I have a 56 in Science.
Ugh.
Any tips for someone who tends to forget assignments and just lose track of things?
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*Mitch's POV*
Hey, mom! How is everything?
"Good, sweetie. Fine. How is your singing?"
Good...I hope. I sign and laugh.
"Um...I have some news for you."
What? Is it bad?
"No...not at all! Your sister is pregnant!"
I nearly start crying out of excitement. She's been trying for 4 years!
That's great, Mom! Tell her I love her!
"I will sweetie.Now, go rehearse. I saw your tweet."
I smiled. I tweeted about not really feeling rehearsal today.
I will, Mom. I love you.
"I love you, too. Bye bye!"
Bye.
We hang up just as we arrive at our destination. I grab a water and head inside.
We get our mics ready and just sit around and sing, as Dejan, our choreographer, isn't there yet.
We take a little break to warm up so I check my twitter. I check trending.
Normal stuff is there; #PTXGoesPlatinum, #onedirection and stuff like that, but one non-trending topic caught my eye.
#kickoutmitch.
I try to shake it off, knowing that those are just haters.
Should I...?
No. That'll just make me feel worse.
But I want to know why they hate me.
Why do they want me out?
I make sure no one is paying attention and scroll through the hashtag.
I wasn't surprised, but....relieved?
I was relieved to know that how I feel about myself makes sense.
I should've known.
People who don't talk, don't sing.
Stupid Mitch.
What was I thinking?
"Hey, guys. Dejan is here!" Says Scott.
I inaudibly groan.
I hate choreography. I'm always the last to memorize it, which sets everyone back.
"Okay, guys. Today is show day so we're gonna work really hard, okay?"
Everyone nods.
"Let's just go from the top!"
I take my place. I don't know some choreo because I missed a rehearsal for a neurologist appointment.
We get to the part I don't know and I step out.
Dejan stops. "Mitch, what happened? You've known this for a week."
I just shrug, not knowing what to do.
"Are you sick?"
I shake my head.
"Why aren't you talking?"
I realized that he doesn't know what happened.
Scott speaks up. "He had brain damage in the car accident. He can't talk, and missed rehearsal for a doctor's appointment."
"Oh...well, we can go over it. Is that okay?" Dejan asks.
I nod.
We end up having to take the whole time learning it from the top. Nobody seemed to care, but I know that it was just a waste of their time.
"Great rehearsal! See you next week!" Says Dejan and I go to my dressing room.
I pull up Twitter.
Still a popular hashtag?
Wow, I must be psychic; I really do suck.
I hear a knock at the door and quickly exit Twitter. I open the door to see Kirstie.
"Can I come in? I wanna ask you something."
I nod and she comes in. We sit on the couch.
What is it?
"Mitch...I know what's happening. I saw the trend. I saw you on Twitter. You don't believe any of that, do you?"
I look down. Yeah. Yeah I do.
She sighs. "Mitch...none of that crap is true, whatsoever. You wouldn't be in a famous a Capella group if any of it was true.
She's lying.
I feel anger overtake me.
You're just lying. Stop lying to me. I hate it. In fact, I hate everyone. I hate singing. Nobody cares about me. I'm the stupid, gay tenor with the girl voice. You don't need to sugarcoat it.
Kirstie looks taken aback. She has tears in her eyes.
"I don't know who you are...I don't know what you're doing with yourself...but you're not Mitch. I want the old Mitch back. I just tried to compliment you, but I'll leave you alone."
Kirstie I-
She turns around and slams the door.
I break down crying.
I knock stuff over, rip up magazines.
It's not enough.
I need It.
I need It now.
I look through my bag.
It's not there.
I try to find the closest thing to my weapon, and grab scissors.
I slash my skin three times.
Hear no evil.
See no evil.
Speak no evil.
I hear the dressing room door slam shut and quickly roll up my sleeve.
"Mitchell Coby Michael Grassi, get out here!"
It's Scott.
I unlock the door and walk out slowly.
Scott looks furious. "What did you say to Kirstie?"
Scott is super protective over Kirstie. Ever since they met, she's been smaller than him. And she's the only girl in the group, so she's like a sister to us.
I step back. Nothing, why?
"She's crying in her dressing room. She says that you called her a liar and yelled at her. Is this true?"
I look down. I shouldn't have said that.
"Answer me."
I suddenly feel like a small child being lectured. I nod.
"Why? What made you so angry?" Scott softens his look a little.
Nothing.
"What, so you're not gonna tell me? Fine. Bus leaves in five."
He turns around.
I finally think of my response.
Help.