young lady, you were tremendous.” He hands me his business card. “I oversee a performing arts summer camp for ages eight and up. We’re looking for counselors to do music programs.”
“Oh, thanks.” He pats me on the back before he approaches Trevor with his card out.
I text Ethan and hear Mr. North call out my name. He comes over and shakes my hand. “That was fantastic. How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Making any connections?”
I shake my head. “Do you know who the Juilliard and Berklee representatives are?”
“They don’t come to the reception. All the heavy hitters have left. These are people usually looking for
