High Note

by Jeff Ross

  She did a good job. Great, even. She held the audience captivated for the full two minutes. She stood as straight as a mannequin as well. She hit every note with near perfection. It’s not an easy piece to sing. It takes concentration.

  I wasn’t sure if it was because of how she looked up there, so stiff and proper, but for some reason her voice sounded different to me. Almost robotic. Not that there wasn’t feeling in her singing. It was just very much on the surface.

  When she was done, she gave a brief bow and left the stage.

  “That was very nice,” Amanda said. She motioned at me.

  “Like King Kong taking down the Empire State Building,” Sean said as I walked away. “Like Godzilla destroying Tokyo!”

  “Same thing, Hailey,” Amanda said. “Sing the piece—no need to act yet.”

  I thought about her words as I mounted the stage. No need to act yet. As if it was only a matter of time before I would need to act. Did that mean she thought I’d get the part?

  When the orchestra began playing, it felt as though I’d slipped into a warm bath. The sound filled the space. I glanced around the room. A real live girl is before you, I thought. And she is about to perform.

  When I began to sing, I did so quietly, almost as though I was afraid of disturbing the beauty of the moment. As my voice rose in volume, I felt the warmness I get when everything is flowing. When my voice and the instruments are weaving in and out of one another. “L’ho perduta” is short, one of the briefest pieces in the opera. But there is one crescendo that stands out. I had to do my best through the beginning of the piece to not think about that crescendo. As I’d been practicing “L’ho perduta” at home, I’d slipped on the first notes a couple of times. Even with the rising power of a crescendo, you have to work with the orchestra. You have to rise as it does, instruments and voice swept along by a slow, rolling wave.

  The orchestra grew in sound and volume and dropped right before I did, so that my voice held the highest note a moment longer. It echoed in the space as the next line came up. I could feel the music in my chest, in my lungs, deep down in my stomach, and when the piece ended, I felt as though I’d been singing for hours.

  There was applause.

  Even a couple of cheers.

  And then Denise was at my side. “That was beautiful, Hailey,” she said.

  I thought she shouldn’t be there. Sure, other people had shown their allegiance toward Crissy or me, but it had been subtle. I would have been enraged had Isabel mounted the stage after Crissy sang.

  But I didn’t shrug Denise away as she put her arm around my shoulders and led me from the stage. “Absolutely stunning,” she said.

  * * *

  It took more than an hour for the judges to decide who would be the principal. I don’t know what took so long. I guess no decision is easy in this kind of situation.

  Amanda took to the stage as the noise in the room rose, then fell to silence.

  “We have had a very difficult decision to make,” she said. Cameras flashed. “But we have finally managed to come to an agreement. Our principal for the role of Barbarina in the Paterson Center for the Performing Arts’ production of The Marriage of Figaro is Hailey McEwan.”

  I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to get on the stage and bow? Amanda spotted me beside Sean and beckoned me up. The cameras flashed some more as I joined her. I smiled and gave a small bow.

  Then I spotted Crissy. She was staring right at me. Her face solid as stone. A tear running down her cheek.

  I felt both incredible and awful. Emotions tumbled over one another. The applause carried on, and finally Crissy put her hands together. She clapped three times, then dropped her arms to her sides.

  “Crissy Derrick will be our understudy,” Amanda said. She looked around the crowd until she spotted Crissy. “Come on up, Crissy.”

  Crissy mounted the stage and stood on the other side of Amanda. It felt like we’d finished a boxing match. The referee was raising the winner’s hand while the loser had to stand there drowning in her humiliation.

  I was sad for Crissy. But we’d entered this competition knowing only one of us could be the principal. That someone would have to lose.

  “Thank you, girls. Rehearsals start this afternoon,” Amanda said.

  More camera flashes. Another smattering of applause. And then we were off the stage, heading to our own sides of the room, walking away from one another again. But I could only feel so much sorrow for Crissy, because the decision had been made.

  They wanted me as their Barbarina.

  Ten

  We began blocking the next morning. That’s where the director gets everyone to move to different spots on the stage so they know where to go during the actual production. Barbarina only has a couple of singing parts, but she’s on the stage for other sections as well. The rest of the singers had been rehearsing for a few weeks, so they mostly knew what to do.

  During the blocking, the understudy walks the stage with the lead. That meant that Crissy was by my side the whole day. She would nod whenever a direction was given and then wait for me to move to the spot before stepping there herself.

  It was awkward.

  The first time we were free, we went and sat in the hall. Isabel and Denise were working on a scene together. There had been some disagreement on where exactly they should be standing during this particular piece. Isabel believed she should be at the front of the stage, even though Denise was singing the majority of the part. The director was attempting to figure out a way to make them both happy, which seemed pretty much impossible.

  “This is so cool,” I whispered to Crissy. I had to try.

  “I guess,” she replied. That was all she’d said to me beyond a hi first thing in the morning.

  “Isabel is really good.”

  “She’s the best,” Crissy said.

  “Denise is incredible as well,” I said.

  “She’s fine.”

