“Are you alright?” Bruno appeared at my side. “Your face is kind of pale.”
“I’m fine. It’s … ” Damn it. I’d been so psyched for this. I did not need to have a freak-out session. Especially not in front of Bruno.
“Hey, don’t worry. Happens to the best of us.” Bruno crouched down in front of me. “Take a few deep breaths. Like this. In through the nose and out through the mouth.”
“Um, Bruno? I’m getting ready to sing, not have a baby.”
Bruno sneered, but it was somehow a kind sneer. “I’m telling you, it works. Try it.”
I did. Once, twice, three times. Sure enough, my heart rate slowed down and the shaking stopped. I loosened my grip on the railing.
“Better?”
“Better.”
Bruno straightened up. “You’ve got this.”
I crossed the stage to stand on the black X Tex had taped down for me. It was one thing to be up there with the whole band but a whole other feeling to stand there alone. I closed my eyes and took one last deep breath.
I picked out a shadowy face in the balcony and focused on it. No idea who you are, dude, but tonight, you’re Danny Boy, and I’m singing to you.
Slowly, a single spotlight shone on me, bright and hot. I couldn’t even see the balcony anymore, much less the guy. That was okay. I’d imagine him. Even better, since this was not just a funeral song but also a love song, I’d imagine him as Zed.
As the crowd quieted down, a dimmer light came up on Sean Lewis toward the back of the stage and he began playing the first mournful notes of “Danny Boy” on his pipes.
I focused on my imaginary Zed and sang.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone, and all the leaves are falling.
’Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
Sean was playing the song a bit slower than I was used to, but it worked, made it sound even more sorrowful. I settled into the gentle rhythm and allowed myself to become the woman in the song—so devoted that my love would persist even into my grave.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow.
’Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow.
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.
And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be.
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
And I shall rest in peace until you come to me.
Oh, Danny Boy, Oh, Danny Boy, I love you so.
By the time I finished, I was covered with sweat. The spotlight had grown brighter and hotter with each passing verse. Not only that, but halfway through the song, my vision of Zed had somehow morphed into someone else.
As the last notes sounded from Sean’s pipes, I lowered my head and closed my eyes, and the spotlight faded to black.
The crowd remained completely silent. Suddenly, the stage lights came up. Sean had slipped off stage and now I was up there alone. I froze. Tex hadn’t told me what to do once the song was over. Should I have slipped offstage, as well? Should I bow? Wave? Say something? Sing something?
I gripped my mic. “It sure was nice to sing that song without a corpse in the room.”
Everyone laughed, the heavy mood broken, and just like that we were back in club mode. The crowd began cheering and chanting again. “Mel. Mel. Mel.”
I turned and stepped offstage as the rest of the band ran on.
Zed grabbed my wrist. “Mel, we have two more songs.”
“I know, but I really need to sit down. You can get through ‘Altogether Blue’ without me. I’ll be back on for ‘Medium Well,’ I promise.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m hot, and a little dizzy, maybe, but I’ll be fine.”
He gave me a quick kiss. “Great job, babe.”
“Thanks.”
I grabbed a water bottle and sat down on the bottom step behind the curtain at the side of the stage, resting my head in my hands. Babe. I was Zed’s girlfriend. In fact, next week at prom, it would become public knowledge that I, Melanie Martin, was dating the guy half the girls in Northern Virginia and soon the whole country and maybe even the whole freaking world wanted to be with.
So, what had happened out there? Why did his face pop up halfway through “Danny Boy”?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I woke up Saturday morning feeling horrible. I’d downed exactly one drink—a shot of whiskey after our last encore to try to erase a certain image from my brain—but I felt as hung over as if I’d had five. Even worse, despite the fact that I’d tried to hydrate between every song, my throat was scratchy.
My first thought when I opened my eyes: I’m going to suck at All State. My second thought: So what? I just needed to get through this concert so I could get on with my life. My real life.
I lay in bed for a few minutes replaying last night in my mind. The part where Zed kissed me, the part where Bruno introduced me, the part where I went out and sang “Danny Boy” and pretty much stole the whole freaking show. Now I knew why Tex had added that to our encore. In fact, I knew why he’d agreed to manage The Grime, and even gave us our audition in the first place.
For the past two years, All State had meant so much to me. It was the highlight of my singing career, but now it felt like a kid’s game, something I’d outgrown on my way to something bigger, better and a whole lot more fun.
Lana rode down with me. She’d only ever attended one of my choral concerts before, back when we were freshmen, but suddenly she seemed interested. I didn’t ask why. Even if my suspicions were right, she’d never admit it. I’d been pushing for her to give Pete a chance for so long, and she hated it when I was right.
“I only got to talk to Bruno for a few minutes after the show,” Lana said as we drove. “He said he was tired and didn’t want to stay out.”
Thankfully I was driving and didn’t have to look at her. The vision I’d had during “Danny Boy” had haunted my dreams all night long. “It’s more exhausting than you might think,” I said. “You have so much energy while you’re up there and then you crash when it’s over.”
