Side A: Mitzi
During lunch Shawna, Casey, and Elsie are all on their phones, with their earbuds half in. To be fair, I have my phone out too, but I'm mostly trying to catch a glimpse of their screens to see what songs they're looking up.
Miss Burgess told us we were going to have practice auditions during class today. We'll be singing a song a cappella, in front of everyone. Auditioning is an important skill for a musical career, she told us. "It's like a job interview for music."
Yesterday, we were instructed to come dressed "appropriately" and to have a song ready. "I'll be grading this exercise on your poise, professionalism, and preparedness," she informed us. My stomach dropped out at the word grading. Was voice class not pass/fail at this school?
I was planning to fail at the real audition. This practice audition has thrown me for a loop. Do I have to fail this audition, too, so Miss Burgess expects me to be terrible at the real audition? Will the real audition be graded? If I sing off-key or forget the lyrics or trip over something, will I get an F?
And until this moment, I hadn't really considered my song choice. I figured I could sing "Alone" by Heart because that's my favorite for belting out in my workshop, but now I'm imagining what Shawna will think of that. They might think that I'm really lonely and start pushing super hard for me to get a boyfriend for the Valentine's Dance. They might decide I'm a huge loser because I chose this old song they've never heard.
I go through the songs on my phone: "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"? It's an oldie, but popular enough that they've probably heard it. Doing it a cappella, though... yikes. Journey's "Don't Stop Believin"? Again, everyone knows it, so it's a safe choice. I also like "Sunday Bloody Sunday" but there are a lot of lyrics that I will probably forget once I'm standing in front of people.
The bits of songs that Shawna's singing now sounds pretty easy. The kind of song you nod your head to on the radio but doesn't have much range. I can't think of any songs like that, not that I know all the words to. Or maybe I do, but I'm in panic mode now and I can't think of any songs except the ones on my phone.
When the bell rings, I jump. "Someone's nervous!" Shawna sings as they calmly get their stuff together.
I sling on my backpack and try to laugh it off. "Just a little. Okay, a lot!" I didn't mean to say that last part. I suppose, if they're my friends, I need to trust them with my feelings a little bit, right? My stomach gurgles. I tell myself it's hunger and not a potential vom situation. All I ate for lunch were carrots and ranch dressing.
All through my next class I'm dying. It's math, so it doesn't really matter if I pay attention or not - I'm not going to understand it. Therefore, I spend the whole class period freaking out. I try to write down all the lyrics from "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" from memory. I woke up in the middle of the night, I write, then scribble it out. My phone rings in the middle of the night. No, that's the second verse.
The key thing is, I can't sound better than Shawna, or she'll hate me. So I need Shawna to go first. Then I can see what I'm working with. Maybe I could do a song with some range, and mess up a few of the high notes so Miss Burgess doesn't think I can hit them. I have to get a passing grade, though, and that means I have to do well in the poise and professionalism and preparedness part. I'm pretty sure poise means standing up straight and not stuttering or throwing up, which means I'll fail that part. Preparedness probably means remembering all the words to the song, which I've already established as impossible unless I do one of my belting songs. Professionalism? I'm not sure what that means. Maybe that's the part about singing in tune. Or maybe it's the part about not wearing jeans with holes in them. So I might be good on that one. I have to pass two of the three to pass the whole thing.
By the time I get to voice class I'm sweaty and feel a lot more like I'm going to throw up. I sit down on the risers and wipe my hands on my pants. "Are you okay?" Elsie asks.
"Yeah, you look a little green," says Casey.
I can't answer them. I'm too busy swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. Luckily, Miss Burgess walks out from around her desk, holding a big bowl.
"I have everyone's names in here," she announces, shaking the bowl just enough so the little pieces of paper shuffle. "Random order. So, be ready! And, I should have to say this, please be respectful to your classmates who are auditioning. That means no cell phones and no talking during each audition. Got it?"
Everyone grumbles their assent. She reaches in and dramatically swirls her hand around.
"Casey Weber," she says.
Casey gives us all a nervous smile. "You got this," Shawna says, then makes a weird motion with her hands by her face while she smiles. "Face."
Must be a dance thing, I think, as Casey's face suddenly blinks into a huge, fake smile, and she strides to the front of the room.
Miss Burgess asks her a few basic questions like, "What's your name?" and "How old are you?" and "What will you be singing for us today, Casey?" Casey answers them all with that smile still on her face.
I don't know the song Casey has chosen, so I can't tell if she's any good or not. It all sounds a little bit rushed and out of tune to me. I'm sure she'll get some extra credit for being the first one up. She only messes up the lyrics once, and I only know because of how she corrects herself.
After Casey is done, Miss Burgess says, "Thank you, Casey, that was very good. I want to point out that you can get away with singing incorrect lyrics if you don't telegraph your mistake like Casey did."
Great, so now I'll get points off if I do what Casey did. I almost wish I had gone first.
