11. A Friend in Need
“Hey! How you doin’?” Chloe looked up. It was the man with the graying dreadlocks again, standing in the doorway. “Hey,” he said again, his smile fading. “It can’t be as bad as that. What’s up?”
Chloe couldn’t help it. She just burst into tears. And then it all came tumbling out. About how she’d wanted to be a pop singer for so long and about her Big Chance and how she’d ruined it. The nail-polish present that had destroyed her jacket, and getting lost, and worst of all not being able to sing because of the lump in her throat.
“Everything has gone wrong,” she told him between hiccuping sobs. “Mr. Player thinks I don’t really want to sing. He told me not to let my parents push me into it. But it was them who wanted to stop me!” She was crying so hard it was a wonder he could make out anything she said.
“Here,” he said, handing her a huge blue hankie. “Can I join you?” She nodded and he put the plastic bag he was holding on the ground and eased himself down with a grunt. “I eat my lunch here most days,” he told her. “Though I usually prefer the bench.”
Chloe looked to where he was pointing and saw an old wooden bench. She felt guilty that he was sitting on the flagstones because of her, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was leaning back against the wall, his wrinkled, brown face turned up to the pale patch of blue sky above. Once she’d blown into the hankie a few times, it was very quiet in the sunny little courtyard.
“Why d’you want to be a pop singer so much, anyhow?” he asked.
“I’ve always wanted to,” Chloe sniffed, wiping her nose.
“But why? Wantin’ to isn’t an answer.”
She sniffed again. No one had ever asked her why before. She thought hard about what he’d asked.
“So I can be famous, I guess,” she said at last. It didn’t seem like a very good reason once she’d said it, but he didn’t laugh at her. He just asked another question.
“And why d’you want to be famous so much?”
She leaned against the wall like him. It was warm against her back. She thought about all the things she could have if she were famous. She thought of flying around the world, staying in big hotels, earning lots of money, and having people cheer and clap when she went anywhere. She did want all those things, but she wanted something else much more.
“I want people to like it when I sing,” she said. “I don’t want them to say I’m showing off like they did at my last school. I want them to really like it. I want to make people happy when I sing.”
He turned and looked at her. He really was quite an old man, with wrinkles and lines scribbled all over his face. But his eyes were different. They looked young somehow. They were full of fire and they lit up his face.
“I know what you mean,” he said quietly. “Makin’ music is a very fine thing. But you don’t have to be famous to do it.”
“I do,” said Chloe. Then she explained about her room, and Ben, and about the teacher who had stopped her from singing naturally.
“That teacher must have been one jealous old coot,” he said. That made Chloe laugh and cry at the same time and she had to blow her nose again.
“What song did you sing today?” he asked at last, when she had recovered herself a bit.
She told him sadly. His laugh was a huge guffaw of merriment.
“Why, man, that’s one crazy song!” he said, grinning broadly at her. “It’s not my kind of music at all. Why’d you want to sing that?”
“I don’t know.” Chloe sniffed. She tried to be annoyed, but his laughter was so infectious she couldn’t. “Jess thought it was a good idea.”
“The way I see it is,” he went on, “you got so worked up, no way could you sing, however good your voice is. But I’m sure those tears have melted that lump in your throat. Isn’t that so? Reckon you could sing that song now?”
He hummed the tune quietly, one hand tapping out the time on his knee. He might not like the song, but he certainly knew it. His whole body was moving with the rhythm and Chloe found it easy to join in. To her surprise, the lump in her throat was completely gone. He nodded at her and grinned and they finished the song together.
“Do you think Mr. Player will still be there?” Chloe asked him eagerly. She felt so much better, she was sure she’d be able to sing well for him now.
The old man shook his gray dreadlocks. “I don’t know. D’you want us to find out?”
Chloe nodded. If only she could have another chance. She knew she wouldn’t make a mess of it this time.
“Here!” He took a package of sandwiches out of the plastic bag and handed the bag to her. “You put your jacket in there.”