  I was going to leave it at that, but somehow I couldn’t. “There are going to be other parts that you will get,” I said. “I mean, I know it.”

  Crissy slowly turned toward me.

  “I should have had this part,” she said in a low growl. “I’ve been singing for way longer than you have. I have the better voice. Isabel said so. But now I have to walk around behind you? Be your understudy?” She paused.

  I had nothing to say in response. Her tone was angry and hurtful.

  “I’m stuck having to say that the first role I ever went for I didn’t get. People ask, you know. And with the press here and everything…” She crossed her arms and fell into her seat. “I mean, what do you even care?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I want to be a singer. I am going to be a singer. This is my career. What is it to you? A hobby? Something fun to do? Why’d you even have to start?”

  “Because you asked me to,” I said, stunned.

  “Well, I shouldn’t have,” she said. “I wish I hadn’t.” She glanced at me, then turned away and stared at the stage.

  “Crissy,” I said, “I—”

  “Just forget it, Hailey. Just…I don’t know, do what you always do.”

  “What do I always do?”

  “You decide to do something, like soccer or field hockey or animation, and you’re really good at it right away, because everything is easy for you, for some reason. Then, as soon as it gets hard, you quit.” She glared at me again. “Can it get really hard for you soon? Please? Could you quit now and move on to whatever it is you’re going to do next?”

  I sat there, unable to speak. Barely able to breathe. Was this really what she felt?

  “I want to be a singer,” I said, because I couldn’t think of any other response.

  “Sure you do,” Crissy said, standing. “Until you want to be something else.”

  I watched her walk to the rear of the hall and head outside. I considered going after her. To plead my case. To tell her she was wrong. That singing
wasn’t something I only did for fun. It wasn’t like soccer or animation or whatever. It was going to be my career as well. But I couldn’t put the words together. I couldn’t figure out how to say anything to her without getting angry.

  I rose up out of my seat twice but sat back down both times. Chasing after her to try to convince her she was wrong was the worst thing I could do. It would be an argument, nothing more.

  There was no way I could win.

  * * *

  Crissy was silent the next time we were needed onstage. Then it was lunchtime, and she disappeared again. I didn’t go looking for her.

  Amanda had picked three parts to be looked at during the afternoon rehearsal. The first was a busy scene at the beginning of the opera, in which almost all of the singers are onstage at some point or other. The next was an aria that Isabel sang. And the final piece was “L’ho perduta.”

  Now that the full orchestra was involved, the understudies were left to sit in the hall with the choir.

  Isabel was onstage, about to start her aria. The orchestra had already played through the piece twice, though it didn’t seem to me that they needed to. They sounded amazing. Everything was tight and crisp. Evelyn Linley, the conductor, signaled the orchestra to play again, and Isabel began.

  Isabel made it about three bars before Evelyn crossed the stage, waving her arms. “Not like that,” she said. She stepped close to Isabel and spoke quietly. Isabel nodded. She seemed to be taking the direction well.

  Evelyn started the orchestra again. This time Isabel moved differently, and her voice projected out over the hall. I could see that Evelyn liked what she heard. Although she mostly dealt with the orchestra, she often spoke directly with the singers as well. She was a tall thin woman who was in no way intimidating, yet everyone listened to what she had to say. She had worked with this orchestra for years and had earned a huge amount of respect from all the musicians.

  She knew exactly what she wanted—which left me feeling nervous for the first time. I couldn’t help thinking about what Crissy had said. That I was good at everything initially, then gave up when it got hard. Was that true? I’d never seen myself as that type of person. Sure, I was able to jump into just about anything and be okay at it right away. But I’d never thought of myself as someone who quit when things became more difficult.

  I watched Isabel as she started and stopped five times.

  “Okay, okay,” Evelyn said. Then she turned to the side of the stage. “Hailey, we need you out here now.”

  I was shaking and sweating. It was so weird. I’d never been nervous before.

  I stepped out onto the stage.

  “You will be singing this from the floor, you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “So you will need to project.”

  I went down on my knees, then curled my legs under me. It was uncomfortable, but if I was going to sing loudly enough, it was the only way to keep my torso straight and tall.

  Amanda was suddenly beside me. As the director of the opera, these staging prompts were all her ideas. She placed her hand on my back and straightened me slightly more. “You need to be down like this, but looking to the top of the balcony. Do you understand? Where your eyes go, your voice goes.”

  “I understand,” I said. I’d never tried to sing this loudly before.

  “You will project?” Evelyn said.

  “Yes,” I replied. Amanda moved to the side of the stage while Evelyn returned to her place before the orchestra.

  The music played. I waited, listening, then started to sing.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Evelyn said, waving her arms and bringing everything to a stop. She didn’t cross the stage to where I sat. Instead she yelled to me, “We just agreed you need to project.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Like a mouse!” she said. “You sound like a little mouse.” She wasn’t exactly yelling at me, but it felt close to it. “You are squeaking at us. You need to sing. Loudly, with passion.”

