Preaching to the Choir

by Kitty Parker

  "Oh…alright," I said, not really satisfied.

  "You know, Lotte," began Eden delicately. "He's not that bad a guy."

  "He's actually pretty funny," Jane chimed in.

  "And nice," Brigid added, referring to the night before (which I had informed her of).

  "Why do you hate him so much, anyway?" asked Jane.

  I furrowed my brow, thinking about it. Why did I hate him? "I don't know… he's just… Kurt. It's hard to explain." I lay back on the bed and rubbed my temples with my fingertips.

  Brigid giggled. "You know, you guys would make such a cute couple."

  My eyes opened wide. "Please tell me I did not just hear that." I sat bolt upright. "You have got to be joking, right?" I was getting oddly flustered over this…

  "Nope," said Brigid, smiling. "You really would. That is, if you could ever learn to stop hating each other."

  Jane snorted. "That'll be a cold day in hell," she muttered.

  "Tell you what, Brigid," I joked, coming over and putting my arm around her shoulders. "The day that you can find the devil dressed like an Eskimo, living in an igloo, and chilling out with a bunch of penguins, I'll go have wild, crazy sex with Kurt Matthews. How's that?"

  Brigid laughed. "Sounds like a plan."

  ----------------

  The night of the concert, everyone was nervous. We nervously waited in one of the rooms behind the sanctuary of St. Paul's for the signal to go out. Eden had taken to pacing around the room and I had taken to watching her, my eyes going back and forth as though I was a spectator at a tennis match.

  "Eden, you'll be fine," I reassured her as she passed in front of me for the twenty-fifth time.

  She stopped and looked at me. "What makes you think I'm worried?"

  I looked at her pointedly, allowing my eyes to flick down to her feet.

  "Oh," she said, blushing and sitting down beside me.

  "You have a great voice," I said, putting my arm around her. "You know the music. You'll do beautifully."

  "I'm just worried about 'Lift Thine Eyes,'" she confessed. "Cause it's a capella, I'm worried that I won't find the right pitch."

  I smiled. "You'll do fine. I know that you know your part, and Jane and Colette know theirs too. When you guys sang it at home, you made my mother cry."

  "Really?" Eden asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  "Really, really," I replied, grinning.

  Mr. Faulkner poked his head into the room. "Alright, guys, it's show time," he announced. "Break a leg!"

  Nervously, we all got up and headed for the door. Matt walked by, wishing Eden and I good luck. I took note of how he lightly touched her back as he did it and grinned.

  We climbed onto the steps between the nave and the altar area from which we were singing, sopranos and altos in the front, basses and tenors in the back. We had a sizable audience, due mostly to the random posters that people had plastered around town advertising the concert. We also kind of hoped that during the concert, people would be drawn by the sound of our gorgeous voices and sort of drift in. Wishful thinking? Nah.

  The people sitting in the darkened cathedral watched us, anticipating that something was about to happen. The orchestra sat in their seats, tensely grasping their instruments. Anxiously, we waited in silence.

  After an uncomfortable minute, the audience began to clap as Mr. Faulkner stepped into the church from a side door, bowed, and took his place on a stool in front of the orchestra. This time, thank God, his tux seemed to be on the right way and his bowtie was black instead of the nasty brown striped one that he had accidentally worn for the last concert. He gave a nod, and the oboe played an A, to which the rest of the musicians tuned.

  When everyone was finally satisfied with the sound of their instruments and the orchestra lapsed once again into silence, Nate Waugh came forward to the front of the choir. He, of course, had scored the juicy bass part of Elijah. Waiting for Mr. Faulkner's signal, he started in pompously on the Introduction:

  "As God the Lord of Israel liveth, before whom I stand:

  There shall not be dew nor rain these years,

  there shall not be dew nor rain,

  but according to my word."

  He milked that last note for all it was worth, finally cutting off and moving back to his place in the bass section. The orchestra started in on the Overture, which, in my opinion, was kind of angry sounding. The beginning also kind of sounded like the theme music from Jaws. It crescendoed into a mighty frenzy, leading right to the choir's entrance.