He struggled to his feet, and they went back to the audition room together. He had just raised his hand to knock when the door opened and the lady who’d played the piano came out.
“Hello, Jim,” she said to the old man. “Do you want Jeremy? He’s still here. You just caught him.” She smiled at Chloe and hurried away down the hall.
“Jeremy!” Jim put his arm around Chloe and brought her with him into the room.
Mr. Player turned around from the piano, where he’d been stacking paperwork. “Are you going for lunch?” he asked, and then paused, noticing Chloe. “Is there a problem?” he added.
“Not really,” said Jim in a cheerful voice, “but this young lady had a few disasters before she sang for you, and she wondered if she could have another chance.”
Chloe held her breath. If only he would say yes. She was sure she’d be able to sing beautifully for him now.
“Well. . .What’s your name?” Chloe told him and Mr. Player shuffled through his papers. “Yes, here it is. You’re one of the new applicants from Beacon Comprehensive, aren’t you? No previous experience of performing. . .Tompkins, Chloe. That’s you, isn’t it?”
Chloe nodded furiously.
“I remember. You were the one that sang scales on the recording.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Well, come here.” He went around to the piano keyboard and played a chord. “Sing these scales quickly for me.”
Chloe did as he asked. He didn’t tell her to stop when she was finding it difficult, and Chloe did her best to keep going, but in the end she was forced to stop.
“Okay,” he said, when she’d sung as high and as low as she possibly could. “I don’t have time to listen to your audition song again now, but I know it’s on your school recording. I’ll listen to it again later. That’s the best I can do.”
“Thank you,” said Chloe, trying to stop her voice from wobbling. She didn’t mind singing scales, but it was hardly a performance, and her voice had squeaked embarrassingly on the last couple of high notes.
“You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me. . .”
“Thanks, Jeremy,” Jim added, steering Chloe toward the door. “I’ll catch you later.”
As soon as they were out of the door, she turned to face him. She was going to thank him, but he waved her thanks aside.
“Now don’t you worry,” he said. “You can’t make things turn out right every time. But you’ve had another chance now, and you can be sure there will be others. You have a fine voice, and I can see you’re determined enough to get there in the end. You’re one of those brave people who get up and fight again after they’ve been knocked down. Isn’t that so?” Chloe nodded. No way was she going to let herself cry again. Not if he thought she was brave.
“What does the teacher in your new school say?” he asked.
“He says I should join the choir. And he let me be in the chorus of Bugsy Malone,” she told him, trying hard to look on the bright side.
“Well, I would say that’s a good start,” the old man said. “I began in my school choir many years ago, before I had my first guitar. It might not always be your sort of music, but it’s better than none. And Bugsy, I know that! You’ll have fun doing Mr. Bugsy Malone, and you won’t get spoiled in a school production.”
“What do you
mean?”
He looked down at her and smiled, but he looked sad. “Well, I’ve seen so many people in this business spoiled by fame,” he said. “Good people some of them, who couldn’t handle the money, or the attention, and wrecked their lives because of it. I’ve had friends who started off like you, wantin’ to make music. By the time they’d finished, they didn’t know what they wanted anymore. They ended up ruined by drink, drugs, or fast livin’. They got lost along the way, Chloe.” He sighed.
“This is a fine school, and they work hard at keepin’ the kids on the straight ’n’ narrow. But it’s a tough business to survive in. It’s easy to forget that however famous you become, you’re still the same, ordinary person inside. Don’t leave your old friends behind if you do get famous. They are the ones who will keep you sane because they know who you really are.” He smiled again. “It’s been fun singin’ with you, Chloe Tompkins. Enjoy Bugsy Malone now, won’t you?”
Chloe offered him his hankie back, but he just looked at it and laughed. “Reckon it’s more yours than mine now,” he said. “You keep it to remind you of the fun we had singin’ that crazy song together.” He took her hand, sticky as it was, and shook it, as if she were an adult. Then he turned, and left Chloe alone, feeling empty and hollow inside, but somehow calm and comforted, too.