“I guess.” Lana’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “But I don’t think he’s that into me.”
I could feel her staring hard, looking for a reaction. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “He’s going to prom with you. Guys like Bruno don’t go to prom unless they’re into you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s doing it as a favor to Zed. Or maybe he thought he was into me but decided he’s not. Maybe he’s found somebody he’s more into.”
My stomach did a little flip. Stupid stomach. It had no business flipping over Bruno. First of all, he was Lana’s. Second of all, the chances he felt anything for me were nil. Yes, he’d been nice to me last night, but that meant nothing. If he had his way, I’d be out of The Grime in a heartbeat. Third, I was dating Zed. Sexy, beautiful, amazing Zed. “He was tired, that’s all,” I said finally. “Don’t turn it into something it’s not.”
Whether I was trying to convince Lana or myself, I wasn’t sure.
***
The auditorium was packed. Most years it was about a quarter full, mostly with parents and a few grandparents, but today it was standing room only, and it seemed as though everyone had a video camera in their hand.
I smiled at Ms. Jensen when I reached the staging room. I hoped she felt bad about taking away my two measly solo lines. This competition could have been all over YouTube. Did
she expect any of those people to post videos of Sadie? Doubtful.
While my chorus mates warmed up their voices, I grabbed a hot tea with lemon. I wanted to disappear into a corner and nurse my throat and my throbbing head, but kids from the other schools kept coming up and asking me to autograph their programs.
After writing, “Never stop singing—Mel” for about the fiftieth time, I glanced up and noticed Pete watching me from across the room. He was his usual self—calm, cool, collected, the most confident guy in chorus. I put away my pen and walked over to him. Part of me wanted to know whether he’d been at the concert last night, but a bigger part of me didn’t want him to know I cared.
“How are you doing?” Pete asked.
“I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Right.” Pete nodded. “Guess you don’t get nervous anymore.”
“Yeah, well. Not much to be nervous about, since … ” Out of nowhere, tears stung my eyes. Seriously? I was going to cry over two stupid lines? I forced a smile. “Anyway, I’m good. Awesome. Had a great show last night—amazing crowd.” My voice was growing louder as I talked, and kids were turning to stare. I wanted to shut up, but I couldn’t help myself. “Our manager thinks we’re ready to start touring. Maybe even some international dates—Europe, Australia.” I was practically shouting now, and I was making it up as I went along. Tex had been in a great mood last night after the show, and he had mentioned doing some gigs in Baltimore and Philadelphia next month, but Europe hadn’t quite come up.
“That’s great.” Pete put his hand on my arm. The look in his eyes was—what? Concern? Pity? Disgust? “Listen, I’m sorry I missed your solo last night. I needed to run after the first set.”
So he had been there. For some reason, this made me tear up again. I wanted to give him a hug, but instead I shrugged. “Thanks for coming. I know you needed to be ready for … ” I gestured toward the stage door. My voice caught in my throat, and I turned and ran toward the girls’ bathroom. I closed a stall door behind me and leaned against it as a single tear escaped and ran down my cheek.
What was wrong with me?
I took a few deep breaths. It was a stupid high school concert. My life was bigger than this now. I’d played the freaking 9:30 Club last night, and I might be playing the Trocadero in Philly in June. Europe and Australia actually were not beyond the realm of possibility. If not this year, maybe next.
Halfway through my little internal pep talk, someone banged on the stall door. “Edison’s up next. Get it together.”
I washed my face at the sink and rushed out to join my chorus mates as we walked onto the stage.
I basically mouthed the words to the first song, giving my throat a break. The alto part for that one was practically non-existent anyway.
Next, Pete stepped forward for “Awake.” I tried to find Lana out in the audience so I could watch her reaction, but it was too dark.
He sounded amazing, as always. If Lana had even the slightest interest, she had to have been swooning by the time he finished. I found myself praying she would. I’d always wanted her to like him, and now I wanted it more than ever. I didn’t let myself think about why.
Finally it was time for the “The New Moon.” I didn’t know what made me do it. Maybe it was all the stress of the past couple of days, maybe it was lack of sleep, maybe it was all those video cameras pointed at me—probably it was all of the above—but when we got to Sadie’s solo, I made it a duet.
A wisp of beauty all alone,
In a world as hard and gray as stone.
Sadie stiffened beside me, but she never faltered. And I hated to admit it, but Pete was right. She was good. Her voice may not have been as strong as mine, but it was sweet and her pitch was perfect. Together, we brought just the right tone of melancholy to the lines.
As we finished the song and exited the stage, I could feel the cold stares of my chorus mates. As soon as the door shut behind us, Sadie turned on me. “What was that?” Her eyeliner seemed to grow even darker as she glared.
“Sorry. That was not planned, I swear.” I pushed past her. Sadie was a sophomore. She’d have lots of chances to sing solo before she graduated. Heck, I was her only real competition, and the way things were going with The Grime, I probably wouldn’t even go out for chorus next year.
