Raw Talent

by Jocelyn Shipley

  Everyone looks at Maxine. She’s leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. We’re all waiting to hear what she says.

  I can’t meet her eye. She’s going to explode now for sure. She’s going to tell me to forget all about being a famous pop star.

  Because when things got tough, I freaked.

  I gave up and ran away.

  Maxine paces once around the kitchen. Then she says, “Actually, Sunita, it’s a good thing you did bring those guests in. Paisley is right. She needs to be able to deal with distractions and unexpected disasters onstage.” She moves toward the kitchen doorway. “Paisley, may I speak to you?”

  “I’m really sorry,” I say to her out in the hall. “I tried my best, but I just lost it.”

  “Yes,” says Maxine. “It makes me wonder. Are you serious about chasing your dream?”

  I am not a bit surprised by her cold tone. But there’s something I need to find out. Instead of replying, I ask, “Did you know those people were coming?”

  “No, I had no idea. Why would you think that?”

  “Because you were so cool about it. You acted like they were invited.”

  Maxine sighs. “Have I taught you nothing? A professional must always expect the unexpected. Whatever it is, make it work.” She starts up the stairs, but then turns. “You never answered my question, Paisley.”

  I’ll never forgive myself if I quit now. I stand straight and breathe like I’m about to sing. “My answer is yes,” I say. “Yes, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Then I shall see you at the theater for soundcheck Thursday night. You know what you have to do between now and then. Better get to it.”

  Fourteen

  Despite my declaration, I’m still not sure I can go through with it. Maybe I can pretend to be sick. If I had laryngitis, I’d have to cancel.

  But Maxine would know I was faking. She would be disappointed in me.

  More important, I would be disappointed in me.

  You know what you have to do, Maxine said.

  I agree. But will it be enough?

  To make matters worse, Cadence keeps taunting me at school. Whenever she sees me in the hall, she calls me Pissley McFartland and holds her nose, or Pissley McFatland and makes a piggy face. But then she posts stuff on the Facebook page like Paisley McFarland is going to shine at Farmshine!

  She’s trying to rattle me. And it’s working.

  I can’t stop her. But on Wednesday in math class, I get an idea about how to get over the trauma of the rehearsal disaster. Maybe if I make myself relive it, I can change the ending.

  So after dinner that night I go to my room and visualize singing at Riverside House again. But this time I don’t stop when the unexpected guests arrive. I don’t let them scare me. I don’t let them distract me. I carry on with my performance, and everyone loves it!

  By the time Jasmeer’s dad drives us to the Stonehill Theater for the soundcheck on Thursday night, I’m feeling better about things. Not overconfident, but quietly in control.

  A volunteer greets us at the door and checks our names off a list. “Vanessa wants everyone seated out front in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m going to have a quick look around,” I say to Jasmeer. “Maxine told me to check out everything beforehand so I’ll feel more comfortable onstage. Want to come with me?”

  “Sure,” she says. “I need shots of everything anyway and lots of candid stuff too.”

  We head down a hallway crowded with kids all talking and laughing with excitement. The green room and dressing rooms are crammed too, with performers tuning their instruments and dancers stretching. People are fussing with their hair and makeup or taking selfies.

  It hits me that these performers all have training and experience. Some have a little, some a lot. But everyone in the show has been onstage before except me. All I’ve got is raw talent.

  And stage fright.

  At least the Sweetland Singers aren’t here. They’re having their regular rehearsal tonight and will do their soundcheck tomorrow, right before the show. Still, I want to get away from the other performers. So after Jasmeer has taken a few photos, I say, “I want to go check out the stage.”

  We head for the wings, where we watch the sound crew setting up their equipment. Thank goodness Maxine warned me it would be chaotic.

  “I’m going out there,” I say. Jasmeer follows, snapping photos of everything.

  I gaze at the three sets of red curtains, at the stage lights, out at the sound booth and the four hundred theater seats. I realize something a bit weird. Even though I felt intimidated around the other performers backstage, I don’t feel that way here. Standing at center stage, it feels like there’s a special space around me. A space just waiting to be filled with my voice.

  “You okay?” Jasmeer asks. “Not too overwhelmed?”