  The orchestra began again. I waited, inhaled as much air as possible, and let loose with the most sound I had ever managed.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Evelyn yelled. She flew across the stage and stood above me. “I didn’t ask you to shout at us. I asked you to sing with passion.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be sorry, Hailey. Be better.” She stepped away and motioned at the orchestra.

  I was shaking as the music started again. Mrs. Sturgeon sometimes got frustrated with us, but she never yelled. She was always encouraging. Then I glanced at the small audience and spotted Crissy there. She was leaning forward in her seat, her arms crossed and resting on the back of the seat in front of her. She was glowing, as if this was the greatest performance she’d ever seen. She was enjoying every second of my discomfort.

  The first notes trickled out. I glanced at Amanda. She rotated her arms, pushing me to continue. And somehow the sound came. I directed the music toward the balcony. My lungs felt as if they were going to burst. I glanced over at Amanda, and the sound dropped. She pointed to the balcony and yelled, “To the rafters!”

  I looked back at the balcony, and my voice soared toward it. I could almost see the notes floating up and out above me. I didn’t look at Amanda for the rest of the piece. At the end, the orchestra kind of fell away, not coming to a tight stop.

  “Fine,” Evelyn said, stepping away from her spot before the orchestra. She glanced at her watch. “The singers can go. I need to work with the orchestra now.”

  When I looked down at the seats, Crissy was gone. I felt for a moment as if I’d beaten her. As if I’d blown her out of the room with my voice.

  Amanda stopped me as I was heading out the door. “Hailey, you’re doing great.”

  “Thank you,” I said. But it didn’t feel like I was doing great. No one had ever demanded so much of me before. In my lessons and choir, I was learning. With this production, I was working. It wasn’t whether I would eventually learn how to sing an aria. I was expected to already have the skills and simply be able to change whenever something new was asked of me.

  “I understand that tomorrow you’ll be fitted for your costume.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  I thought she was going to leave, but instead she stayed there in front of me, so I remained in place too.

  “So much talent,” she said, almost to herself.

  “Sorry?” I said.

  “You have so much talent, Hailey. Remember that. An absolute natural talent.”

  And then she was gone, and I was left wondering how far natural talent would take me.

  Eleven

  “Forecast today,” Sean said during lunch the next day, “hot and muggy. But don’t worry, folks, there’s a cold front creeping in.”

  I was being fitted for my costume and felt awkward with him standing beside me. “I can’t even think about it, Sean,” I said.

  “Crissy’s never going to forgive you for landing this part, is she?”

  “It doesn’t seem like it.”

  Sean yanked on my sleeve. “This is too short.”

  “That’s why I’m being fitted,” I said. The woman who was adjusting my costume came back and tightened the corset. I wondered how I was going to be able to settle onto the floor with it hitched so tightly.

  “This is too short,” Sean said to her. She reached around and yanked at the sleeve. Then she went back to making it impossible for me to breathe.

  “It will blow over. She’s just hurt right now,” Sean said, taking a seat beside me.

  “Isabel’s no better,” I said. “Have you seen how she grabs me? I have bruises on my arms.”

  “She sure can complain,” Sean said. Isabel had thrown a couple of fits during the rehearsals. Once, she stormed off the stage for no apparent reason, shouting about “that girl” as she went. “But the question is, are you enjoying yourself?”

  I didn’t even have to think about that. “Yes,” I replied. “A
lot.” It was an adventure. I didn’t always know what I was supposed to do, but it wasn’t just me who made mistakes. The other performers did too. And I was okay with not being perfect. That’s what rehearsal was for.

  “Then you’re doing it right.”

  The woman helping me with my dress gave my shoulder a squeeze. “This looks great. How does it feel?”

  “Tight,” I said.

  “Then it’s fitting perfectly,” she replied before walking away.

  “That is seriously tight,” Sean said.

  “Is it too tight?”

  Sean blushed. “I’m not sure what that would mean.”

  “Are all boys like you?”

  “No,” Sean said. “Not at all.” He paused. “Most aren’t even close to this polite, kind, generous and handsome.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said.

  We walked back to the concert hall.

  “Do you think this story still has the same moral?” I asked.

  “That Crissy will decide friendship is more important than dressing up and singing?” Sean said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m not so certain that’s the moral anymore. We may have overestimated her interest in friendship.” He looked really, really sad. Sean is more loyal than anyone I have ever known. Crissy had never been very nice to him, but they were friends. I knew her sudden pulling away must hurt him too.

  “She unfriended me on Facebook,” I admitted.

  Sean looked shocked. “Seriously?”

  “I went to send her a message, and she was gone.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s cold. I want to think it’s all her mother’s influence.”

  “She’s broken free of her mother’s influence before.” I leaned against the wall. Then I remembered the costume and bounced off it. “We’re seventeen, Sean. You can’t stay under your parent’s thumb forever.”

  “That depends on how controlling your mother is.”

  I thought that being seventeen was also part of the problem. We were right at the age where our parents’ influence remained a factor, but everyone was pressing us to figure out our futures. At the very least, we were expected to do a little planning. It was like living in an elastic band that everyone wanted to yank on.