“Thank heavens!” Stevie breathed. She pedaled furiously the rest of the way down the street, then turned into Ms. Bennefield’s driveway. She squeezed on the brakes and turned sideways to stop, throwing a fine spray of gravel against Ms. Bennefield’s garage.
“Goodness, Stevie, don’t have a wreck!” Ms. Bennefield cried. “A voice lesson isn’t worth breaking your neck over.”
“I know,” said Stevie, gasping for breath. “But I’ve been late for everything else today, and I wanted to get to my last lesson on time.”
Ms. Bennefield laughed. She had short auburn hair, pretty green eyes, and a friendly smile. “Well, I just finished with my other student, so I would say you’ve timed it perfectly. Come on in!”
Stevie parked her bike and followed her teacher inside. Stevie had never seen a house quite like Ms. Bennefield’s, but she loved it. There was a huge grand piano in the living room with a full-length mirror beside it. The walls were filled with pictures of Ms. Bennefield in all the musicals she’d been in, and there were several shots of her with movie stars. On the table across the room was a glittery headdress made out of fake bananas and coconuts that she’d worn in some Broadway play, and just behind the piano, on a tall perch, sat Tootie, Ms. Bennefield’s gray cockatiel.
“Hi, Tootie,” Stevie said, waving at the bird as she took off her coat and backpack.
“Hey, good-lookin’,” croaked Tootie. “Merry Christmas!”
“Now, Tootie, you behave yourself,” Ms. Bennefield scolded the bird, who just flapped his wings and let out an ear-piercing wolf whistle. She laughed and shook her head. “I almost had to cover him up during my last lesson. He seemed to think he could sing ‘Ave Maria’ better than my student could.” Ms. Bennefield sat down at the piano, put on a pair of reading glasses, and studied her notes. “Okay, Stevie,” she said. “Monday’s your big audition, isn’t it?”
Stevie nodded. “I’m so excited. I just know I’m going to get the part!”
“Have you been practicing all week?” asked Ms. Bennefield.
“Oh, yes.” Stevie beamed. “This last month I’ve practiced my singing more than I’ve practiced my horseback riding.”
“Well, let’s do a few warm-ups and hear how you sound.” Ms. Bennefield played five notes. “Now, sing along with the piano, and remember to breathe the way I showed you!”
Stevie stood in front of the mirror and expanded her stomach muscles. At her first lesson Ms. Bennefield had explained that singing was a lot like riding a horse—you used the same muscles to sit on a horse that you did to push air through your vocal cords. Stevie had practiced hard every day on her breathing, but she still suspected that her stomach muscles were better at holding her up on Belle than they were at helping her sing a song.
“Okay, Stevie. Let me hear your E. One, two, three …”
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” Stevie took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and sang. Tootie squawked once and cocked his head as if Stevie had produced a sound he’d never heard before.
“Good.” Ms. Bennefield played on. “Tootie, be quiet. Stevie, try A.”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” sang Stevie.
“Wonderful.” Ms. Bennefield gave her a big smile. “Try to keep your jaw muscles loose. Now try I.”
“Iiiiiiiiiiiiii,” sang Stevie. Then she started to giggle. “Sorry,” she said when she saw Ms. Bennefield’s puzzled expression. “That one always reminds me of Tarzan.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Ms. Bennefield chuckled. “It sounds like you’ve been getting in some good practicing, though. Did you bring your music today?”
“Yes, it’s right here.” Stevie pulled three pieces of sheet music from her backpack and handed them to Ms. Bennefield.
“Have you decided which song you want to sing at your audition?”
“ ‘What Child Is This?’, I think.” Stevie liked all the songs Ms. Bennefield had assigned her, but she thought she sounded the best on “What Child Is This?” since it didn’t go up quite so high as some of the others.
“Good choice,” said Ms. Bennefield, studying the music. “It’s a beautiful carol. Would you like to try it now?”
Stevie nodded. “I think I’m ready.”
Ms. Bennefield arranged the music on her piano. “Okay. Now stand in front of the mirror and watch yourself as you sing. Concentrate on making a pleasant picture as well as a pleasant sound.” She played an introductory chord as Stevie got into position.