  I grab a microphone off a stand to get the feel of it. “Actually, this is fine! I love it!”

  “Hey, you can test that later,” a stage hand snaps at me. “Right now we need you out of the way.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Doesn’t matter. I’ve seen enough to know I want to be singing for an audience. I’m ready to try.

  “Let’s go,” I tell Jasmeer. We take the stage steps down into the auditorium, where the other performers and volunteers are gathering. Vanessa is beginning her announcements as we slip into seats.

  “Welcome, everybody,” Vanessa says. “We have a lot to do tonight, so I’d appreciate your attention and patience.” She waits while the room goes quiet. “Okay! We’re here to practice getting you on and offstage as quickly and efficiently as possible, and to set the lights and monitors. We don’t have a lot of time, so each of you will do just the beginning and end of your acts.”

  There’s a buzz as everyone discusses that. We all knew that’s what would happen, but apparently some performers need to talk about it anyway.

  “Quiet, please!” Vanessa calls. “Once you’re done onstage, you’re free to go. You’re also welcome to stay and watch, but if you do, please be quiet and respectful.” She waits again while the chattering stops. “And one more thing, people. I am pleased to announce that Farmshine is officially sold out!”

  The cheering is so loud that Vanessa has to yell into her microphone. “So if anybody has a ticket they can’t use, please let us know! There’s a long waiting list too. Okay, first-half performers, backstage now! Let’s do this!”

  To make sure I stay hydrated, I sip from my water bottle as the different first-half acts go through their checks. There’s an Elvis tribute artist, a ukulele band, the Stonehill High Jazz Band and some amazing dancers.

  And through it all I’m super aware of Maxine up on the stage, doing her intros like the pro she is. She makes funny jokes in her famous actor’s voice and puts everyone at ease. Such a pro.

  I’m feeling a bit shy about talking to her after the other night. I hope she’s not still mad at me.

  “Okay, that’s a wrap for the first half,” Vanessa finally announces. “Let’s take a quick break, everybody. There are drinks and snacks in the green room. Second-half people, let’s have you backstage in ten.”

  Should I go looking for Maxine?

  “Let’s hit the green room,” Jasmeer says. “I want to snap a few photos.”

  Maxine is there, surrounded by a swarm of kids who want to meet Silver Spinner and get her autograph. I don’t join them. I avoid the food and watch Jasmeer taking her pictures. Then Vanessa is calling everyone to their places.

  I hurry to the wings.

  “So.” Maxine’s voice behind me makes me jump. “Have you checked out the venue?”

  I exhale and take a deep breath. “Hi, Maxine. Yes, I made sure to have a good look around.”

  “Great. And are you feeling up for this?”

  “Yes!”

  “That is good to hear.” Maxine pushes her sleeves back and pulls her reading glasses from where she’s tucked them into the V neck of her sweat
er. She twirls them by the arm and says, “Sorry for being a bit harsh on Saturday.”

  “No problem. It worked.”

  Vanessa joins us and interrupts. “You guys all set?”

  “Um, yeah,” I say. “The Sweetland Singers will be on first, and then me, right?”

  “They’ll be up there.” Vanessa points to risers arranged at the back of the stage. “When they’re done, the back curtain will close in front of them, but behind the piano. Your mic is in front of that, center stage. We’re already behind schedule, so we’ll skip the intros, Maxine, since you know what you’re doing. Okay, let’s run it.”

  Maxine heads to the piano, and I go to the mic. She plays the intro, and I come in strong, just like we’ve practiced.

  Except that I sound like a foghorn.

  Maxine stops playing. “Hello?” she calls to the sound crew. “Way too much bass!”

  I cringe. They were probably expecting me to be a soprano. We try it a few more times, until they get the settings right. When we finally skip to my last line, it sounds great.

  “Awesome!” Vanessa says afterward. “Hey, Paisley, you can really sing! Who knew?”

  Maxine says, “I knew.”

  Fifteen

  At school on Friday, everyone is hyped about the show. Including me. It’s a struggle to pay attention in class. I’m dazed with excitement and dread. Thrilled with what Maxine said about my singing last night at soundcheck.

