“It’s going to be weird not going there to rehearse.” Even I can hear the hitch in my voice, and I lower my head so Matthew won’t be able to tell that my eyes are filling with tears.
How can I give up seeing Francine and Mr. and Mrs. Yee? Matthew’s grandparents are always so kind, always dressed up so nicely, offering us tea and cookies. I’m going to miss the way they stare at Matthew when they think he’s not watching, beaming.
“I think they’d be sad if we didn’t come back. In fact, they have a little bet going.”
There’s a lightness in Matthew’s voice that helps me push back the tears, blink them away. “What kind of bet? Like about the show?”
“No,” he laughs, and I can’t help it, I meet his eyes. “They think there’s a secret romance going on in our little group.”
The warmth that’s filling me has nothing to do with the hot chocolate and the cozy café and everything to do with Matthew’s words and the way he’s staring at me.
“Um, what do you mean?”
My heart is pounding in my ears, and I’m suddenly afraid of what he’ll say. What if—
“They think that Eric is secretly in love with Renee. The bet is whether or not he’ll tell her by the night of the performance.”
His voice has now gone serious, and his eyes have questions in them. But it’s hard to think because I’m reeling from what he just said, the distance between that and what I wished he’d said. Or maybe I don’t care. Maybe this is all in my head.
“I told them that I thought maybe he was interested in you.”
I sputter and shake my head, and I don’t even know how to feel, what to think. I don’t know what Matthew is trying to say.
“Eric isn’t interested in me,” I whisper, finally admitting it to myself. And I realize I’m okay with it. “We’re friends. That’s the only way he’s ever thought of me. And I’m quite sure that’s how Renee thinks of him as well.”
I’d be okay if Renee liked Eric, I realize, and not just because I know she’s not interested in him like that. If that ever changes, I’ll make sure to tell her that whatever I felt for Eric is long gone.
“I think …” Matthew pauses and fills his lungs with air. And just then my phone pings. Even though it’s in the dark recesses of my bag where I can’t even find it, I can hear it ping. And then I hear the honk from outside, and spot my mom’s car.
I want to ask Matthew what he thinks. I want to know whether it’s something about me and Eric, or me and him. Or maybe Eric and Renee. I want to know and yet it’s so much safer not knowing. Because once you know, you can’t un-know it. And then you have to deal with the consequences.
Ignoring Matthew, I rise out of my seat and wave at my mom across the street. I drink down the last of my hot chocolate, and then tip it back to get a little bit more. God, that chocolate was amazing.
“Do you want me to ask if she can drive you home also?” I ask, pretending that there isn’t this huge thing floating between us. All these questions and an interrupted I think.
“I’m good,” he says. “My mom will be here soon.”
I flip on my coat, trying desperately not to smack anyone with my scarf and all my layers. It’s snowing again, and the windows are slightly steamed, and I can’t believe that Matthew Yee and I went out for hot chocolate in this cute little café as it snowed outside. It’s probably the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me and I spent the whole time worrying.
Typical.
“Thank you,” I whisper because once again I’m an emotional mess. “This was really fun.”
Matthew grins. “Next time you’ll have to get that chocolate brownie bar. It’s really so good!”
I nod and wonder about his words as I maneuver through the crowded café. Did he mean next time we come here together, or next time I come here by myself?
Boys are just too complicated.
It’s the day of the big audition, and the hallway is filled with carolers. Technically, there are only sixteen of us, but for some reason, it feels like many more right now.
Maybe it’s because I’m finding it hard to breathe.
Renee’s fingers are clasped in mine, and based on the way she’s wincing every so often, I think I might be holding on too tight. But when I ask her if I’m crushing her hand, she shakes her head.
We aren’t ready.
I know anything can happen, and I know we’ve practiced as much as we can, but I also know that we’ve been distracted.
I’ve been distracted.
I glance over to Matthew, who is in the middle of an animated conversation with Eric, and I can’t believe that three weeks ago, the thought of having to sing with him made me annoyed. Three weeks ago, I could barely talk to Eric without stuttering, and I thought the only thing that was important was winning the solo.
I let go of Renee and wipe my palms on my skirt, try to calm my breathing. Did what I want change or did I let myself get distracted? Am I going to miss my chance to finally sing onstage, all eyes on me, just because a cute boy with floppy hair paid attention to me?
Or did I decide getting the solo didn’t matter as much as I thought it did?
We’re the last to be called. When Mrs. Hamilton finally asks us into the room, it doesn’t feel like I’m walking into the audition of my life. It feels like Renee is dragging me inside.
We don’t have this.
“Hey, Charlie, Renee, Eric, and Matthew!” Mrs. Hamilton gives each of us a high five, her special thing, and then nods down at the car seat in front of her. “I’m sorry that Ethan’s appearance threw a wrench into all our plans.”
The baby bundled up in the carrier doesn’t look like the type to cause major problems. All I can see is his little face, his pink lips pursed together.
“He’s beautiful,” I say, and as he starts shifting, Mrs. Hamilton rocks the seat lightly until he settles back.
“Thank you. And thank you for finding a solution to the rehearsing issue.”
