I stood at rest position and then jumped into ready, holding the bachi over the gomi-kan. I counted aloud, “Ichi, ni, san, SO-RE!”
I lifted my right hand and the bachi flew out of my sweaty grip. A few students snickered. I nibbled my bottom lip and walked over to retrieve my stick. I curled my hands around the sticks with my thumbs wrapped tight, but not too tight. I stood at the gomi-kan again.
The whole auditorium was full of squeaks and creaks and whispers. I looked into the audience. Linnie nodded at me.
I started again. I hit the gomi-kan. Five hits and I shouted, “HA!” That made everyone stop rustling around. I hit it again five times and shouted, “HA!” Then I hit it eight times—and that was when my mind went blank. I shouted, “HA!” again but I knew that wasn’t right. The rest of the song flew right out of my head. I froze and then everyone started clapping like they thought that was the end of the song. I didn’t know what to do, so I bowed and walked off the stage, blinking back tears.
I could hardly watch the rest of the talent show. Everyone was better than me. Sophie’s class was the last performance. It was a really good play, and it almost made me forget about my horrible performance. Almost. Not quite.
It didn’t make Maggie Milsap forget either. When we walked back to our classroom, Maggie was right behind me.
“I was the best of all,” Maggie said loudly.
“You were wonderful, Jasmine,” Linnie said, and she squeezed my hand.
I was pretty sure Maggie was right.
12
TALENT-SHOW TIME!
At home after dinner on Friday, I practiced and practiced on the gomi-kan. I practiced until my throat was sore from HA-ing and SO-RE-ing. I practiced until my arms felt like rubber bands. I chanted “5, 5, 8, 5, 3, 3, 5, big 8” until it was like breathing.
“Jasmine,” Mom said, walking up to me in front of the garage. “I think you’ve practiced enough. In fact, I’ve never seen such dedication.”
“I’m not ready,” I said, breathing like I had run around the block a hundred times. I held the bachi at my side in resting position.
“Yes, you are,” Mom said. “I’ve been watching you from the kitchen window. You’re really good!”
“I messed up at dress rehearsal,” I said, my shoulders drooping. “I dropped the bachi and I didn’t even finish the song.”
Mom took my wobbly arm and pulled me over to the stuffed chair in the garage to sit down. “Sometimes we make mistakes, but nobody will know if you just carry on.”
“I’ll know. You’ll know. Kat will know.”
“So what?” Mom said.
That surprised me. Mom never said things like “So what.” “I’ll be embarrassed,” I said.
“Nobody ever died from embarrassment,” Mom said. “I’ll be proud of you just for being on that stage. Now get ready for bed. Tomorrow is a long day.”
The next afternoon we had to go to Sophie’s soccer game. I wouldn’t get to practice again. I followed Mom into the house and glanced sadly back at the gomi-kan, wishing I could practice all night long.
* * *
On Saturday night, my family drove to Drake Elementary. The school was lit up like a party. I’d never seen it at night before. Cars were crammed into the parking lot and along the street.
“Are you sure Kat is coming?” I asked for the hundredth time.
“Yes, Jasmine,” Mom said. “Please calm down.”
Inside the auditorium, it sounded like ocean waves. Voices mixed with the sound of feet and dragging equipment, roaring like the sea.
My parents gave me and Sophie hugs and told us we’d be great. As Dad hugged me, I saw Maggie. A man and a lady, probably her parents, hurried over to her. Maggie’s dad was tapping on his phone with a frown on his face. Maggie’s mom handed her a violin case and then chased after twin boys who must have been Maggie’s little brothers. And then Maggie was standing by herself.
Maggie looked up and saw me watching her. She glared at me and walked away toward the stage. I shrugged and followed her to where the rest of my class was supposed to meet.
Backstage, I found Linnie, who wore a silvery dress with a green bow.
“You look very pretty,” I said to her.
“Thanks,” she said. “So do you.”
I was wearing a long sparkly purple shirt and black leggings. I felt like a purple flamingo.
The lights flickered and the roar in the auditorium faded to a hush.
Mrs. Tasker stepped onto the stage. “Thank you for coming, friends and families of Drake Elementary. All the students worked hard, and I hope you’ll enjoy the show!”
The kindergartners sang their teapot song. The first graders did their sign language song. Before I knew it, we were lined up near the stage waiting for our turn.
“Are you ready?” Kat stepped up next to me.
My heart thumped louder than a taiko drum, even though I was happy to see her.
“I don’t think I can do it,” I said in a shivery whisper.
“I know you can,” Kat said. “Remember, it’s not about being perfect, it’s about having fun. Do you have fun playing taiko?”
I closed my eyes. Hitting the taiko made me feel strong. I loved the big sound of the drum. Every time I played, I had fun! I was excited to play the hira-daiko again. I nodded.
“Then that’s all that matters,” Kat said. She held up a rectangular piece of cloth. “Your mom told me that purple is your favorite color.”
I nodded again. The fabric was white with pretty purple flowers.
“This is a hachi-maki,” Kat said. She folded the rectangle twice and then twisted it until it was a long roll. She wrapped it around my forehead.