12. Diamond Days
Chloe wandered back to the entrance hall deep in thought. The old man was probably right. Maybe there would be other chances. After all, not every famous pop singer had been to Rockley Park School.
There was a guided tour of the school before they went home. Chloe didn’t really feel like going on it, but she knew she’d regret it if she didn’t. They trailed around in a large group, and were shown classrooms, the dining room, the dance studio, and even one of the bright, cheerful bedrooms where the students slept. Chloe was so fascinated she almost forgot that she’d failed her audition. Most exciting of all was the room Chloe had passed with the red warning light outside. The light was needed because down that short passage was the school’s very own recording studio!
Chloe squeezed into the control room with the others. Through the glass panel behind the mixing desk she could see a rock band setting up. They had one little room for the drum kit and another for the guitarists. There were cables trailing everywhere and all the musicians had headphones on. The mixing desk looked so complicated. There were rows and rows of knobs, and several computer screens, too. A gray-haired man in a cardigan and wearing headphones was twiddling the knobs and talking to himself.
“Give me some snare, Joe,” he’d say. Or, “Floor tom. Steady beat.” Chloe hadn’t a clue what was going on, but she could have stayed there all day.
“This is Mr. Timms, our recording engineer and head of music technology,” said the boy who was showing them around. Mr. Timms took off his headphones and swiveled his chair to face his visitors.
“I’m doing sound checks at the moment,” he said. “But I can show you how we record music on lots of different tracks and then put them all together. Here, each of the black lines shows a sound picked up by a different microphone.” He pointed to where lots of lines were running slowly across a computer screen.
“It’s like the monitors you see in hospital dramas on TV!” said a girl at the back of the room. Everyone laughed, but Mr. Timms nodded.
“Very similar,” he agreed. “The lines on hospital monitors jump whenever there is a heartbeat. Here they jump when there is a drumbeat. Look. Give me a bit of snare again,” he said into a microphone set into the mixing desk. So he wasn’t talking to himself after all! He had been talking to the drummer in the studio. As the boy hit a drum, one of the lines on the screen jumped up and down.
“There you are,” said Mr. Timms. “Now, I have five different microphones on those drums. Each one will pick up a different sound and the sounds will be recorded separately. Now, listen to this.” They all watched while he twiddled several knobs. The lines disappeared for a moment. When they came back, they were all jumping and jerking on the screen.
“This is a recording I made a while ago,” Mr. Timms explained. “Ten microphones were used, so you can see ten separate lines jumping. With these sliders on the mixing desk, I can bring in whichever sound I like, however softly or loudly I need it.”
It was amazing! When all the sounds were turned up, Chloe could hear a band playing with drums, guitars, and two singers. As he slid the knobs, different sounds were taken away until Mr. Timms was left with one of the guitars all on its own. It was awesome. Chloe wished she could give it a try.
“Those of you who get a chance to go to this school will learn how to mix the music you make,” Mr. Timms said. “Understanding recording techniques is an important part of making music in the twenty-first century.”
As the group made their way back out of the studio, they passed Chloe’s friend with the dreadlocks. He was waiting to go into the control room.
“Hey! Chloe,” he said, grinning at her as if they’d been friends forever. “How y’doin’, kid?” Chloe grinned back.
“Fine,” she said. “Thanks.”
Several of the kids looked at her enviously, and once they were out of the studio one said, “How do you know him?”
“We talked earlier.” Chloe shrugged, not wanting to admit how upset she’d been.
“Lucky you!” said a girl she’d seen earlier who had been carrying a guitar.
“Why?” Chloe asked. The girl stared at her.
“Don’t you know who he is?” she asked. Chloe shook her head. “He’s only Judge Jim Henson!” the girl said. “He’s head of the rock department! I was scared stiff doing my audition in front of him. He’s performed with lots of incredible people in his time!”