“Which rehearsing solution?” Eric chimes in. “We’ve had a few now.”
Mrs. Hamilton marvels as we explain the places we’ve had to rehearse, our different audiences.
“Well,” she finally says when we’re through. “Let’s hear what you’ve got!”
We got inspired by singing at Auburn, so we changed up our song list a little. It’s mostly the same as what we’d begun by singing on the street corners, but with the tempo we developed during our afternoons at Auburn. More old-fashioned than pop. We sound good but we make some mistakes, and I can read our every misstep on Mrs. Hamilton’s face.
But still we sing our hearts out. We perform “The Little Drummer Boy” slowly, the way Francine’s mom used to like it, and then we sing “Silent Night” the way the folks at Auburn requested it. And when it comes to “Let It Go,” Renee and Eric sing it the way they’d done it that first day on the street, though with a little less shivering from all of us. And “Hanukkah, O Hanukkah” sounds just like it did when we sang it at Renee’s Hanukkah party: playful and fun, and a perfect segue into our final song: my duet with Eric of “Blue Christmas.” My eyes fill with tears and my voice grows thick, but I can’t help it. What if this is the last time we’re singing together?
What if things go back to the way they used to be when this is all over?
“Thank you so much,” Mrs. Hamilton says as the last notes dissolve. The four of us join hands and take a little bow, and I don’t think I’m imagining that Matthew’s grip on my hand is as tight as mine is on Renee’s.
“Do you have a minute?” Matthew asks Mrs. Hamilton. “I had a question.”
It’s over. It’s over.
“I have to go,” I whisper to nobody in particular as Matthew starts talking to Mrs. Hamilton, as Eric and Renee confer in the corner. I use the lack of attention to race out of the room before the tears can make their way down my cheeks.
Renee’s texts are coming fast and furious.
I stare at my phone. I can’t
figure out which is more likely: that Renee would call the police or my mom. Either way, I know I’m being ridiculous. Especially since I’m sitting in a bathroom stall, which is all kinds of ick. Zombie apocalypse? I might be patient zero.
I snort a laugh. Renee has become so strong on her crutches, my guess is that if she’s with Eric and Matthew, she’s leaving them in the dust.
Matthew. And Eric. I didn’t say good-bye to them. I just ran.
Shoot. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to face anyone. I failed.
Another text comes in.
I move.
Renee is true to her word, and she doesn’t try to engage me in conversation during the short drive to Auburn. I’m not sure what she’s told her mom, but even Mrs. Levine doesn’t ask questions. The silence lasts until we’re inside the building, moving toward the atrium. Except, instead of just our regular crowd, there’s a larger than usual number of people congregated near our makeshift stage. Eric’s parents are there, as well as Matthew’s and Matthew’s grandparents, and Francine and Hank. And even my parents and Sadie.
And Mrs. Hamilton.
What’s Mrs. Hamilton doing here?
“Hey!” Matthew smiles when he sees us approaching. He nods at his grandfather and then in two long strides he’s in front of us.
“Hey,” I mumble, my hair falling forward to cover my face. I can’t believe I ran like that. Matthew must think—
“I hope you aren’t mad at me,” Matthew says, and he glances over at Renee, who gives him a nod. He’s talking quickly, so I know he’s nervous. “I’ve been talking with the other groups over the past few days, and everyone really loved singing in their quartets. Anna’s group did a whole medley just of Hanukkah songs, and Evan’s group did Christmas carols in different languages. And Phoebe’s group found some really interesting old carols that I’d never even heard of.”
His voice conveys how impressed he was, and it makes me feel even worse. We weren’t as creative as those other groups. Even if I’d known deep down that we didn’t have a shot, any tiny thread of hope just dissolved. I wrap my arms around my middle.
“I was talking with Mrs. Hamilton after our audition, and I suggested a new plan. The truth is that, apart from a couple of songs that we all know really well, we haven’t practiced as a chorus since before Thanksgiving. Which means we probably won’t sound all that good unless someone is willing to work with us every day after school until the concert. And there’s nobody who can do that.”
He takes a deep breath, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard the intake of air since he started talking. He really cares about this. It’s so clear now.
“So I recommended to Mrs. Hamilton that we change the holiday concert. All four quartets would be able to perform, because she thought that we were all equally strong. Or maybe strong in different ways.” His voice deepens on those last words, and I gulp. We were strong? He nods, as though he could hear my thoughts. “Instead of doing the usual concert at school, I proposed we do a caroling event here, at Auburn, as a way of thanking them for hosting us and as a way of bringing the holiday music out where people need it. The chorus would start off with one carol and then each group will perform on their own, and then the chorus will finish all together.”
This wasn’t making any sense. The holiday concert wouldn’t be a real chorus concert with soloists or a concert with a special performance. It would be a series of performances, and it would be here?
“But there’s no stage?” I can hear the ridiculousness in the question as soon as it leaves my lips.
“Nope,” Matthew says with a grin. “There isn’t. But the chorus has sixteen fantastic singers and we can use this makeshift stage. And there’s plenty of room for an audience and all our families.”
