Onstage

The nerves within my body seemed to be having spasms. My legs shook so badly you could probably see it from the back of the auditorium. I took deep breaths over and over again, but anxiety didn't go away that easily. Clearing my throat quietly, I stared into the crowd. I was being blinded by the lights, which I don't think I'll ever be used to. I put my game face on, making sure I wasn't standing still like some kind of mannequin. Our teacher taught us to put on a show despite the obvious discontent with the other prepubescent students. They just don't realize how choir is not supposed to be easy and comfortable. Like our teacher said, if you don't feel like a fool, you are probably not trying hard enough.

I breathed deeply once again and sang out, hoping my voice stood out but not by much. The Christmassy song wasn't bad at all. And we sang it beautifully. I stared at the back of the auditorium, avoiding looking at the expressions of the people in the front row. Somehow, I still couldn't relax. I was tense but not bad. My voice didn't falter.

I continued singing, making my way to a microphone set on the edge of the stage. I was last in a line of 3. I stood awkwardly, trying to come off as calm. As I stepped closer to the microphone, the only thing on my mind was getting this over with. Finally, I stepped right in front of the microphone. The bright lights brought a flush to my face and an enhancement on the nearly invisible tears forming in my eyes. My hands rose to grab the microphone handle, unsure of what to do. They never quite connected. My hands awkwardly fell back to my side as I sang. I hope it didn't show how nervous I was.

When I finished my solo, I turned around briskly, avoiding any eye contact with my peers, afraid of their judgement. I returned to the front row, singing along with the choir. The song finished on a low, ominous note. Perfect.

The next few songs were my least favorite, but I gave the performance my all, making sure I held a friendly, joyous persona. At the end I made sure to scan the crowd. My parents were nowhere to be seen.

After we trailed down the walkway, letting the older grades go onstage, the students immediately started whispering excitedly to each other. I wasn't sitting next to any of my friends. I glanced over at one, hoping she was looking back but wasn't. The teacher hushed us just as the other choir started singing.

Out of the blue my mother appeared, giggly and stinking of alcohol. She must've been by the Bottle Shop. I quickly stepped out of my seat, ignoring the darts being shot at us by my teacher's eyes.

"You did great!" She smiled and laughed, looking at the kids in my choir as if she is also talking to them. I smiled, already feeling the blood rushing to my face.

"Thanks, Mom. I didn't see you," I said, leading her to the back of the room.

"Where's your dad?" She asked, making me inwardly groan. I didn't want them to fight, especially not here. I pointed in their direction, soon being abandoned.

As I slid back into my seat, some students were staring curiously.

"Was that your mom?" One asked.

"Yeah," I replied quietly, just wishing they'd pay attention to the choir performing.

"She's pretty," someone mentioned. I flashed them a big smile. It's almost as if I'm still onstage.