Upstaged

by Patricia McCowan

  I remember not to push the higher notes so they don’t sound harsh. During the first chorus, Harper’s fingers tap my back—a hint to move closer to her so our voices meld. My mouth dries out. So much to worry about. At least my knees have stopped shaking.

  The second verse. Something shifts in me. The song takes over. Jess’s voice is a deep current for Harper and me to sail on top of. It’s suddenly easy to know when to breathe. I risk a look at the audience—smiling faces, a few people singing softly along. Everyone is together in the song. Nothing matters but all of us right here, right now, living the music. And my voice is helping to make this happen.

  Too soon, the song ends. Jess’s last chord vibrates in the air. Then, a beat of thick silence.

  “Thank you,” Harper murmurs into the mic.

  Cheers break the spell. Relief washes over me like a sweet, cool shower, and I laugh.

  I did it. I remembered the words, I got the harmonies, I didn’t suck. I performed. I want to do this again. No, I have to do this again. I stand there, grinning, until Darrell waves us forward. “Take your bows!”

  I practically fly to the front of the stage, and the clapping gets louder. Harper gets there next. She shoots me a dark look, freezing me for a second, then smiles out at the audience. Jess joins us. We all hold hands and bow. As the clapping dies down, Harper pulls her hand away and blows a kiss to the audience, triggering one last wave of applause.

  “That’s how it’s done,” she says so only I can hear, and she heads backstage.