“Remember what we’ve worked on. Stand up straight. Shoulders back, eyes alert and looking at your audience. Remember to breathe evenly, with your diaphragm. Keep your mouth and jaw relaxed, and try not to make faces. Remember, you’re singing a song, not having a tooth drilled.”
She sounds just like Max, Stevie thought as she tried to arrange herself in front of the mirror. She could just hear Max in the indoor ring saying, “Heels down, shoulders back, eyes soft, don’t arch your back and remember to breathe!”
“Ready?” Ms. Bennefield played her beginning note on the piano.
Stevie nodded. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but instead of a perfect, pear-shaped note, out came a thunderous belch! Ms. Bennefield stopped playing in midnote, and Tootie squawked on his perch with alarm.
“Oh, Ms. Bennefield, I’m so sorry,” Stevie cried, her face growing hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t know I was going to do that. It must be the ice cream I just ate at TD’s!”
Ms. Bennefield raised one eyebrow at Stevie, then began to laugh. “It’s okay, Stevie. I was just expecting a B flat instead of a burp.” She hit Stevie’s note again. “Shall we take it from the top?”
Stevie nodded and resettled herself in front of the mirror. Ms. Bennefield began playing again. This time Stevie opened her mouth and actual notes came out. For a moment she felt as awkward as she usually did when she sang; then she remembered all the things Ms. Bennefield had told her to do. Relax, smile, let the music bubble up from within you. Suddenly the noise she was making actually began to sound pretty. She noticed that Ms. Bennefield was smiling as she played, and even Tootie seemed to listen, looking at her with his beady little eyes. Stevie sang all three verses of the song, and Ms. Bennefield finished with a flourish on the piano.
“Excellent, Stevie!” she cried. “You really have been working hard.”
“Thanks.” Stevie blushed with pleasure.
“There are just a few little areas where we need to do some work.” Ms. Bennefield made some more notes on her music. “Let’s take it from bar sixteen. You’re going a little flat on the very last phrase.”
Stevie took a deep breath and sang bar sixteen again. Thirty minutes later she was still standing in front of the mirror, still singing bar sixteen.
“Gosh,” Stevie said when they had finished the twentieth rendition. “Learning to sing is just as hard as learning to ride.”
“It really is, Stevie,” Ms. Bennefield said. “Most people think you just open your mouth and this wonderful sound comes out, but singers have to practice constantly. It’s very hard work.” She smiled. “Would you like a glass of orange juice?”
“Is that okay to drink when you sing?” Stevie asked.
“Yes,” said Ms. Bennefield. “Ice cream coats your vocal cords and makes your voice sound funny, so it’s much better to drink water or orange juice. Come on in the kitchen and I’ll pour you a glass.”
Stevie followed Ms. Bennefield into her kitchen, which was almost as interesting as her living room. It was painted dark brown and more photographs lined the walls, but this time they were mixed in with Playbills from Broadway plays. A funny kind of Asian mask hung above the doorway, and a big papier-mâché Christmas tree stood on top of the refrigerator.
“Stevie, I know you’ve always wanted to be a good horsewoman, but when did you decide to become a good singer?” Ms. Bennefield asked as she poured a tall glass of orange juice.
“Well, I’ve always liked to sing, but I guess I really got interested in sounding good when Mr
. Vance took over our drama program at school. He’s a super-neat teacher, and when he announced the auditions for this Christmas play, I really wanted to try out.”
“Oh?” Ms. Bennefield handed Stevie her juice.
“Yes. There’s this other girl who’s trying out for the part, too. Only she’s this big snobby jerk who thinks just because she’s rich she can do everything.”
Ms. Bennefield frowned. “Does she sing, too?”
Stevie took a swallow of orange juice and nodded. “Only she sounds like a sick cat when she goes up high.”
“Well.” Ms. Bennefield laughed. “You certainly don’t sound like that.” She gave Stevie a warm smile. “I’m really proud of the way you’ve worked, Stevie. Not everybody is blessed with a beautiful voice, but everybody can improve their singing, and you’ve certainly done that.”
“Thanks,” Stevie said as she finished her juice.
“Shall we go through your song one more time?” asked Ms. Bennefield.
“Sure,” said Stevie.
