The English teachers are like the mean girls of the teaching community at Salmon Ridge. I can’t focus on their opinions of me right now. If I do, I’ll simply freeze. The music for my song comes on and I forget the words. I miss my cue and I can feel all their eyes on me. Heat races up my neck and settles in my cheeks. My face is flaming red and possibly going numb. The sweat building up on my hands makes the microphone slippery as I quickly run my hands down my dress to get the wet feeling away and now they’re just clammy. My face on fire gives me a sure sign that it is beet red and my makeup will no longer be doing me any justice. It’s just like fourth grade all over again, I catch myself saying do not pee in my head. I do the only thing that makes sense to me, I turn to the side of the stage. I make sure to take the microphone with me miraculously not making that horrible screeching noise everyone hates.
I glance back and notice Lila looking at me making circular motions with her hand for me to continue and smiling her biggest cheesy smile. Somehow that gives me the slightest bit of hope and I focus. Taking a deep breath and letting it out.
There is a hush and by some miracle, the stagehand knows to start my music over. This is it. It’s now or never. If I miss this cue again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it. I listen to the flow of music, the ebb and flow of the melody, and then, here it comes it’s time for me to sing. I take a deep breath and it’s a miracle sound that comes out and I am singing. However, I am still facing the side of the stage where I can see no one. It’s utterly ridiculous, but hey, don’t judge me. It’s all about taking small steps. It’s one or the other. There is no in between when it comes to having stage fright. It’s serious business. The words come back to me and flow from my lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. I hope the students are at least happy I’m singing. I won’t look to find out.
I wrap my clammy hands around the microphone and the words carry me away. Everything melts away. As the melody builds in my chest and flows free, I pretend I’m in my shower. Everything finally clicks into place and all the students respond with wild cheers, applause, and whistles. Their reactions encourage me further. This is my moment and now everyone knows how I sound and from the response, it must not be that bad. It’s erasing some of the anxiety and I almost smile as I sing a song that means a lot to me.
Still, I can’t bring myself to turn towards the
crowd. I tell myself at least I’m doing it, so what if I’m not facing them. They can still see me. So, I’ll just sing to the people on the side stage. They’re part of the crowd too, right? Maybe crowd adjacent?
There’s an instrumental break in the song and I sort of sway, but it's awkward. I need to turn and face the crowd. It’s a must. Ready? Here I go. Willing myself to turn, I rationalize that if I can sing in front of a classroom, I can do this. It’s not different. Slowly I turn and without missing a beat, the notes flow perfectly from my lips.
I can feel the flow of the music through me. It’s pumping through my veins giving me the courage I need to do this. Adrenaline urges me further. I’m soaring now, this is what I was meant to do. For just a few minutes I’m invincible, and the world is my stage. I keep my eyes trained on the ceiling of the gym. I’m afraid if I allow myself to see the crowd I’ll lose whatever confidence I’ve somehow found. There’s a basketball stuck up in the big white pipes. It gives me something to sing to, something to focus on. Hey, don’t judge. If Tom Hanks can talk to a volleyball, then I can sing to a basketball. So, I belt out the lyrics perfectly. The bridge is coming up and it’s particularly tricky, testing my vocal range like nothing before.
Deep breath and here I go . . .
I nailed it. Maybe. At least I think I did. The song comes to an end, and I just stand there, wishing once more I had pockets to cram my hands into. Now that the song is over, the nerves decide to make another appearance. What do I look at now?
I can’t possibly look at a silent crowd. I don’t know where to look so I glance over to Lila who has a grin plastered on her lips. She probably hasn’t stopped smiling. I hold my breath, waiting to see if I’ve flopped or the crowd is happy. It’s completely silent. I swear I can hear crickets. Did I just hear someone cough? Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Do they not know the song is over? The silence is the scariest thing I’ve faced and it seems to go on forever.
Finally, someone claps and then others join in. One by one I watch as people climb to their feet. The applause gets louder, and I can feel it vibrating the stage beneath my feet. That’s for me. They are all clapping and cheering for me. I did it. I take a chance and drop my eyes and see everyone still standing and clapping. Even the English teachers sitting right in front are clapping for me. I manage to smile. They’re actually standing up for me.
I feel a sort of high that outweighs the fear. I bow slightly, smile, and rush off the stage into Lila’s arms. It’s a mix of nausea and adrenaline rushing through me that causes me to allow her to support my weight and guide me into a chair.
I’m in between riding a high and sweating with nerves. My whole body feels like Jell-O and my head sort of throbs with the dizziness of panic that had been threatening me on stage. Now I can feel everything all at once and will myself not to throw up. Wouldn’t that just be awesome? Puking after the fact. Well, I guess it’s better than doing it while on stage. I’ll take it as a win.
Chapter Three
Charlie
I watch as Thomas Mason scans the crowd of high school punks around me. My agent is looking for talent, and not in a sexual way. I’m not his only talent, but I’m the only one who is actually booking gigs at the moment. He’s a younger guy, only six years older than me. At thirty he prides himself on still having all his hair and an ability to pull tail. That’s what he characterizes as a successful look.
“Models can be discovered just going about their business,” he says to me, “models that bring me my big break.”
“I thought I was going to bring you your big break,” I say a little hurt but mostly frustrated we are here.
“You will too if you can find someone to sing with you.”
“I told you, Thomas. I’m a solo act. What’s not to love?” I turn around in a slow circle with my arms outstretched earning me an eye roll.
“You are a rich kid using daddy’s money to play Guitar Hero on the weekend. You need someone to make you relevant. You need a rag to riches storyline. You’re never going to get that so we have to combine you with someone else. Besides duets are all the rage right now.”
“I don’t even play video games,” I mumble to him. I swear the man is such a dick sometimes. Well, it’s nothing that I haven’t been called before, so I shrug it off.
“You know what I mean.” He straightens his tie and buttons up his suit jacket. Thomas’ thing is to wear the most ridiculous ties he can find. This one has kittens on it playing with little planets. Where does one even get such a tie? Did he get it for a buck fifty at Goodwill? I’m about to ask him, but he opens his mouth before I get a chance.
“You think some high school kid singing with me is going to look right to the world? I’m twenty-four years old and devilishly handsome.” I grin.
“We aren’t here to see a high school kid Charlie, we’re here to see an adult.” Okay, an adult. I’m still not overly happy about the idea. The last thing I need is to have to carry someone else while I’m performing. Besides, I don’t really like sharing the spotlight. Call me a jerk, but hey, it is what it is.
The kid on stage finishes up his long set of beat boxing and break dancing with a spin move and then they introduce the next act.
“This is her.” Thomas grabs my arm and points as a petite brunette woman in a bright purple dress trips onto the stage. I had missed her name during my complaining.
I tilt my head trying to get a better idea of what she looks like since Thomas and I were late and currently stand on the wall at the back of the gymnasium the charity concert is being held in.
“What’s she doing?” I ask as the woman stands completely still. Her song has already started and I’m pretty sure she missed the intro.