  "Help, Lord!" we sang for all we were worth. Mr. Faulkner was getting totally into it and motioned for us to sing as loud as possible. "Help, Lord!Help, Lord! Wilt thou quite destroy us?" A very powerful opening, if I do say so myself.

  The rest of that first movement passed without incident, leading up to the second: "Lord, bow thine ear." I heard Eden heave a mighty sigh beside me as she and Colette Taylor, an alto, moved to the front. This was their duet, with the choir only coming in occasionally with a soft "Lord, bow thine ear to our prayer!"

  We began at Mr. Faulkner's signal. Eden and Colette came in with beautiful harmony:

  "Zion spreadeth her hands for aid;

  And there is neither help nor comfort…"

  Eden sounded heavenly. I looked over at her tenor lover to see what his reaction was. He was staring at her as though she was an angel and nearly missed his next cue, jumping in at the last second with an "oh shit" sort of look on his face. "Wow," I thought to myself. "He's got it bad."

  As the last notes of the movement died away, Eden and Colette returned to their places and Adam Evers, playing the tenor role of Obadiah, stepped out for his solo recitative and aria. I smiled. Even though Adam was Kurt's best friend, he'd always been nice to me. In fact, he was nice to everyone. I don't think I even knew anybody who didn't like him. So why in the world would he associate himself with Kurt? Wonders never cease.

  "Ye people, rend your hearts," he sang.

  "Rend your hearts, and not your garments

  for your transgressions the prophet Elijah has sealed the heavens

  through the word of God.

  I therefore say to ye,

  Forsake your idols,

  return to God;

  for he is slow to anger, and merciful, and kind, and gracious,

  and repenteth Him of the evil."

  From there, he continued on into one of the most beautiful arias in the peace: "If with all your hearts."

  "'If with all your hearts ye truly seek me,

  ye shall ever surely find me.'

  Thus saith our God…"

  I smiled at the beautiful words and let the music wash over me. Eden was practically in ecstasy. She adored anything that showed God's loving nature. "It's all about the love, Lotte," she often said to me during her frequent gushing about the topic. "God is love."

  Anyway, the rest of the first act passed fairly well with only a few minor slip-ups here and there. Jane nailed her solo aria and duet with Nate, my quartet went beautifully, and Brigid, the only non-senior with a solo (the part was supposed to be a "child," so Mr. Faulkner had chosen a freshman), did a great job with her recitative. As the end of the brief intermission rolled around, though, I began to get nervous. My solo aria opened up the second act, and I really didn't want to mess it up. I sat backstage, rocking nervously back and forth and trying to collect myself.

  "Don't worry, sweetie," Eden reassured me, patting my back. "You'll be wonderful." It was funny how in the brief span of the first act, Eden had switched to the comforter and I to the comfortee.

  "Just think of the whole audience in their underwear," suggested Jane.

  I shook my head. "That doesn't help. Then I just start laughing." I would, especially if the underwear I was picturing was rather risqué and on a rather old woman. Yes, this had happened before, and no, I'm not a psycho. I just have a rather vivid imagination.

  "Then pretend they're not there," Jane continued.

  "I just
won't think about it."

  "Good girl."

  As we took our places for the second half and I made my way to the front, I took a deep breath to calm myself, then looked to Mr. Faulkner. Seeing that I was ready, he signaled the orchestra to begin. After five measures, I began to sing:

  "Hear ye, Israel!

  Hear what the Lord speaketh:

  'Oh, hads't thou heeded,

  heeded my commandments!…'"

  As the aria went along, I got into it and forgot my nervousness, focusing all of my energy on making the song beautiful. When it got to the upbeat part, I was truly able to sing joyfully.

  "I am He that comforteth,

  be not afraid,

  be not afraid;

  for I am thy God,

  I will strengthen thee!

  I the Lord, will strengthen thee;

  for I, thy God, will strengthen thee…"

  My aria finished, and I couldn't help but allow a huge smile to come over my face. "Yes!" I thought to myself. "I did it!"

  Chapter 5: Southampton Dock

  I woke up the next morning exactly two minutes before the wakeup call was set to go off, giving me enough time to lie there and feel immensely proud of my choir and myself. The standing ovation from the night before was still fresh in my mind, and I smirked sleepily.