“Oh!” Chloe said. “Well, he’s really nice.”
Before everyone went home, they filed into the small theater, where Mrs. Sharkey, the principal, was waiting to speak to them.
“Only a few of you will be accepted as students here,” she said. “But I don’t want any of you to go home feeling like failures. You all have something to offer, otherwise we wouldn’t have called you for interview.”
Chloe perked up at that. They must have thought she had something about her. And she wouldn’t be the only one to go home disappointed. She hadn’t thought about lots of the others being rejected, too.
“You all have ambitions,” Mrs. Sharkey continued. “And, whatever they are, you must hold on to them with all your strength. Being a success in the music industry is one dream that many people will tell you is impossible to achieve. But never you mind if no one at home takes your ambitions seriously. Never mind if you don’t know anyone else who has achieved what you want to achieve.” Chloe listened carefully.
“Maybe you won’t make it,” Mrs. Sharkey admitted. “There is a risk of that in every career choice. But you don’t want to worry about that now. You are just at the beginning of your lives. These are your Diamond Days, when anything can happen. Walk toward your dream every day with a sparkle in your eye. Don’t worry if you don’t know the way. Trust your heart to lead you and you won’t go far wrong. Thank you all for coming, and I wish you all the very best.”
Chloe filed out with the others.
“How did you do?” Danny asked her as they met in the main hall.
She shrugged. “Not very well,” she told him reluctantly. “How about you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “It was scary. Come on,” he added, “let’s go and find your parents.”
Chloe wanted to stay positive on the way home, but it wasn’t easy. Mrs. Sharkey might be right about Diamond Days, but not only had Chloe ruined her Big Chance, now she also had to face her mom about her ruined jacket!
13. Waiting
Chloe managed to avoid telling about her jacket on the way home, but once they had dropped Danny off and come inside, she couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.
“Honestly!” her mom exploded when she saw the mess the jacket was in. “What
were you thinking of, carrying nail polish in your pocket all day? That was a really silly thing to do.” Chloe could feel tears seeping out of her eyes.
Her mom sighed, put the jacket down, and folded Chloe in her arms. Chloe wished she were a little girl again, and could sit on her mom’s lap. She hugged her back instead.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Come on. You’re overtired and overemotional,” Mom said. “It’s been a long day. Don’t cry. We all do silly things sometimes. I’ve got a new bottle of nail-polish remover in the bathroom. Bring it down and we’ll try getting the polish out.”
Chloe still didn’t feel like talking about the audition, but now that she was home, her mom and dad wanted to hear all about it. Bit by bit, the whole sorry tale came out. Chloe’s mom and dad did what they could to help her make the best of it.
“Imagine Judge Jim Henson helping you out,” Dad said. “I’ve always loved his music. What an experience you’ve had!”
“That’s right,” Mom agreed. “No one can take that away from you. It’s been a day you’ll always remember.”
That was certainly true.
The next day was Saturday, and Jess came over. Chloe had been looking forward to seeing her so much, but at first they were very awkward with each other.
“I meant for you to wear the polish, not carry it around in the bottle,” Jess said when Chloe told her about the accident.
“Sorry,” Chloe said. For a few moments there was silence.
“It’s all right,” said Jess. And suddenly everything was all right between them again.
It helped that Chloe didn’t have anything to crow about. They put some music on, and while it played Chloe told Jess all about her disaster of a day at Rockley Park.
“I’m so glad we’re friends again,” she added. “It was horrible when you wouldn’t speak to me.”
“I was just so jealous,” Jess admitted. “I tried to tell myself it was all your fault that I hadn’t got an interview, but of course it wasn’t. Mr. Watkins must have been right about singing scales. I’m glad he didn’t ask me to do it. I could never have sung them like you did. Anyway, I’m sorry you messed up the day, but I’m glad we’re still going to be going to school together. And you know, I’m not sure I’d really want to be a pop singer anymore.”
Reach for the Stars Page 5