I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I walk through the backstage door, into the hall and I can hear my shoes echo through the room. I am just about to turn and sprint out the door, when I hear Mr. Johnson call out to me, as I appear from behind the drapes, "Chrissie - I didn't know you can sing."
The girl sitting next to Vincent laughs loudly, obviously not concerned with my feelings.
I have learned recently her name is Sabrina, she and Vincent have been a couple since the V-Ball. Rumour has it this is his longest relationship ever. Her father is the band's manager, which makes her think she has now attained transferable fame through Vincent. Not many people at school like her and from the few times, I have seen her, I can understand why.
The remark by Mr. Johnson also stings me a bit, they must have heard at least a dozen girls by now who obviously could not hold a note, and therefore assume I would also be one of them. I feel the embarrassment rise up from my toes, a warm nauseating feeling.
I cannot decide if I am actually going to be sick, but then Vincent smiles up at me, and for some unknown reason, it calms me.
Mr. Johnson says, "Good, Chrissie, what will you be singing?"
I have my guitar slung over my shoulder, and I am not going to do a cover version. Sometimes people have too much expectation to hit that note just right and not paying attention to the actual singing. So I say, suddenly feeling silly for my stupid decision, "A song I wrote myself."
" Very good, I think I have had enough of listening to the one song, in different versions, all morning." Mr. Johnson smiles at me encouragingly.
Vincent is just looking up at me, not saying anything. I notice Sabrina, moving closer to him, hooking her arm into his on the armrest.
He turns to her a little and then he smiles.
Mr. Johnson interrupts my thoughts, "Will you be singing today, Chrissie?"
I guffaw embarrassed, "Sorry."
Singing my song faultlessly, lost in my own world, Mr. Johnson's voice breaks through my deep reflection.
I stop halfway through a note and look at Mr. Johnson dazed, while he says, "Chrissie, that was great, but as you know we still have to listen to a few more girls. We will let you know tomorrow."
Returning his gaze, I smile and turn around to walk away, but then I hesitate and turn back quickly, saying awkwardly, "Thank you for the opportunity."