  At 8:00 AM exactly, the wakeup call arrived. The phone rang loudly from its spot on Jane's nightstand. With her eyes still shut, Jane reached out and grabbed the receiver.

  "Hello?" she said groggily.

  There was a faint mumbling on the other end, which I assumed was some obnoxious this-is-your-wakeup-call type of recording.

  Jane attempted to slam the receiver back down, knocking the entire phone off of the nightstand in the process. Smooth. Very smooth.

  Of the four of us, Eden easily had the best attitude in the morning. She sat up, stretched, put her fluffy blue slippers on her dainty little feet, then walked to the window and threw open the curtains, letting in a stream of morning light. I squinted in response.

  "Alright, guys," she said. "Up!"

  Brigid moaned and rolled over, placing her pillow on top of her head. She said something (muffled by the pillow) that sounded suspiciously like "fuck you."

  "Come on, freshman!" replied Eden playfully. She yanked the covers off of Brigid, who contracted her body into a fetal position, her head still stuck under the pillow.

  "Eden, why don't you take a shower first and let Brigid snooze a little," I suggested.

  Eden rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said. "But you guys had better be up when I get out!"

  "That should be easy," I thought. Eden took forever in the shower.

  ----------------

  At 9:30 - showered, dressed, "beautified," packed, and ready to go - my friends and I arrived in the hotel lobby. Mr. Faulkner was at the reception desk, scratching his head in confusion and trying to finalize the checkout. Various people stood around the room or lazed on couches and armchairs in their respective "groups," their luggage piled next to them on the floor.

  After a quick scan of the room, Eden located Matt on a couch, looking very awake (stupid morning people) and chatting happily with Elliot, Adam, Bryce, Luke (the one who had danced with Jane at the party), and (ugh) Kurt, who were scattered around him on the couch and a few armchairs. Acting like she hadn't just been searching for a certain guy like a middle school kid with a crush on the high school's star quarterback or something, Eden pretended to be immensely interested in a painting of Big Ben that was hanging on the wall.

  "Hey Lotte," she said nonchalantly. "Let's head over to that couch over there." She nodded in the vague direction of Matt and Company, as I had named their group of friends.

  I smiled knowingly. "Sure," I said.

  Leaving Jane and Brigid to discuss whether German guys or Russian guys were hotter (definitely German guys, but hey, I'm biased, and Russians are pretty sexy too), Eden and I made our way over to the boys. Matt, I noted with a smile, looked up as soon as he caught a glimpse of the gorgeous red-head (and her blonde friend) approaching him. He smiled widely.

  "Hey," he said.

  "Hi," Eden replied, blushing.

  I nodded in recognition, biting my lip and trying not to giggle hysterically at their adorable awkwardness. I could also feel my cheeks starting to burn. For some bizarre reason, watching adorable romantic moments take place (even if I had nothing to do with them) made me blush.

  "Wow, Lotte, you're so red."

  Thank you so much for pointing it out, Luke.

  "She's just blushing because she's in the presence of someone as attractive as I am," said Kurt, smirking and putting his arms behind his head in a way that stretched his shirt over his (well-developed) pectoral muscles.

  Realizing I was staring, I blushed even more and glared. "You wish."

  Kurt winked at me. Stupid prick.

  An awkward silence followed. Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

  Luke, trying to do everyone a favor and end the silence before we all imploded, decided to make a joke. "You know, every time there's an awkward silence, a gay baby is born."

  The awkward silence got even more awkward as Kurt narrowed his hazel eyes dangerously and leaned forward in his armchair. "Really?" he said.

  Even though I could never figure out the exact emotion in Kurt's eyes, I knew that this one was definitely a bad emotion, something akin to anger or resentment.

  "Er…" Luke deadpanned, a deer-in-the-headlights-like expression coming over his features.

  "My younger brother is gay," Kurt growled. "And I really don't appreciate that kind of comment."

  I was sufficiently surprised. I didn't even know that Kurt had a younger brother.

  Luke had now turned an unpleasant shade of puce. "I-I'm sorry, man," he said. "I didn't mean… I was just trying to… oops?"