"Next up... Mitzi Howard."
Side B: Oz
It's Thursday and I'm dreading band practice. Not the one in school. The one after school. My band. The Flaming Pickles.
Dave literally suggested this as a band name. Lock thought it was great, and Carrie and Margot laughed and said it was perfect. "Way better than The Gleaming or whatever," Carrie said.
"I liked The Gleaming," Margot said, looking right at me.
It was The Gloaming. I didn't bother telling them that.
We all go to Lock's after school, piling into his car. I have my guitar, which I brought to school, and I expect everyone else to have made arrangements for their instruments. Carrie has her flute case. Like, does she really think she's going to play her flute in a rock band? Jethro Tull aside, flutes are not for heavy metal.
Of course, the Flaming Pickles is not a heavy metal band.
Dave has his guitar. But Margot does not have her keyboard. "Where's your keyboard?" I ask her.
"I brought it over earlier this week," Margot says. She made arrangements with Lock? I narrow my eyes at him. "And look what else! My dad has some extra mics from church and he let me take one."
The garage does look more legit with a microphone set up on a stand and everything, and the keyboard there next to the drum set. I'm thinking I'll convince Carrie to play the tambourine or something.
Margot walks in and inches the mic closer to the keyboard. It was already close. It's like she wants me to see her do it. She turns to look at me and smiles. "I have a song prepared," she says.
"For what?" I ask.
"My audition! It's an Adele song. I can play keyboard and sing."
Lock sits down on the couch and cracks open a can. Dave sits on the armrest, tuning his guitar, and Carrie sits between them. No room for me, so I stand near Lock. "Is that a beer?" I ask him.
"Uh, no." He takes a swig. "Ginger soda. Want one?"
"You mean ginger ale?"
"No. Ginger soda. It's organic."
"I'm all set," I tell him.
I've heard of Adele, she's a Grammy-award-winning artist, so obviously. I can't say I know any of her songs, though, so I don't know how close what Margot plays on the keyboard matches.
What I do know: what comes out of Margot's mouth is not Adele-worthy.
It isn't even Taylor Swift-worthy. I wince when she goes for the higher notes, and glance at the others. Carrie is nodding enthusiastically. Dave is focused on his guitar. Lock has his eyes narrowed, gazing into middle distance.
If I was Simon Cowell, I'd be telling her to please stop singing, my ears are bleeding.
It isn't quite that bad, I suppose. But I was hoping for something amazing. Something that would save the Flaming Pickles from, well, going down in flames. Unless we play so loud we drown her out, we're never going to make it with her as a lead singer.
Margot finishes, and slowly opens her eyes and smiles at us.
I try to smile back. What am I supposed to say to her? I can tell no one else is going to step up to be a leader here.
"Okay," I say, knowing that she'll think I mean she sounded okay, instead of using it as more of a placeholder. "I'm still not sure about a female lead, but depending on our song choices, we might be able to do something that incorporates your voice." Like backup vocals, I'm thinking. She stands there and oohs into the mic and... that's it. And I'm screaming over her.
"Oh! Like Evanescence!" Margot says. "I can see that."
I steel myself for her to start singing "My Immortal." Amy Lee, Margot is not. "Yeah, maybe. I was thinking more like Metallica. You know the song 'Enter Sandman'?" Looking around, I see blank looks, but I barrel onward. "So most of the vocals are James Hetfield, but then there's this part with a creepy-sounding kid reciting Now I lay me down to sleep. It's awesome."
Margot's smile has dimmed. "Okay, maybe."
"So if you don't want Margot to sing lead, then who are you thinking?" Dave asks. "Don't look at me, I'm too embarrassed to even sing in the shower."
I glance at Lock and Carrie. Neither one looks at me. "Well, I was thinking I'd sing. Or we could hold auditions." That last bit comes out sharper than I intended, although it reflects how I feel: that we should have had auditions in the first place. "I put up a flyer in the voice classroom, but maybe Miss Burgess could tell the voice students to audition."
"Ugh, voice class is for losers," Margot says, basically proving my point. "People only take that class for an easy A."
"So there aren't any good singers in the voice class."
"If I didn't know better," Lock says slowly, "I'd say you were implying that Margot is not good enough."
"I didn't say that!"
"I didn't say you said that. I said you implied it."
I snort and cross my arms. These people don't seem to understand my vision for this band. "You haven't heard me sing yet."
Margot stands and picks up the mic, moving the stand to the middle of the space. "Okay, then, let's hear you sing."
My body goes cold. I don't really want to sing in front of these people. Instinctively I know none of them will understand my style.
But this is a direct challenge. And if I want to have any hope that this band can be shaped into something amazing, I need to step up, literally.
I strap on my guitar and strum a bit to make sure the amp is wired correctly. I face the microphone and close my eyes, and prepare to unleash the power of heavy metal.
___
If you had to sing a song for an audition, what would you pick?