Take a Bow
Page 26
All I know is that I have a date planned with Tyler Stewart.
Leave it to Jack to figure out something is going on.
“What aren’t you telling me, Red? You’ve got this little mischievous smile on your face.”
“I do not.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in to stare into my eyes.
“Yes, you do. I’ll admit, it suits you well. You should be a troublemaker more often.”
The four of us sit down in composition class. The last thing I need is those three giving me grief for my date on Wednesday with Tyler.
Thankfully, Mr. North starts class, which is the only thing that can quiet Jack down (somewhat). But he keeps tugging on my hair as Mr. North fills us in on the next CPA concert.
“Okay, guys, the alumni concert is coming up. I don’t need to remind you that some of our most prestigious alumni, and those with the deepest pockets, come each year to be wowed by the students. Now that you’re seniors, you get the privilege of putting on the show. The theme this year is Icons. Each performance will need to feature an icon or an iconic piece from one of the decades since CPA was founded. A representative from each group needs to come up and pick a decade out of the hat.”
Jack gets up for us and takes a piece of paper out of the hat. He unfolds it and nods his head with a big smile on his face. He shows Mr. North the paper and holds it out to us as he comes back to his seat. “The eighties.”
The other four groups pick their decades, and Mr. North reminds us that this is the last all-school performance before the showcase audition invitations are handed out.
“Okay,” Ethan starts us off. “We’ve got to make a statement here. I’m thinking that whatever we choose, it should be something loud, something big, very rock-heavy. Last year I wanted to fall asleep from all the power ballads. Just because some of the alumni are elderly, it doesn’t mean that we can’t spice things up.”
We all agree. Plus, being loud always helps me with any nerves I have onstage. Churning out big power chords fast has a calming effect on me. I’m probably the only person who finds performing punk music therapeutic.
“Why don’t we put a punk spin on whatever song we choose?” I say.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack agrees.
We throw out names of the eighties’ musical icons: Madonna, Prince, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, and so on. Until we settle on the biggest of them all.
Michael Jackson.
Ben hits his hand against the table. “I’ve got it. ‘Beat It.’ It’s got the sick guitar lick and solo. Ethan, I know you can take it to the next level. Plus, Jack can hash out an intense beat on the drum, and Emme and I will keep up just fine.”
It’s unanimous. I pull out The Calendar and start to figure out practice times.
“Man, I’m excited about this.” Jack is already tapping out a beat with his fingers. “I want to start working on it ASAP. What’s everybody’s week like? If we get even a basic idea down, maybe we can do a rough version at our gig on Friday night?”
“I’m free,” Ben offers.
“Me, too,” Ethan says with his eyes closed. I know he’s figuring out his part in his head.
“Yeah. Me, too, except for Wednesday.”
All three of them look at me. “What’s Wednesday?” Jack’s got one eyebrow raised.
“I have plans.”
Jack scoffs. “Plans? With who?”
“Am I not allowed to have plans that don’t involve you guys?”
“No,” they say in unison.
“Whatever.”
Jack, never one to let things go, prods on. “Sophie? Carter?”
“No, I … Okay, I’ll tell you, but please don’t make a big deal about it.”
Jack gasps. “Emme Connelly, do you have a date?”
“Oh, just forget it.”
“We certainly will not forget it.”
“Fine, I’m going to dinner with Tyler. Happy?”
Jack shakes his head. “Nicely done, Red.”
I pull out The Calendar to write up our practice schedule until the concert in three weeks. Ben spends the rest of the class grilling me on my date, with Jack making disparaging comments. And Ethan keeps his eyes closed for the rest of the time.
At least one of them respects what little privacy I have.
Over the past three years, I’ve had to audition seven times to be a student at CPA, I’ve performed countless times as part of an assignment or with the band, and now I’m singing on an album that will serve as my senior thesis … not to mention part of my application to the top music school in the country.
However, I don’t think anything has made me as nervous as walking into the bistro where I’m meeting Tyler.
He stands up from the table where he’s waiting for me. His wavy brown hair is just slightly shorter than Ethan’s and he’s sporting just the right amount of stubble. He’s got his normal outfit of dark jeans with a button-down shirt — this time it’s white with thin black stripes.
He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
I smile at him as I put my shaking hands in my lap. Sophie was busy, so Ben came over and helped me pick out my outfit: black leggings with a long, gray sweater, and black riding boots. He said I looked classic, yet contemporary.
We make small talk about class and music assignments. Tyler is applying to most of the same schools as Ethan and I.
