interns, summer help, free food …”
“Dan!” A woman in a gray suit calls out to Mr. North.
“And the alumni who want to relive their glory years. Duty calls….”
He heads toward the woman, and Tyler approaches me.
“You were really great tonight.” He gives me a quick hug.
“Thanks, so were you.”
He shrugs. “Well, Sarah and I have been practicing for months on the song. So …”
We both nod and I don’t think it could be any more awkward. I want to tell him that I like him, that I’m sorry things have been crazy, but truthfully, things are going to get even worse now that college auditions are next.
I get a text on my phone and it’s from Ethan.
“Oh, I, um …”
Tyler sees my screen. “No, of course. I think I need to work this room more than you anyway. Have a good one.” He walks away from me, and I stay frozen for a few seconds. I take one more look around the reception before I head out.
Ethan is sitting on the steps outside.
“Hey.”
He looks up at me. “Hey.”
I sit down next to him. “It’s a little cold out….”
He nods.
I can tell there is something wrong with him, but I have no idea what. He did amazing tonight; he always does. He can be too critical of his performance, but I was getting the feeling he didn’t really care too much about the showcase.
“Well, tonight’s been a letdown,” I say to him.
He looks at me with a weird expression.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just I feel the exact same way.”
“Sort of anticlimactic, huh?”
“Yeah, they’ve built up the showcase since freshman year and it’s done. And …” He lets his last word hang in the air.
“I thought we’d be swarmed by all these admissions people from Juilliard or the Manhattan School of Music. All I have is a pocket full of business cards with offers to teach music lessons. Which is a compliment, but still …”
He doesn’t respond.
“You know what I can’t help thinking about?” He stays silent. “These seashells that Sophie gives me … I guess
I’m not sure I’m making any sense.
“I forget who said it, but it was something like ‘focus on the journey, not the destination.’ You know what I’m going to remember most about CPA? It’s not the showcase, it’s being with you guys, our rehearsals, Jack’s crazy tales of our ultimate demises — everything.”
Ethan nods. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’ve all been chasing something that isn’t really there. At least I know I have.”
I don’t really know what to say. Ethan can be overly reflective at times, and now he seems somber, like he’s lost something. But we had a great evening. So we don’t have recruiters banging down our doors, but we do have something to celebrate.
I get up and hold out my hand. He stares at it and doesn’t move.
His reaction is depressing me even more. I’m so exhausted I want to just curl up in a ball and sleep for a year. But I can’t let this evening end like this.
“Ethan, it’s freezing out. Let’s get out of here. I’ll text Ben and Jack, and we can celebrate the fact that we not only survived the showcase, we rocked it. Come on, my treat! You know I couldn’t have done any of that if it wasn’t for you guys.”
He gets up, but doesn’t take my hand. He walks ahead of me and doesn’t speak the entire walk to the diner. Ben, Jack, and Chloe meet up with us, and none of us talk about the showcase. Because all along we assumed that was our challenge. That all the stress would disappear once it was over.
But it is only the beginning.
Our college auditions.
And we each have to go it alone.
Carter
There hasn’t been a single moment that I’ve regretted walking out of CPA’s doors. I’ll admit that the headline CARTER HARRISON: HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT made me cringe, but taking those weeks off with my mom in Italy was exactly what I needed. I was relaxed, I was inspired, I was plain old Carter.
But the vacation is over. I thought I’d come back and finally be able to support Emme for once as she gets ready for her college auditions. But she’s been in lockdown rehearsing and I’ve found that trying to accomplish years of work in a few months is a lot harder than I ever imagined it would be.
I’m watching my tutor look through my practice GED test. She keeps marking things up and nodding her head.
TUTOR: Okay, it’s not awful.
Well, that’s just fabulous news.
TUTOR: You did really well on the language arts sections, both the writing and reading. I guess all those years of reading scripts have paid off. What you’re having problems with is the math section, particularly with the algebra questions. You technically passed the math section, but we need to get that number up higher so your overall percentage doesn’t suffer.
She pulls out these bulky math workbooks from her bag, flips through the thin pages, and begins to mark sections with Post-it notes.
TUTOR: I want you to work on these five sections for our next meeting.
I look at the hundreds of algebra problems facing me in the next three days.
And here I thought I’d figured out the equation to my happiness.
I start going through the problems as my mom shows her out.
MOM: Do you want to get an algebra-specific tutor?
I shake my head.
MOM: You know you can take your time; you don’t have to take the exam right away.
ME: I know, but I want this to be over so I can move on to art school.
Mom sits down and pinches the upper bridge of her nose. I’ve only seen her do that a few times. The last
