It’s been a week since I signed up for my audition and I still don’t have a song to sing. It’s Tuesday today. The audition is on Friday. I wonder if I’m over-thinking it but that’s not possible. You can never over-think showbusiness. I have to sing one song from West Side Story and one other song that relates to my character. The West Side Story song is a no-brainer: One Hand, One Heart shows off my incredible range and tone and I have adjusted it so that I can sing it as a heart-wrenching solo. It’s going to be perfect. I am having some real trouble deciding on my second song, though.
I don’t know how to relate to Maria. I know I said we were like kindred spirits - and we definitely are - but I have never really been in love. How can I convey something that I have never really experienced? Of course, my love is for performing and Broadway (and I would certainly say I liked eclairs as more than a friend) but Tony and Maria share such passionate love that they are willing to take their own lives for each other. I guess I just don’t have that.
“Watch it!” A senior reproaches me after I realise that I have been striding purposefully down the corridors for the last ten minutes and I just walked into a guy holding a coffee that is now splattered on his shirt. But my dreams are more important than some guy's shirt.
I sigh to myself as I realise that I have Physics - by far my least favorite subject (I don’t think knowing about electrons got Barbra Streisand to Broadway!). I walk into the lab and search the room for an empty seat. Lyla and Ariel are sitting in one corner trying to do their make up in a pocket mirror held up by a clamp and stand and Ariel is complaining about how fat she looks in the concave mirror she has found. I try to sit as far away from them as possible. In the opposite corner, a guy with sandy brown hair and a tan is flicking through his textbook. ‘I can work with that,’ I think to myself and set my bag down next to him.
“Mind if I sit here?” I ask in a friendly voice. He looks up and I am immediately struck by how blue his eyes are. They look even more stunning when he smiles.
“Sure, go ahead,” he replies, moving some of his books along the table to make space. My heart is thumping in my chest and I feel slightly nauseous. What is wrong with me?
“Hey, I haven’t seen you in here before,” I casually try to make conversation, “Are you new this year?”
“Yeah, I just moved here from California. I haven’t really got to know anyone yet,” he admits with one of those gorgeous smiles. I giggle and then want to slap myself as I sound so stupid. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. “So are you any good at Science?”
“Oh god, no. I’m pretty terrible. Once in Biology, I catapulted a lung across the room and it hit one of the other girls in the face. She cried for nearly an hour,” I tell him, deadly serious. He laughs at my story and I find myself laughing with him.
“That is hilarious. I wish I could have seen that,” he says as he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. I feel like I’m glowing. He thinks I’m hilarious?
Unfortunately, this perfect moment is spoiled by Mr Wendell waddling into class and ordering silence. I could kill that guy sometimes. He drones on about kinetic energy in a monotone and then gives us a page of equations to do. I start working through the questions when I feel my arm nudged. I look up and see a little note sitting on my book. ‘I just realised I don’t even know your name. I’m Sam by the way :)’ it says. I write ‘Melody Rose Pointer’ at the bottom with a little star next to it. He reads it and smiles then scrawls another note. ‘That’s a beautiful name. It suits you.’ Did he just call me beautiful or was it just a figure of speech? Either way, my heart feels like it might leap out of my chest and my stomach is doing backflips. Luckily, the school bell rings before I have a panic attack.
Just as I’m packing my books away, he turns to me.
“Hey, I know we’ve only just met and everything,” he starts. I like where this is going. “But would you like to grab a coffee some time? Maybe after school one day?”
“That would be great!” I enthuse.
“Cool,” he flashes me a dazzling smile that makes me nearly faint, “Does Friday suit you?”
“Yeah, Friday would be awesome.” And at that, he leaves the lab. I think I’m going to melt.
YOU ARE READING
Born to Perform
Teen FictionMelody Rose Pointer has always known that she is a star - even her first word was 'Broadway'. But when she auditions for her school's first ever musical she must face criticism, rivalry and unrequited love. Will she even make it to opening night and...