Leave it to Jack to figure out something is going on.
“What aren’t you telling me, Red? You’ve got this little mischievous smile on your face.”
“I do not.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in to stare into my eyes.
“Yes, you do. I’ll admit, it suits you well. You should be a troublemaker more often.”
The four of us sit down in composition class. The last thing I need is those three giving me grief for my date on Wednesday with Tyler.
Thankfully, Mr. North starts class, which is the only thing that can quiet Jack down (somewhat). But he keeps tugging on my hair as Mr. North fills us in on the next CPA concert.
“Okay, guys, the alumni concert is coming up. I don’t need to remind you that some of our most prestigious alumni, and those with the deepest pockets, come each year to be wowed by the students. Now that you’re seniors, you get the privilege of putting on the show. The theme this year is Icons. Each performance will need to feature an icon or an iconic piece from one of the decades since CPA was founded. A representative from each group needs to come up and pick a decade out of the hat.”
Jack gets up for us and takes a piece of paper out of the hat. He unfolds it and nods his head with a big smile on his face. He shows Mr. North the paper and holds it out to us as he comes back to his seat. “The eighties.”
The other four groups pick their decades, and Mr. North reminds us that this is the last all-school performance before the showcase audition invitations are handed out.
“Okay,” Ethan starts us off. “We’ve got to make a statement here. I’m thinking that whatever we choose, it should be something loud, something big, very rock-heavy. Last year I wanted to fall asleep from all the power ballads. Just because some of the alumni are elderly, it doesn’t mean that we can’t spice things up.”
We all agree. Plus, being loud always helps me with any nerves I have onstage. Churning out big power chords fast has a calming effect on me. I’m probably the only person who finds performing punk music therapeutic.
“Why don’t we put a punk spin on whatever song we choose?” I say.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack agrees.
We throw out names of the eighties’ musical icons: Madonna, Prince, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, and so on. Until we settle on the biggest of them all.
Michael Jackson.
Ben hits his hand against the table. “I’ve got it. ‘Beat It.’ It’s got the sick guitar lick and solo. Ethan, I know you can take it to the next level. Plus, Jack can hash out an intense beat on the drum, and Emme and I will keep up just fine.”
It’s unanimous. I pull out The Calendar and start to figure out practice times.
“Man, I’m excited about this.” Jack is already tapping out a beat with his fingers. “I want to start working on it ASAP. What’s everybody’s week like? If we get even a basic idea down, maybe we can do a rough version at our gig on Friday night?”
“I’m free,” Ben offers.
“Me, too,” Ethan says with his eyes closed. I know he’s figuring out his part in his head.
“Yeah. Me, too, except for Wednesday.”
All three of them look at me. “What’s Wednesday?” Jack’s got one eyebrow raised.
“I have plans.”
Jack scoffs. “Plans? With who?”
“Am I not allowed to have plans that don’t involve you guys?”
“No,” they say in unison.
“Whatever.”
Jack, never one to let things go, prods on. “Sophie? Carter?”
“No, I … Okay, I’ll tell you, but please don’t make a big deal about it.”
Jack gasps. “Emme Connelly, do you have a date?”
“Oh, just forget it.”
“We certainly will not forget it.”
“Fine, I’m going to dinner with Tyler. Happy?”
Jack shakes his head. “Nicely done, Red.”
I pull out The Calendar to write up our practice schedule until the concert in three weeks. Ben spends the rest of the class grilling me on my date, with Jack making disparaging comments. And Ethan keeps his eyes closed for the rest of the time.
At least one of them respects what little privacy I have.
Over the past three years, I’ve had to audition seven times to be a student at CPA, I’ve performed countless times as part of an assignment or with the band, and now I’m singing on an album that will serve as my senior thesis … not to mention part of my application to the top music school in the country.
However, I don’t think anything has made me as nervous as walking into the bistro where I’m meeting Tyler.
He stands up from the table where he’s waiting for me. His wavy brown hair is just slightly shorter than Ethan’s and he’s sporting just the right amount of stubble. He’s got his normal outfit of dark jeans with a button-down shirt — this time it’s white with thin black stripes.
He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
I smile at him as I put my shaking hands in my lap. Sophie was busy, so Ben came over and helped me pick out my outfit: black leggings with a long, gray sweater, and black riding boots. He said I looked classic, yet contemporary.
We make small talk about class and music assignments. Tyler is applying to most of the same schools as Ethan and I.