I tried to make a quick escape toward the exit, but Pete’s voice stopped me. “That was so not cool.”
I swung around. Everyone was watching me.
“Really? What was so not cool about it? The fact that we sounded amazing as a duet? Or the fact that our concert will actually make it onto YouTube now? Or maybe what was so not cool about it is the fact that instead of drowning in the anonymity of high school chorus, Sadie will now go down in history as the girl who sang ‘New Moon’ with the Funeral Singer.”
Pete placed a protective arm around Sadie’s shoulders. “Nice, Mel. Real attractive.” He shook his head. “What’s happening to you?”
I stepped toward him. “Sadie’s not the only one I’m saving from anonymity, you know.”
Pete’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, come on. Half the choral community in Virginia is sitting out there, including, I’m sure, someone from UVA’s program.”
Pete flinched. “So? I told you I won’t have time for that.”
“And why is that exactly?” I took another step forward and placed my hands on my hips. “You complain that I’m wasting my gift, but at least I’m singing. At least I’m taking some chances and putting myself out there and trying to make something of myself. And it just so happens that because of that, some very influential people were in the audience today who might discover you and your gift.” I turned to go, then swiveled back around. “No need to thank me.”
I marched out, ignoring the stares. Screw them. Screw chorus. I was over it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Prom week was crazy. Molly went braless and wore microskirts pretty much every day, and Hannah acted extra fake, smiling and complimenting people she wouldn’t normally deign to acknowledge. Whatever. I had them both beat.
Lana and I convinced Zed, Bruno and Ty to let us go into their Facebook accounts and send friend requests to just about the entire junior class. Then I tagged everyone who’d gone to the 9:30 Club in all of my photos from the concert and dropped a few hints that backstage passes might be available for the next gig.
When Saturday finally arrived, Lana and I got our hair, makeup and nails done at Zoe’s Day Salon and then went to my house to get dressed.
“It’s going to be so weird to see everyone all fancy, especially the guys,” I said as I adjusted the straps on the back of Lana’s gown, untwisting them so they’d crisscross evenly against her back. “I can’t even imagine some of them in tuxes. Zed and Bruno are going to look amazing, though. We’ll be the envy of—” I glanced up and noticed Lana’s expression in the mirror. “What’s wrong?”
“I found something.” Lana’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Found what?”
“I wasn’t going to say anything until after tonight, but I can’t stand it. I have to show you.” She grabbed her purse off my bed and pulled out a crumpled sheet, unfolding it slowly. “This was in Bruno’s coat pocket the other night. I found it when I was looking for his gum. I probably shouldn’t have taken it, but I thought … well, you’ll see.”
I sat down on the bed and took the sheet from her.
With you I can breathe.
With you I believe.
Sink or swim, just like him,
But your smile reels me in.
Gives me air, gives me life,
Turns my days into nights.
One by one, I take it slow,
And with you, I know
The sun will rise, rise again.
The sun will rise and warm me,
And I’ll breathe.
I’ll breathe.
I believe.
“Wow. That’s
intense.”
“I know, right?” She ran her fingertips gently across the words on the sheet. “Who would have thought Bruno Locke would be so … vulnerable?”
So Bruno was into Lana after all. Like, really into her. Can’t-breathe-without-you into her. My hands shook as I fussed with one of the rhinestones on my dress. For some reason it refused to line up with the others. I tried and tried, but it kept skewing a half inch off. “What is wrong with this stupid thing?”
“I was afraid he might throw it away,” Lana said, completely ignoring my dilemma. “That’s why I kept it. It’s so beautiful, he needs to do something with it.”
A love song from Bruno to Lana. Maybe I could sing backup. Awesome. “Was this crooked when I bought it? Because if you remember, I tried this freaking dress on three times in the store and none of us ever noticed.”
“Mel.” Lana grabbed my shoulders and waited until I looked at her. “That is probably because it is one teeny, tiny rhinestone. No one noticed, and no one will notice. Now, please listen to me. I’m trying to tell you something.”
“I’m sorry.” I summoned every trick from choral training to steady my voice. “You’re right. It’s a beautiful song and he should do something with it. If you want, I’ll talk to him about recording it for you.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t think it’s about me.” She bit her lip and her voice caught. “It’s about you.”
“What? But I … Are you crazy? Bruno doesn’t even like me, much less … ” I pointed to the sheet in her hand. “Much less that.”
Lana shook her head. “Not true. I can see it in the way he looks at you, Mel. He does like you. He more than likes you.”
I sank down onto the bed. What was Lana talking about? Half the time Bruno looked at me he was sneering. Wasn’t he? “You’re being silly,” I said. “After all, he’s taking you to prom. And anyway, you’re the Guy Magnet. No way can he resist your charms.”
“He seems to be. We’ve only ever kissed a couple of times, and we’ve never … well … more than kissed.”
Never? A sense of relief washed through me. And I hated myself for it.
The Funeral Singer Page 14