Fifteen Minutes

Zack wished they had another day to rehearse. The producers had them busier than ever, filming a Jeep commercial all day Monday and hosting a number of reporters on Tuesday in anticipation of the show’s debut next week. Every remaining hour was spent in rehearsals, but even that didn’t feel like enough.

On top of everything, Zack had exchanged only a few texts with Reese and his parents. The pressure was intense. Reese had assured him that she understood. His parents, too. Zack needed to put everything into making it through to the next round. And that meant he had to focus on his group’s number.

Zack sat eight rows from the front, next to Zoey. Like always. The girl was like glue. No matter how much he talked about Reese, Zoey found her way beside him. It could’ve been his imagination, but it seemed whenever Zoey leaned in to talk to him, one of the cameras caught the move. Kip had asked earlier today for an update on the budding romance.

“There’s no romance.” Zack had tried not to sound angry. Last thing he wanted to do was get on Kip’s bad side. Still, he was tired of the talk about him and Zoey. “She’s a friend. Nothing more.”

“Sure.” Kip had winked at him.

Now Zack looked to the wings and saw Kip talking to one of the production assistants. Standing beside them was a cameraman and sure enough his lens was aimed straight at Zack and Zoey. He looked at the stage and tried to block from his mind whatever story the producers were creating.

The rest of their group sat nearby.

“We’re up in three acts.” Zoey leaned in and whispered near his ear. “I’m scared to death.”

“We know the song.” He smiled at her. The sort of smile reserved for his sister. “We’ll do great.”

“I wish we had more time. We need it. You said so yourself.”

“Everyone needs more time. We’re good.” Regardless of what he thought, he needed Zoey to be calm. “You’ll be great.”

“But Zack”—she brought one knee up to her chest—“aren’t you a little scared? I mean, we’re at Carnegie Hall.”

“Zoey.” Zack forced a smile. “You need to focus. No more questions.”

“What?” She looked like a child who hadn’t gotten her way. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” He cast her a side glance. “Carnegie Hall or not, you can sing. You’ll be fine.” He looked straight ahead. “Just give it a rest for a minute.” He drew a deep breath. Why did she have to be a part of every waking moment of his Fifteen Minutes experience? There were other guys. Single guys. He felt bad for her, for her insecurities, so he tolerated her. That was all.

Even when he could feel the cameras on them.

She folded her arms. “I was just saying. I mean, Carnegie Hall. I still can’t believe it.” Zoey leaned back in her seat and looked around the hallowed white ornate walls. “Think of all the people who’ve performed here.”

She wasn’t going to be quiet. Clearly. Zack kept his eyes straight ahead and thought about her last statement. She had a point. They knew their song, and in most ways this audition was only a means to an end. William Gaines had told their group that morning they’d have to forget most of the words or fall off the stage to be sent home at this point. Zack and the others were pretty much through to the top forty. A troubling thought came to Zack. He hadn’t prayed about their upcoming performance since first thing this morning. The realization felt strangely foreign. He couldn’t be too busy to pray, couldn’t rush past this moment without taking it in, without thanking God for getting him this far. Lord, use me today . . . use our group. Let me shine for You. Thanks for letting me be here at all.

Zoey leaned in close to his arm. “What do you think of them?” She nodded to the stage. The group was mostly country singers, and the sound attempted to be something close to Lady Antebellum. It fell short, but Zack didn’t want to say so. “They’re all right.”

“I think we’re better.”

Zack shifted so there were a few inches between him and Zoey again. “No guarantees today. We’ll need to bring it.”

“You’re right.” Zoey leaned in again. “But you think we’re ready, right?”

Zack didn’t say a word. He looked at her and then at the stage again. He couldn’t make her be quiet. He scanned the front of the auditorium. Production assistants were everywhere, bringing meals and water, connecting contestants with instructors brought in for wardrobe expertise, vocal training, and movement design. Whatever that meant. All of them talked. The consensus seemed to be that Zack’s group was one of the strongest. The gospel singer from the first round back in the tent was one of their five. Each of them could sing.

Zack definitely believed his group was one of the best. Certainly better than the country singers onstage. He felt a surge of competitiveness mix with an ugly kind of pride. The sort he barely recognized in himself. The feeling didn’t sit well and Zack closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? If God allowed him to make it through to the next round it would be to glorify Him. Not because he had sized up his competition and decided he was a better singer or a stronger performer. He had to keep himself in check on so many levels.

He blinked his eyes open as one of the singers onstage forgot several seconds of the lyric. Zack felt for the guy. The next singer forgot words, too, and the youngest girl in the group began to cry midsong. Long before the country group finished, Cullen Caldwell waved them off. “Stop!” He stood and scowled at the five singers. “Are you blokes serious?” His Australian accent was sharper than usual. “You’re trying to make the top forty with that? You don’t even know the words.” Cullen wore all white as usual, this time with a fluorescent green knit cap. He motioned them off the stage once more. “Someone get the next group out here. The five of you are done. Go home!”

Just like that their time on Fifteen Minutes was finished. Theirs was the first group eliminated, even though according to show tradition, no group was officially eliminated until tomorrow, after everyone had competed. Zack pressed his back to the hard pew and winced at Cullen’s harsh tone. The singers hung their heads, all but one. A woman in her late twenties. “Please.” She walked to the edge of the stage, her eyes scanning the judges. “This is my last chance. I mean, I have two kids at home and this is my dream. Can we try it again? We didn’t even finish.”

“No.” Cullen was still standing. He pointed her off the stage. “You sounded like cats locked in a freezer.” He sat down and stared at his notes. “Next group!”

Zoey looked at Zack, her eyes wide. “Intense,” she mouthed. “Now I’m really scared.”

“Pray.”

“I don’t know how.”

Zack held his finger to his lips. If they got caught talking, they could be the next ones kicked out. Especially with the tension in the room.

Zoey pressed. “Let’s talk later, okay? I want to know how to pray. I need it. I’m so nervous.”

Zack nodded, more so she wouldn’t keep talking to him. Did she really want to learn how to pray? Was that what she hoped to talk about? Zack wanted to believe her. Maybe if he talked to her about God she would understand him better, how he was only here because of his faith in Christ, how that and his family and Reese were what kept him going.

The next group took the stage, this one full of hipsters singing a whiny folk song from the sixties. Zack watched, wondering what Cullen would say or if he’d let them finish. The trouble with Zoey’s flirting, the way he missed Reese, the conversation he’d had with his father last night—all of it weighed on him. The farm was in worse shape than any of them thought. It wasn’t just the mortgage that was behind. They owed back taxes, too. His father didn’t share many of the details, even when Zack pressed. But yesterday he could hear the despair in his father’s voice.

“Don’t worry about us. God has a plan,” he had told Zack. “You’ll stay as long as He wants you there.”

Zack had felt his emotions get the better of him as the call ended. “I love you, Dad. Tell Mom the same.” If it weren’t for the fact that he’d made it this far, he would’ve climbed in a cab, headed for LaGuardia and caught the next flight home. He couldn’t, though, because the Lord had allowed him to make it this far. He would see where the next round might take him.

The hipsters were allowed to finish, but watching Cullen mutter in Kelly Morgan’s direction told the rest of them that the group didn’t have long. They’d almost certainly be cut the next day. Zack and Zoey and their group filed to the side stage, and Zack motioned for them to hold hands. “Is it okay if we pray?” He looked at Zoey and