Ice (Shooting Stars 2)

"Good," his father said. He smiled at me. "Good," he continued and turned away.

We hurried out and to the car.

"Sorry about all that," Balwin said as we drove off.

"Maybe we had better cool it for a while," I suggested.

"Just awhile," he said nodding. "We'll start again after the concert Saturday. okay?"

"We'll see." I said.

Little did I know what my hesitation would come to mean to him. but then. I had no idea myself.

Our annual spring concert was always a very well-attended affair. We had an excellent, awardwinning orchestra as well as an award- winning chorus. Many people attended who didn't even have students participating. They just knew they would get their money's worth buying a ticket to one of our concerts.

Most of the proceeds went toward a scholarship for a worthy musical student. The winner or winners were announced just before the final choral number of the evening. Mr. Glenn called up the principal to make the presentation. Everyone was sure that Balwin would be this year's recipient. After all, he had volunteered his services for the chorus for more than two years now and had even performed solo at past concerts, always bringing the audience to its feet.

Despite his father's reluctance to praise Balwin for his musical abilities, the accolades and the congratulations he and Mrs. Noble received made it impossible for him not to at least appear proud. It wasn't hard to set, however, that he had hopes Balwin would eventually go on to pursue a career that held more financial promise. Balwin told me that if he hadn't been chosen in an early admissions program to attend Juilliard, his father would surely have pressured him to go to Harvard or Yale, both of which had accepted him, and then get an MBA.

"He's got to get it out of his system," was Mr. Noble's favorite expression whenever anyone talked to him about Balwin's pursuit of music. It was as if he believed music was like an infectious disease or something, a flu or virus he had to purge from his soul, Mr. Noble seemed to think that with time. Balwin would simply outgrow it.

All this applause was nice, he told friends, but when it came right down to it, applause didn't put food on the table or pay for an elegant home or provide a good living. For that. Balwin would eventually have to turn his attention to more mundane things like following in his footsteps perhaps and becoming a financial advisor, manager or even a company chief financial officer. He could always buy a piano and play for people on holidays, couldn't he?

"After all, how many people do you know," his father would ask someone, "who make a very good living on entertainment? We all can't be Frank Sinatra," he pointed out with a laugh.

I heard him say these very things in the auditorium lobby during the concert's intermission. Balwin heard them, too, and was embarrassed enough to try to lose himself in the crowd.

"I've got to check on something," he told his mother and slipped away.

My mama and daddy had come to the concert. I was surprised Mama had actually shown up, even though she had gone into her room to prepare long before I left. She always thought the music was too stuffy and made her sleepy. I had to admit that she looked very nice, dressed in a dark blue dress with her pearls and her hair and makeup perfect. She was enjoying a lot of attention, and every once in a while, glanced at me with her eyes dancing, brightly filled with pride. Daddy looked somewhat uncomfortable beside her, his tie like a hangman's noose on his neck. He flashed me a smile and made his eyes roll toward Mama who had just let out one of her sweet sounding laughs while she absorbed a compliment from someone else's father.

We were called back in to finish the concert. The second half began with three orchestra numbers and then a chorus number, after which the auditorium grew very quiet. Mr. Glenn introduced the principal who stepped forward and announced that this year the school had extremely worthy recipients for its prestigious music scholarships. He then began with a very detailed rendition of all of Balwin's

accomplishments. I had forgotten myself how he had often gone over to the elementary school to help that chorus rehearse and once had performed a small assembly program for the primary classes.

The audience rose to its feet when he was called forward to receive his scholarship. I clapped as hard as I could, He glanced my way and smiled and then stepped up and thanked the school and his parents. He promised to make good use of the scholarship.

Again, there was a hush in the crowd. The principal put on his reading glasses and began by describing someone who was truly a discovery, "a jewel so covered in modesty, someone could walk right by her. Until." he added lifting his

head to look out at the audience, you heard her sing. Then, there is no question. It is with great joy that we present a scholarship to someone who has the potential to make us very proud citizens of this school. Ice Goodman."

At first. I didn't realize he had uttered my name. I stood there, waiting for another name. Mr. Glenn turned to me, beaming, and the others looked at me. too. All their eyes brought the reality home. I thought I would be unable to take a single step. but Mr. Glenn came forward and reached for my hand to escort me to the podium.

Balwin's face was so full of joy, his eyes glittered like tiny stars in the footlights. I thought I would surely faint. My heart was beating so fast. I couldn't find a breath.

The principal handed me the envelope and stepped back. I knew that meant I had to say something. Everyone in the auditorium was looking at me, waiting.

"Thank you," I said. Then I turned and hurried back to my place. No one applauded.

The principal stepped forward, laughing.

"She makes up for all that when she opens her mouth to sing, folks. Just sit back and enjoy the final number."

The audience finally applauded.

I did sing hard and strong until the final note, after which Mr. Glenn congratulated me first and then most of the chorus. Balwin and I remained backstage waiting to greet our parents. Mama was in her glory. She feasted on the accolades and compliments as if she had expected them, and then Daddy revealed that they had been informed of my impending award so that they would be sure to attend the concert.

"We're very proud of you, honey, very proud," he said hugging me.