They returned to the living room, where Tootie was waiting on his perch. Ms. Bennefield took her seat at the piano while Stevie stood in front of the mirror.
“Okay.” Ms. Bennefield played an arpeggio. “Here’s your intro.”
Stevie took a deep breath, listened for her cue, and began to sing. All of a sudden her voice came effortlessly out of her mouth. She hit every note perfectly, she stayed in time with the music, and at the very end, where she’d kept going flat, she stayed right on the pitch. As the song ended, her voice and Ms. Bennefield’s piano seemed to blend together perfectly.
“Baaaarrrrkkkk!” Tootie’s squawk broke the silence. “Bravo!” he screeched. “Encore! Merry Christmas!”
“Oh, Tootie,” Ms. Bennefield cried. “You’re absolutely right! That was wonderful!” She got up from the piano and gave Stevie a big hug. “I am so proud of you!”
Stevie hugged her back. “I did sound pretty good, didn’t I?”
“You sounded the best you ever have,” Ms. Bennefield said. “If you sing like that Monday, I’m sure you’ll get the part!”
“Wow, Ms. Bennefield, thanks.”
It was time to go. Stevie gathered up her music and stuffed it into her backpack. “Thanks for everything. I wouldn’t be half this good if it wasn’t for you.”
“You did it yourself, Stevie,” Ms. Bennefield said, helping Stevie on with her coat. “You were determined to do it, and you practiced hard and concentrated.”
“Do you really think I’ll do okay on Monday?” Stevie asked as she opened Ms. Bennefield’s front door.
“I think you’ll do fine. Just breathe with your diaphragm, and if you get nervous before the audition, remember to do your lip rolls.”
“Is that where you blow bubbles underwater, only there’s no water?” Stevie stepped out into the frosty air.
“Right,” said Ms. Bennefield. “That will help keep your mouth and jaw relaxed.” She watched as Stevie shouldered her backpack and got on her bicycle. “Bye, Stevie,” she called. “Good luck on Monday. Let me know what happens.”
“I will, Ms. Bennefield,” Stevie called as she pedaled off. “Thanks for all your help.”
“HI, CAROLE!” LISA called as her friend got off the bus. Lisa had phoned Carole earlier that day and they had agreed to meet at the bus stop and walk to Stevie’s house together. It was Sunday afternoon, and both girls were eager to hear Stevie’s new, improved singing voice.
“Hi, Lisa.” Carole pulled her red knitted cap lower over her ears. “Are you ready for the big performance?”
“I can hardly wait!” Lisa replied. “I just hope Stevie really sounds as good as she thinks she does.”
“Me too,” agreed Carole with a slight wince. “Otherwise it could be a real disaster.” Carole and Lisa had heard Stevie sing many times. Though she always sang with great gusto, her crooning had definitely been off-key.
“Well, maybe all these voice lessons have turned her into a real virtuoso,” said Lisa hopefully.
“I think it would take more than voice lessons to turn Stevie into a virtuoso,” Carole said as the girls walked toward Stevie’s house. “I think it would take more like a miracle.”
They walked down the street, looking at all the Christmas decorations people had put on their houses. One house had a huge gold wreath on the front door, while another was covered in tiny white lights that twinkled constantly.
“Boy, it’s pretty this time of year,” said Lisa.
“I know.” Carole smiled at the bright decorations. “If only it would snow.”
Lisa buttoned the top button of her coat against the chilly air. “Hey, how did your toy drive work go yesterday?”
“Great,” said Carole. “Dad and I worked till eight o’clock sorting through all the baby toys and toddler toys. There’s still a ton more to do, though.”
“Will you get it done in time for Christmas?” Lisa asked.
“I’m sure we will. Other Marines are volunteering their time at night.” Carole looked at Lisa. “Do you think you’ll be able to help us distribute the toys when it gets closer to Christmas?”
“Unless I’m dead from helping my mother get ready for our company,” said Lisa with a sigh. “We worked all afternoon and into the night. I’ve never baked so much shortbread before in my life. We’ve got enough to feed an army, and now my mother’s baking some kind of dumpling stuff!” Lisa didn’t mention the awful haggis dish they were supposed to eat—she was afraid Carole might throw up right there on the side of the road.