  Despite all the doubts that try to creep in, I keep telling myself I’m going to succeed. I was fine last night and I will be tonight. I’m going to wow the world. And maybe then my mom will actually be proud of me.

  After school I dye the colored streaks in my hair darker. I apply extra deodorant and put on the outfit I’ve had ready for days: short denim skirt, acid-green moto jacket, multicolored infinity scarf, black leggings and lace-up black boots.

  I do vocal warm-ups as I put on my stage makeup. I’m doing my lashes when our land line rings. Nice try, Cadence. No way I’m falling for that again.

  But Mom’s home early and picks up. “For you,” she says, bringing the phone to my room.

  “I’ll call them back,” I say. “I’m busy getting ready.”

  Mom sets the phone on my dresser. “She says it’s urgent. About tonight.”

  I wait until Mom’s out of earshot, then pick up the phone and hiss, “What do you want, Cadence?”

  “Just to wish you good luck!”

  “Right.”

  “No, really. I’m sure you’re sick with nerves, and I hope your stage fright won’t ruin the show.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Actually, yes. Whatever you’re wearing is seriously uncool!”

  “And good luck to you too. Bye.” I hang up and look at myself in the mirror. Maybe I should wear something else. Something funkier? Dressier? I yank clothes from my closet and drawers, but nothing feels right.

  Why didn’t I go shopping last week? I fling skirts and tights and jeans and tops onto my bed. Panic rises in my chest. My throat tightens.

  Hang on a second, I tell myself. Do not let Cadence ruin things. Breathe. Just breathe and get a grip.

  I always planned to wear this outfit onstage. Maybe it’s not supercool, but it’s okay. And Maxine said to wear something comfortable. Something I feel good in. So that’s what I’m going to do. I ignore the heap of discarded clothes on my bed and head downstairs.

  When I enter the kitchen, Mom says, “Oh, my goodness! I thought you were getting changed.”

  “I did.”

  “You’re not going onstage in that?”

  I don’t bother to answer.

  “Sorry, I mean, maybe I could lend you something?”

  Way to help with my performance anxiety, Mom.

  When Dad sees me, he says, “Hey, you look great!”

  Mom shakes her head and asks if I want something to eat, but my stomach heaves at the thought of food. “I’ll eat at the after-party,” I say. “Let’s just get going. I want to have lots of time for more warm-ups.”

  In the car, Dad wishes me luck. Mom says, “I hope Maxine Gaston helped with your nerves.”

  What? She hasn’t checked since I told her, and she wants to know now? Right before the show? “I’m fine Mom, thanks for asking.”

  I wish I’d accepted the ride Jasmeer offered.

  At the backstage entrance, the atmosphere is even more charged than it was last night. It’s too much for me, so I make my way upstairs to the Limestone Room, where the second-half performers are supposed to wait.

  But as I’m coming down the hall, I spot the Sweetland Singers in there warming up. I turn and head straight back downstairs again. No way do I need to hear them. No way do I need to see Cadence.

  My phone buzzes with a text from Maxine. Break a leg! Remember: SS opening 4 u!!!

  I text back. Thanks!!!

  I turn my phone off and hide in a washroom stall, deep breathing until the show starts. Then I creep out into the lobby, where volunteers are setting up for the Farmer’s Market at intermission. I try to help arrange Jasmeer’s cards and prints and her dad’s cookies, but every move I make is wrong. I’m clumsy and in the way.

  I sit on a bench and pick up a program. Jasmeer did a great job on the layout and design, using one of her sunflower photos on the cover. I flip it open, and there’s my name, right after the Sweetland Singers.

  There’s no escaping them! Beads of sweat form on my forehead. I fan myself with the program and watch the show on a monitor.

  What a difference from soundcheck. Now the stage is decorated with hay bales and paper sunflowers. Maxine looks elegant in a black silk evening suit, and the performers’ costumes are stunning. Jasmeer’s down in front, snapping photos like a pro.

  I can’t concentrate on the acts. My stomach feels full of squid tentacles. Thank heavens I didn’t eat dinner. I pace the lobby on shaky legs, humming to myself to keep my voice warmed up.

