The thought filled his heart and soul. If he stayed close to God, he could get through this. He would either go home at the end of this audition or shine from the
The way he’d failed to do so far today.
chapter
4
It was time.
In a blur of anxious conversations and shuffling feet, Zack and his group moved into the tent. The instructions were nothing new. All of it was on the show’s website. Still, the fifty singers stayed silent while a man with a megaphone explained. “We will announce a start time.” The man’s accent was distinctly British. “At that point you will sing your best song to the best of your ability.” The man seemed bothered, looking down at them from his place on a small platform at the front of the tent. “You will have three minutes. If your number isn’t announced at the end of the round, you will go home. No questions. Thank you for trying out. If your number is called, wait inside the tent for further instructions.”
Around Zack, people moved their feet and cleared their throats and tried to separate themselves from the crowd. Nervous energy sucked the air from the tent. Zack had seen TV footage of this part of the audition, fifty people singing every sort of song from every genre, trying to push their voices above the noise, desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame. But nothing he had seen prepared him for this, how it felt to have just one shot, one chance to impress the judges.
He glanced at the people in black shirts standing around the perimeter of the tent. None of them looked glad to be there. It had been a long day for everyone, and by now chances were Atlanta had given them what they were looking for. A few of them whispered to each other, and another checked his watch. The man in charge was talking to another group. The contestants began to whisper. A few squeezed in vocal exercises.
“I’m gonna be sick.” Zoey leaned toward him. She had been quiet since they entered the tent.
“You’ll be fine.”
The man in charge returned to the platform and glared at them. “Silence!” He nodded to a woman who was clearly his assistant. “Timer ready?”
“Ready.”
“Okay. Set . . .” He turned to the contestants. “Go!”
All around him people began singing, creating a noise that shook the tent and took Zack by surprise. The decibels must’ve been near that of a jet engine or a cheering stadium. If he didn’t focus quickly he would lose himself and his song in the mass confusion.
He couldn’t hear any voice but his own. Instead of worrying about who was walking past or evaluating him or crossing his name off a list, he forgot about everyone else in the tent. He hit the first chorus singing for a familiar audience of One.
God alone.
By the time he reached the second verse, Zack opened his eyes. Never mind the vampires bopping out to some fifties tune a few feet away or the pop song Zoey was belting or any other sound or song around him. He could hear only his. A spot on the tent wall caught his attention, but instead of red and white canvas, in his mind’s eye he was looking across a serene and distant ocean, the presence of God like a breeze against his face. He was able to get through the second chorus and halfway through the bridge before the man waved his hands. “Time. Everyone silent.”
Like that the contestants stopped. Several were breathless and a few had tears spilling down their cheeks. Zoey was one of those. She hung her head, her shoulders shaking. Though he’d tried to keep his distance all day, here she needed his support. He put his arm around her while they waited.
“This was one of the best groups we’ve seen.” The man looked surprised. “Most of you look more suited for a Halloween party than a hit reality show.” He took a piece of paper from his assistant. “That said, we’ve chosen four of you to move on to the next round. Here are those contestants.”
The man read a number and across the tent one of the gospel singers screamed. He grabbed the necks of his friends one at a time. “Praise Jesus . . . hallelujah!”
“Quiet, please.” The man waved his paper at the guy. “No celebrating until I’ve read all four numbers.”
“Yes, sir.” The gospel singer whipped back around, breathless. “Sorry, sir.”
The next number caused a vampire to drop to the ground, her hand across her mouth. Her companions looked more disappointed than happy for her. Zoey’s number was called third and she was immediately engulfed by her cheer squad.
Zack could already feel himself walking back to his truck. What had he expected from a situation like this? Instant success? No, he would go home with his future and his answers firmly in hand. And he would work three jobs if that’s what it took to save the—
“Our last contestant from this round is . . .” The man rattled off the number.
CHANDRA OLSON COULDN’T take her eyes off the television monitor.
This was the first day of Atlanta auditions, and for the most part—since this was the last weekend of city stops—Chandra knew the routine. She hadn’t paid much attention to today’s tent singing. She and the other judges weren’t needed until tomorrow afternoon, and in the meantime the show’s producers kept them busy with local media.
The judges had suites at the downtown Hilton, but they also had custom trailers in the back lot of the Georgia Dome, each with a live feed to the mass performances happening in the tent. Chandra had done interviews here all day and spent dinner with local network executives, so she hadn’t made it back to her hotel room.
She had just wrapped up a phone call with her manager and was about to grab her bag and have her driver take her to the Hilton when something caught her attention. The group of contestants filing into the tent. Six of them looked like gospel singers from a high school or college. She could sense something different about them even through the satellite feed.
Chandra turned up the volume and sank slowly into the trailer’s leather sofa. She watched the hodgepodge mix of singers, some who looked barely out of middle school and others who might be seizing their last chance at fame. William Gaines, the show’s contestant coordinator, led the audition process. Chandra smiled to herself as he barked at the contestants. She remembered this, the first step. How it felt to be crammed into a tent ready to sing alongside so many others.
After a few minutes of instructions, the singing began. Several sweet voices stood out among the chaos. Chandra focused on the gospel group. It was tough to pick out which of their voices sang so beautifully above the rest.
She watched them, suddenly aware.
Could it be one of them? Was this why she was a judge? So she could warn one of the innocent-eyed kids in that group about the perils of winning?
The trap of having the whole world idolize them?
Chandra stayed till the singers stopped and waited, watching William tally the results. Four of them had survived—more than any other group. Chandra slid to the edge of her seat. How could they know what lay ahead? That every perceived victory was only a step closer to losing themselves, losing life the way they’d known it. There would be no going back, but none of them knew that now. The choir group linked arms, waiting. They were