At that, I turn to my parents, who are chatting with Francine.
I try not to let the hurt zing through me. “That’s not going to be a big deal for me because my parents are going away.”
“Yup,” says Matthew with a grin, and I’m starting to get freaked out by this happy, grinning Matthew. Who is he? “They’re going away on Friday morning. But, luckily, Auburn wants us to perform here on Thursday night. So not only will your parents be in the audience, but so will your grandparents, since their train will be here by showtime.”
This time his grin is infectious and I can’t help but get caught up in it. Wait, how does he know all this stuff? And why?
“Why did you do all this?” I blurt. “Chorus isn’t even really your thing. Neither is Christmas, I guess?”
“True, I don’t love Christmas as much as you do,” he says, and the laughing is gone from his voice. “Or chorus for that matter. But these past weeks of rehearsing together have really shown me the difference holiday songs make in people’s lives. How it reminds them of where they come from. How it brings people happiness. How it brings people together.”
He takes a small step forward and my heart rate accelerates so fast I’m worried that everyone can hear it. But when he looks at me that way, I don’t notice anything but him and his warm dark eyes. There’s noise all around us but it’s just noise.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“It’s going to be fun,” he chuckles. “I’ve learned that we have fun wherever we go, Charlie Dickens.”
And I realize then that he was never making fun of me when he said my whole name. He just likes my name.
And maybe … just maybe … me?
“How many people are out there?” I whisper to Renee. I’ve been hiding in one of the back corridors, checking singers in on my spreadsheet, mostly because I’m worried that we won’t have an audience. Which is fine, I keep reminding myself. Even if there are only ten of our regulars, and double that in performers, it’s totally fine.
The past four days have been madness. All the quartets were on board for the Auburn performance, and Mrs. Hamilton even came in yesterday after school so we could rehearse as a chorus. It wasn’t our best rehearsal, but the good news is that we can only get better.
“I think we’re going to need to start early,” Renee whispers back.
“Do people look bored?” I cringe.
“No. But I don’t think there’s much more room to be had.”
“But that’s not possible,” I say, slipping past her. “The atrium is huge and … oh my god.”
Renee is right. The atrium is full. There must be hundreds of people here. From my vantage point behind the makeshift stage, I can see the chairs that we reserved for the buildings’ residents are full, as are the rows behind them for the singers’ families. And beyond that … there are so many people. People from town, kids from the elementary and high school, everyone.
“Wow,” I whisper.
“Look, your mom and dad are waving!” Renee calls.
Well, Mom is waving. Dad has a tripod set up with the video camera trained on the exact spot where I’ll be. He asked me a few times, and then asked again just to confirm. Sadie and Jed are out there, too, as are my grandparents. My heart fills with a warm glow at the sight of them.
“I think it’s time to start.” While it doesn’t surprise me that I can recognize Matthew’s voice even from behind me, what does surprise me is how familiar it is, how familiar he has become. We’ve been working nonstop on the concert, spending hours and hours every night arranging details. And while there’s been a closeness … we haven’t talked about it. Because even if it’s just as friends, that’s okay, too. Turns out popular star athletes can be really awesome friends. If they aren’t interested in being more.
“Let’s do it,” I whisper.
Mrs. Hamilton takes the stage and welcomes everyone, explaining the genesis of the concert. When she mentions our quartet in particular and how much we’d done to save the concert, the applause is almost deafening. I beam and squeeze Renee’s hand. Matthew is on the other side of the stage, going over the final lighting instructions, so I can’t take his hand, too. Though he looks up when he hears our name
s and his wink makes my heart soar.
The concert goes as Matthew had laid it out on Monday. Each group gets four songs, and the chorus opens and closes the show, plus one song in the middle. I’d debated whether I wanted us to go first or be stuck in the middle or go last, but I finally put it in Renee and Eric’s hands since they were coordinating the various groups. At first I asked them not to tell me, but then this morning I caved.
“Last,” Renee said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Remember, there’s still the finale,” she laughs.
The finale. That was the biggest surprise. Instead of closing with a classic song, or even a new popular one, Mrs. Hamilton gave us a new song to learn. At yesterday’s rehearsal, it was the one we practiced over and over until it was so ingrained in our brains that I could hear bits of the melody wherever I went.
Mrs. Hamilton had told us it was written by a friend of hers, that this would be its world premiere. At first I was hesitant about it: Why couldn’t we do a song we already knew?
But once we sang it the first time, I could see why Mrs. Hamilton chose it. It had the same multicultural feeling as the songs that made up the concert now, but also felt classic, like the elderly people at Auburn would appreciate it. And … I couldn’t place it. But it felt familiar.
“Is it from a movie?” I asked Mrs. Hamilton. She shook her head.
“Don’t worry about where the song came from. I think it’s a perfect way to end the concert.”
And there was nobody who disagreed. Especially since it had a great beat to it.
* * *
We begin as a chorus with “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” and it’s the perfect beginning since we’re feeling it. All of us. We may not be Pentatonix, but there’s something about the way we all worked so hard on making this happen that our bodies are loose and our voices … sound good.
Carols and Crushes Page 11