  Focus, focus, focus.

  I run through some lines from my song. Somewhere the music shines bright, somewhere it sounds like the sun.

  Intermission at last. I run out of the lobby before the audience crowds in. I can’t risk seeing Cadence or my parents. I need a quiet space where I can pull myself together.

  The backstage washroom is full, so I find a deserted corner at the end of the hall. I close my eyes and breathe. I remind myself that I’m well prepared for this performance. I’ve followed all of Maxine’s advice: I’m wearing something comfortable. I know my notes and lyrics cold. I’m familiar with the mic and the stage.

  I go through my positive visualization one more time. I picture everything going well. I’m expecting the best, but I can handle anything. I am going to rock!

  And then it’s time. Vanessa’s voice comes over the intercom. “Five minutes!”

  It’s showtime.

  Sixteen

  I rush to the wings, only to ram right into a line of thirty or so kids wearing black pants and white shirts. The Sweetland Singers. Again! I stop short and stay well behind them, ignoring Cadence. I don’t take my place in the wings until they’ve paraded onto the risers.

  I can see Ms. Winton in the dim light, making sure everyone stands exactly where she wants them. I hear Maxine introduce them. And then the curtain opens and the lights go up to enthusiastic applause.

  Ms. Winton sweeps onstage and takes a quick bow, then turns and leads the choir in their first number.

  It’s a ballad about a river, and it starts with a soprano solo. The solo Cadence bragged about. Her voice rings bright and clear. When the choir joins in, the sound is rich and effortless, almost like flowing water. The effect is spellbinding, and the audience loves it.

  “Thank you very much,” Ms. Winton says. “That was ‘Song of the River,’ and as many of you know, it’s our signature song, since we’re named for Stonehill’s Sweetland River.” She pauses dramatically, looking elegant in her long black dress, her sleek silver hair swept up into a
French twist. “And I must say that we’re absolutely delighted to be here tonight to share our music with you and help raise funds to save Sunflower Farm.”

  Just hearing Ms. Winton’s plumy voice gives me a flashback to that horrible audition. Could you try it again, an octave higher? And then, I’m sorry dear…but I can’t offer you a place…

  Breathe, breathe, breathe, I tell myself. Stay in control.

  I stare at the stage backdrop the volunteers painted, a field of sunflowers against a blue sky. So pretty. I study the singers. I find it odd that they’re standing with their hands behind their backs, but they do look very confident and professional.

  Well, I won’t be intimidated. As Maxine put it, the Sweetland Singers are opening for me.

  “Our next number we learned especially for tonight,” Ms. Winton says. “It’s a country song from the 1970s called ‘Sunflower,’ and it’s such fun. We hope you’ll enjoy it as much as we do. Our soloist, as in our river song, is the lovely Cadence Wang.”

  “Sunflower” is an upbeat, feel-good song. Halfway through it, the singers swing their hands up in front of them, showing off the paper sunflowers they’ve been hiding. They move side to side in unison, making their sunflowers wave and sway. It looks like they’re all part of the sunflower-field background.

  The audience cheers like crazy and claps along.

  When the song is over, Ms. Winton and the Sweetland Singers take a bow. The curtain closes, and they march off the risers. The audience is calling, “More! More!”

  The breath has gone out of me. The Sweetland Singers were fantastic! No wonder they’ve won so many awards.

  Maxine was wrong. They didn’t open for me. They stole the show!

  I swallow hard, trying not to cry. What was I thinking, dyeing my hair and wearing this stupid outfit? I should have worn something simple and black, like Maxine and Ms. Winton. Like Mom wanted to lend me.

  Why did I ever sign up to sing?

  I can’t do this. I have to get out of here.

  But Maxine is already back at the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she says. “How about those Sweetland Singers? Their name says it all, doesn’t it?” She waits through renewed applause. “A huge thank-you to them for making the time to be here.” She waits again for quiet. “And now it is my very great pleasure to introduce our next performer. Paisley McFarland, a ninth-grade student here at Stonehill High, is making her debut tonight. And while this might be her first public performance, I know for sure it won’t be her last! You’re in for a real treat!”