After we’re all satisfied, our attention turns to Emme’s song. I move my mic stand down several inches so the microphone can reach her.
She tentatively approaches the mic and adjusts it for way longer than she needs to. She finally turns around. “Um, okay. I guess we’ll start. So I was thinking that it would be best for me to start first.” She strums several chords and then nods for the rest of us to join in. We get to the part where she’s supposed to start singing and she simply keeps playing the song. “Obviously I’ll sing here,” she says as she moves closer to the drum kit and farther away from the microphone.
Jack stops drumming. “Red, you’ve got to own the song and the mic. Go all ‘Beat It’ on it!”
“I’m embarrassed.”
Jack groans. “If you can’t sing in front of us, how are you going to do it at the showcase?”
“I don’t think I can do it.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Can we take a break?” I ask. Both Jack and Ben leave the room. Emme remains frozen.
I wrap my arm around her. “You can do this.”
“I don’t know why I agreed to audition in the first place.”
“Obviously, the board saw something in you.”
She nods for a few minutes. “I’m not used to singing anywhere besides your studio.”
“Okay, so close your eyes.”
She looks up at me and it kills me that she doesn’t trust me enough to just close her eyes.
“Please trust me.”
She closes them.
“Okay, pretend that we’re in my studio. Sing.”
“I feel silly.”
“Not as silly as you’ll feel if you become a mute onstage.”
She feels around her guitar and strums until she finds the first chord. She starts playing and then she opens her mouth. Her lovely voice comes out and floats and twists in the air. Granted, she hasn’t had the years of training that the singers in the vocal department have had. So she’s not a technically proficient singer. But what makes her special is her soul. She makes the song hers. You don’t need to leap ten octaves to do that. You just have to feel it. I’m mesmerized when she sings. I’m only inches away from her while she’s lost in her song, breathing every inch of her in.
She finishes and I make her start again. She plays and I do my best to navigate my awkward, gangly body as quietly as possible to get Jack and Ben back in the room. The door makes a tiny squeak, but she doesn’t stop. Jack and Ben come in and Jack stops dead in his tracks as he hears her sing. His mouth drops open and mouths, “Oh my Red!”
As she strums the final chord of the song, she smiles and opens her eyes. She looks over and her cheeks grow hot when she sees Ben and Jack.
Jack starts to clap. “Red, is there a reason you haven’t been singing all this time? We could’ve been the band with the hot chick singer. Man. Although there’d be more dudes at the shows, so I guess this is a good thing. Not like the girls that fall over this one are anything to write home about.” He winks at me.
I don’t blame Jack when he says stuff like that, but I cringe inside that Emme has to hear it.
“Okay, do it one more time, with your eyes open, and we’ll just listen, okay?”
She hesitates. “Okay.”
By the third run-through, she’s comfortable enough that we all join in. I’ve heard countless songs that Emme has written. But playing along with her, I realize how intricate the chord progressions are, how intimate the lyrics are. It makes me want to go back and read everything she’s ever written. It also makes me realize something, and I’m pretty sure I’m not blinded by my infatuation on this one. Everybody has always said that I’m the best songwriter in class and I’ve always believed it.
Until now.
If I’m counting correctly, we are only halfway through the showcase, and already backstage we’ve had three people puke, one dancer faint, and one act come off the stage in tears.
What a wonderful way to show off the most talented students at CPA.
My mind starts to race and I get up and start to do jumping jacks. Any physical activity helps distract me. Jack enlisted himself to be the comic relief/distracter to Emme. But I secretly think that Jack’s playing the clown to sidetrack himself from the upcoming performance.
I really wanted the job of being with Emme, but I’m so worried that I’d say the wrong thing … or that something would go wrong and I’d get blamed for it. So I’m here if she wants me.
The list of upcoming performers starts to dwindle. From backstage we can hear the different songs and performances. It really is inspiring to be part of this, but terrifying to close the show.
We’re given the notice that we’re next. We head to the wings of the stage. Jack motions for us to get in a circle so he can give us his pep talk.
“So …” Jack clears his throat. “We …”
Is Jack Coombs at a loss for words? I guess we don’t have to worry about the performance since the world is clearly going to end.
“Guys.” Emme speaks. “I want to thank you for being there for me, and not just tonight, but the last four years.”
There is an understood silence between us. Jack likes to think he speaks for us, but Emme is the one who gets us the most.
Jack sighs. “All this sincerity is starting to freak me out.”
Emme laughs. “Fine. Jack, you need to learn to start chewing with your mouth closed.”
“That’s more like it!”
“Ben, um, I believe your use of hair products is responsible for a significant loss of the ozone layer.”
Ben starts laughing. “That is hilarious.”
“And so true.” Jack reaches up to mess up Ben’s perfectly coifed hair, but Ben slaps his hand away before any real damage is done.
“And, Ethan …” Emme looks at me with a hint of mischief in her eyes.
Jack starts to clap his hands. “Oh, this one is gonna be good. You can do it, Red!”
“Ethan …” She looks up at me. “Ethan …”
She hesitates. I’m smiling like I’m waiting for my dis, but I’m really happy that she’s having such a hard time thinking of something nasty to say to me. Or she’s just being polite because we all know there are plenty of things she can use as ammunition.
“Ethan, you might want to consider more deodorant if you feel the need to do cardio before a performance.”
On second thought.
Jack barrels over, laughing. “And the student has become the master.”
“We’ve got this, guys!” Emme beams and I can tell that she means every word.
We get in our places and Emme leans in. “I don’t think you smell. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You smell nice…. I mean, you … never mind.”
I lean over and give her a kiss on the forehead.
She looks down at the floor and smiles. I move my head to brush my cheek against my shoulder to get a whiff of my pits, just in case.
Dr. Pafford introduces us and we take the stage. The reception is a lot more polite than we receive at gigs or school functions (when family members are obligated to be enthusiastic).
We start my song and everything feels right. After four years, our band is a tight, cohesive unit. At one point I glance at Emme, then turn to Ben, and they both look like they’re enjoying themselves.
Come to think of it, I am, too. And I’m sure if I had eyes in the back of my head, I’d see Jack with that intense/happy look he always has at gigs.
What’s odd is that the pressure was getting the spot. Not this, this is what we’re used to, what we love: performing, being a group.
It’s the uncertainty of being accepted that creates the drama in our lives.