“Maybe Scottish people have big appetites,” Carole said.
“I hope they do,” replied Lisa. “Otherwise we’ll be eating this stuff for the next three years!”
They turned down Stevie’s driveway. The Lakes’ house was decorated for the holidays as well, with tiny lights glittering on the bushes next to the porch and a big green wreath with a red bow on the front door.
“Looks like the Lakes are ready for Christmas,” Carole said as she rang the doorbell and sniffed the fragrant pine wreath.
“I think the Lakes are ready for everything.” Lisa giggled. “At least I know Stevie is.”
After a moment the big front door swung open. Chad, Stevie’s older brother, stood there, dressed in a warm-up suit, the earphones of a portable CD player plugged into his ears. He smiled when he saw Lisa and Carole and unplugged himself from the music.
“Hi,” he said. “Come on in.”
“Hi, Chad.” Lisa and Carole stepped into the warm living room, where a fire crackled in the fireplace. “Is Stevie here?”
“She’s upstairs practicing her singing.” Chad rolled his eyes. “Which is why I’m down here plugged into Shimmery Emery. Everybody else has gone shopping. Nobody can stand the noise.”
Carole and Lisa gave each other a worried glance. They knew how important singing this solo had become to Stevie. “Is it really that bad?” Carole asked Chad softly.
Chad made a terrible face. “Go upstairs and listen for yourself.”
He plugged back into the CD and went into the den while Carole and Lisa took off their coats and tiptoed upstairs. They didn’t hear any shrieking or off-key singing, so they went to Stevie’s room and knocked on her door.
The door flew open. Stevie stood there, grinning. “Hi!” she said. “I was just trying on my new dress while I was waiting for you guys to show up. Come on in and tell me what you think.”
Carole and Lisa stepped in and closed the door behind them. Stevie stood in the middle of the room and modeled the dress by twirling in a tight circle, holding the skirt out. “Well,” she laughed. “Am I gorgeous or what?”
Lisa and Carole blinked at Stevie. Her dress was a beautiful emerald green velvet that made her hazel eyes sparkle. Her shoulder-length hair looked blonder against the dark green of the dress, and her complexion had a wonderful rosy glow.
“Stevie!” Lisa gasped. “You look beautiful!”
“You certainly do,” agreed
Carole, her eyes wide.
“Well, it’s not as comfortable as jeans and a sweatshirt, but for a dress, it’s not too bad.” Stevie smiled. “I think Phil will really be impressed when the curtains open and there I am, singing a solo in this.”
“Stevie, have you gotten the part for sure yet?” Carole asked gently.
“No, but I know I will. Mr. Vance really likes me. And after all my voice lessons I sound great. And the only other person trying out for the solo is Veronica, and I’ve told you how bad she sounds.” Stevie grinned. “Sit down and I’ll sing my song for you.”
Lisa and Carole plopped onto Stevie’s bed while Stevie rummaged in her backpack for her music.
“This is what I’ve decided to sing tomorrow,” she said, pulling out a sheet of music. “Ms. Bennefield thinks it’s a good choice.”
Lisa and Carole each secretly crossed their fingers and waited for Stevie to begin. She stood before them, cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and started to sing.
“ ‘What child is this, who laid to rest in Mary’s lap is sleeping?’ ” Stevie crooned.
Lisa and Carole glanced at each other. This was amazing! Stevie actually didn’t sound too bad!
“ ‘Whom angels greet with anthems sweet while shepherds watch are keeping?’ ” Stevie sang on. Lisa and Carole could hardly believe their ears. What was Chad talking about? This was actually very good. Stevie sounded a thousand percent better!
“ ‘This, this—’ ”
Just as Stevie’s voice began to climb higher, a thunderous “Stevie!” roared up from downstairs.
Stevie stopped singing and opened the door. “What do you want, Chad?” she shrieked down the staircase. “I was singing!”
“You’ve got a phone call!” Chad bellowed. “I’ve been yelling at you for five minutes!”
“Okay, okay,” called Stevie, closing the door. “Thanks.” She dropped down on her hands and knees and fished her phone out from under her bed. “Hang on,” she said to Carole and Lisa. “I’ll finish my song in a minute.”
She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
Christmas Treasure Page 4