  Kurt seemed to calm down a bit, and he leaned back. "It's ok," he said. "You were just trying to break the silence. I know." He sighed in resignation.

  I bit my lip in thought. I could understand why Kurt was pissed. It wasn't fun having someone insult or make a joke about your family. I knew from personal experience. Once, when I was in middle school, my father had chaperoned a field trip, and some little bastard in my class had called him a Nazi because of his accent. He had gone to the bathroom and stayed there for twenty minutes, and I had the sneaking suspicion that he was actually crying. My father had some issues regarding World War Two. His psychologist said that it was a "guilt-complex." He didn't really like to talk about it, so I generally left the matter alone. When that little racist bastard insulted him, though, I couldn't leave it alone. The affair ended in a fistfight, from which I acquired a black eye and a bloody lip. I broke the kid's nose, though, so I felt that the sacrifice had been worth it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not usually a violent person at all. Insult someone I love, though, and I'm more or less after your blood.

  "Lotte? Hello?" Bryce's voice snapped me out of my reverie.

  "Yup?" I asked, turning to look at him.

  "You've been standing there staring at the back of Elliot's chair for the last three minutes."

  "We were starting to place bets on whether or not you're narcoleptic," added Adam humorously.

  I chuckled. "No, no, I'm fine. It's just, you know, early."

  Elliot raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Alright then…" he trailed off.

  Everyone was still staring at me curiously. I shifted uncomfortably and was about to make a stupid comment about the weather or something when Mr. Faulkner clapped to get our attention. Thank you, God.

  "Alright, everyone," he said, raising his arms in the air, waving them around, and accidentally dislodging his shirt from his pants. "First off, fantastic concert last night. You really did a beautiful job. Give yourselves a round of applause."

  We all clapped awkwardly.

  "Now," Mr. Faulkner continued. "We'll be taking the busses for about two hours to Southampton, where there's a cruise ship waiting for us.
And no," he added, noting the excited looks on Alicia and Georgiana's faces, "We're not going on a surprise cruise to the Bahamas. We're just taking the ship for a two night ride to Bergen, Norway. From there, we'll take two high-speed trains: one to Oslo and one to Stockholm. We'll get there on Monday."

  I raised my eyebrows. It was Saturday. Getting there on Monday meant two days of traveling. Bah.

  "I know that so much traveling seems a bit tiring," said Mr. Faulkner, as though he had sensed my discomfort. "But most of it will be on the boat, and it's supposed to be really nice. If I'm not mistaken, there's a swimming pool, sauna, hot tub, a small bowling alley, and even a movie theatre, all of which you will be free to use."

  An excited murmur made its way through the crowd. Movies meant make-out dates. Make-out dates meant excited, horny teenagers. That's just the way life works.

  "Anyway, the boat leaves from Southampton at five, and I want to get there ahead of time so you all have enough time to get some lunch and maybe explore a bit. So, let's all get on the busses please."

  At his request, we all began to gather our luggage and head out the door. Handing my bags to the bus driver to go in the storage compartment, I climbed the steps onto the air-conditioned bus (which felt quite nice in the summer heat). This was one of those awesome sort of busses that have TVs every few seats, and I assumed that, since the ride to Southampton was so long, we'd be watching something. Naturally, I got the seat with the best view of one of the TVs that I could find. A minute or two later, Eden plopped down beside me.

  "What, not sitting with lover boy today?" I gave her a nudge.

  "He's sitting with Elliot," she answered, pouting.

  "Well, it's probably good for you to spend some time away from him. Otherwise you'd look like a stalker or something."

  She shot me a look.

  "What?" I asked innocently. "It's true."

  Eden just rolled her eyes and grinned.

  Mr. Faulkner climbed onto the bus after everyone else and took attendance. Finally, convinced that no one had gone AWOL, he sat down, and we pulled away from the hotel, starting on our journey. After a minute or two of driving through the busy London streets, Mr. Faulkner popped up again and started fiddling with the DVD player at the front of the bus. Everyone waited anxiously. The TVs spluttered a bit. Then, thank God, they started working properly, and the opening credits of When Harry Met Sally came on.